of us in today's world does not remember the magnificently-Erma Bombeck humor? She was a woman who saw something funny in every aspect of life, even the most difficult, and sometimes the saddest, moments.
Erma said: "There's nothing sadder in this world than to awake Christmas morning and not be a child." What a touching and telling comment. As adults, we can chase and run around and worry. Have we bought gifts for all we have to buy for. . . enough? Did we get the house decorated, and it looks as good as your neighbor's house? What we do for Christmas dinner? Who will call? Who can not invite too many people without the insults?
Can we really afford all this ?!
There is very little to no longer worry about during the holidays. During the year, which should define a universal love, joy, and hope, it has become, instead, the season in which dollar signs are the most common vision we see dancing in our heads day in and day-out. . . sugarplums than (as they do!). So many things to do, and really only a few months in which to do it all. Usually, Christmas Eve is coming and we all still running around, this time glazed and battle-weary look in our eyes, stalking center aisles for anything-anything!-still on the shelves. Oh, no! We forgot Uncle Arthur. . . there! Grab it, yes. . . whatever-it-is, right there. It is green and he loves the green.
And why is it that so many of us leave for the packaging of all these whatevers' til the last minute, often only a few ticks after 12:01 on Christmas morning? There are scores of us still sitting on the floor of the family room in the wee morning hours, paper strewn everywhere, three tape dispensers in various places around us, package in two places at one side of us, and we have already wrapped up (in the last hour) and on the other side of us, the mountain of gifts still waiting for holiday dressing. Christmas music wafts through the air, as if we are lucky to be slapping a piece of tape between two unmatched end too small a piece of wrapping paper, desperately trying to fit it. Our Santa is a nightie hiked up to his knees and if Santa walk to us at this point, it would take away our membership in the Santa Pretend-club.
A step back for a moment, folks. Give yourself a break and allow yourself a few very deep breaths. How many of our relatives are really going to nail us if the package looks a little like a drunken dwarf is governed? Even more, how many kids would care? Really. When my kids were little, most of their packages wrapped in the Sunday comics. . . and at Christmas, it was home Sunday comics. Seriously. And guess what? They loved it-loved it!
and there was little Erma in this practice. It made me feel a little like a kid foruse of comics . Playful. Color. a wee bit on the dull side. I could not help but smile every time I pulled out my ink-stained fingers away and literally looked at my funny artworks.
It all boils down to some really quite simple ideology. Take the love and emotions for the rest seriously. Do not take seriously the hype. Make every Christmas practice playful draping a house in lights, decorating trees, addressing, pulling sultry, delicious scent of cookies from the oven. Even when you decide whether or not to go into battle with other mothers in the toy store for the latest technology work for your son dear dear. . . You must be at stake. You need to have fun.
There is no other way to do Christmas. If you're not having fun, people, you're not doing it right. And if you're not sure, remember Erma. If you wake up Christmas morning and you're all but happy and ready to roll down the stairs with all the other children, but are not ready to face the day with a smile on his face and Giggly malice in his heart, nothing but a joy to predict all playtime all day in front of you, playtime regardless of what you'll be doing. . . Yes, my dear adult children, will be a very sad day indeed.
and Christmas should never be sad. We can be a kid again, if only for that day.
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