CHESTNUTS ROASTING ON AN OPEN FIRE, JACK FROST (THE LIL BASTARD) NIPPIN' AT MY NOSE

Lo and behold, it's that time of the year again. Christmas. Ready or not, it's a-coming!

I don't do Christmas very well. The reasons are the usual (don't feel the joy, sadness, depressing, blah, blah, blah) and I know a lot of people go through the same thing. I get through it one way or another, then it's over. I'm thinking about buying myself a really kick ass gift this year. I mean a really, really kick ass EXPENSIVE gift. I never spend money like that on myself. And you know what? I think I fucking deserve it for once. So I am.
Merry Christmas to me! Falalala lalalalaaaaa.

I was thinking about Christmas stockings the other day (I really have no control over where my mind will swerve to next). Actually, I was thinking about what my mom always put in our stockings at Christmas compared to what kids get now.

Here's what was in our stockings: nuts in the shell so you had to crack them open and dig out the meat; an apple; an orange with cloves stuck in it (the best smell EVER); candy and maybe a little toy of some kind. That was it. I thought they were the bomb. Seriously, I loved digging through my stocking every Christmas! I always knew what would be in there but I loved opening it and finding out for sure. Those are some good memories, right there.

Here's what kids get in their stockings now: money, gift cards, jewelry, cds, video games, ipods, cell phones, and cameras. I'm pretty sure all those things count as gifts so why aren't they wrapped and under the tree? Maybe it's just me, but I think it's pretty ridiculous to put stuff like that in the stocking. Isn't that kind of like overkill? If you put stuff like that in the stocking, you damn sure better ante up with the big presents. Way up.

My dad, man. My dad was a FOOL for Christmas. As in buying an artificial tree that made it's own artificial snow and waking us up at 4 a.m. because he couldn't wait another minute for us to get up and see what was under the tree, kind of fool. Every year. (Have I ever mentioned I have a gimpy stomach? Like, I can't eat anything early in the morning or I will get sick. Yeah. It started then. Up at 4? Throwing up by 6. Every year.) Piles of stuff under the tree. Baby dolls, baby furniture, sleeping bags, racetracks, telescopes, bikes, tape recorders, record players, bb guns, easy bake oven (still one of the best gifts EVER), music boxes....not all in one year of course, but still. I come from a large clan - lots of brothers and sisters. But by the time I came along - and certainly by the time I was 6, 7, or 8 - there was only me and three brothers left at home. So, there was more money I guess and less kids, which equaled a pretty nice Christmas for us. My brothers would tell you my pile of gifts was much bigger than theirs. And it probably was; there was one of me and three of them. But, you know, you could buy three dolls, a dollhouse and the easy bake oven for what that telescope cost. Or the really big racetrack they got one year. (Back then kids were concerned with quantity. Hey, I only got three presents and she got five! What did we know about cost? Nowadays, kids can compute to the dime how much more (or less) their gifts cost. Sad, very sad).

I remember the joy of those Christmases and the excitement. I also remember coming home one Christmas Eve night from somewhere - I was about 6 or 7 - seeing Santa across the street at the neighbor's house. I was absolutely hysterical, thinking I had a) either missed him, no presents! or b) screwed up the whole order of things by SEEING him, no presents! My mom and dad tried to tell me it was okay, it was only the guy that lived there. But that made absolutely no sense to me because, wtf?? Why would their dad dress up like Santa? Or.....WAS THEIR DAD SANTA??? It was a rough time that night, what with all the running around, getting the cookies and milk out (he's right across the street! hurry!!) and trying to get into bed in time. I was one stressed out little girl. Everyone else though, over the age of 7, thought it was hilarious.

So, when I think about the Christmases of my childhood, I remember the joy, the excitement and yes, the stress. And it's good. Good memories.

But you know what really says Christmas to me? A stocking filled with walnuts and pecans and apples and oranges and candy. Yep, that's Christmas!

But I'm still getting myself a really big present this year.