I love this time of year. When we can afford it, I love buying gifts for everyone I know (even when they are really hard to buy for). I love the lights on the houses, I love the snow and, for a short time, even the cold. I love the parties and school events and activities, and talking to family that I am disturbingly lax about talking to the rest of the year, and visiting with family that’s either usually far away or even that I see weekly. I admit that I loooove getting presents, and I get to do it TWICE, with my birthday being two days before Christmas. I just love the holiday season.
But I don’t love it early.
I didn’t do any shopping until a few days ago. I have one person and one family covered, and some things ordered, but I have about 50 million other things to order, buy, wrap, and ship. And I like it that way, even if it means I have to pay extra for faster shipping. I haven’t done Christmas cards yet, or decorated my house (actually, that won’t happen anyway—not beyond the living room).
The earlier everyone else starts focusing on Christmas, the later I want to. And it’s not just the stores stocking stuff in mid-November or the commercials or the radio stations filled with holiday songs. It’s phone conversations where they list the few things they have left to do. My Facebook news feed is full of “I finished shopping for Christmas today” the week before Thanksgiving. A week later, everything is wrapped. I understand it and applaud it—I just don’t want any part of it!
So I’ve had no holiday spirit so far this year. But today we got our tree. We went to the fire station, selected the first one we saw (looked at others, but this one was perfect), and let them tag it for delivery. I had to run to the store, and while I was out, it came and J and the girls put it up. So when I walked in the door, the whole house smelled like fir tree.
And NOW it’s Christmastime.