Do I Look a Little Green to You?

I’m really coming to hate this time of year.

The thing is, I want to like it. I’m not one of those “Ugh commercialism” or “Ba-humbug it’s just an excuse for people to expect you to buy them things!” kind of people at all. I love the decorations and buying presents and all the events and sights that go with the whole thing (except the Mall, no freaking way with the Mall).

            nope nope nope nope nope










But there’s a problem. Obviously many of us (though sadly not all of us – I’m sorry if you are one of those people) have fond and magical memories of Christmas from our childhood. Frankly, all holidays are pretty much like that when you’re little and don’t have a care in the world.

But honestly, even past childhood… Even early on in my adult life when my husband and I were BUTT-ASS POOR, and the only reason we even had a Christmas tree was because we were given my dead elderly Aunt’s (and it was this horrible 20-30 year old fake tree with the yellowing fake snow that smelled like old cigarettes and shed “needles” like a lonely old impotent dude sheds dollars bills at a strip club); and all our decorations were hand-me-downs or paper snowflakes I made from scraps of paper I brought home from work; and presents were handmade from whatever we could cobble together from stuff we had or could buy at the dollar store – – it still felt like a special time of year. It was still magical.







Once we had a little more money, I would spend the entire months of October through December decorating the house for every holiday, and baking and cooking, and shopping for the perfect presents for everyone, often making homemade gifts for colleagues and friends alike, not because I had to but because they were special. I loved it. It was still magical.









I think it really all changed during the years we were waiting for our referral and then waiting for Eli to come home. Before we started trying to have children, what we had was all we wanted, so everything felt complete and perfect and magical. But once we started trying to have a family, every holiday just felt so painful… there was suddenly this integral, vital part missing. And so the magic died.








I expected it to come back when Eli came home (I mean – isn’t that how it’s supposed to work, dammit? You have children and it becomes magical and shit again. I demand a recount!!!!) But that hasn’t happened. I just can’t get into it. I WANT to. I feel sad for most of October and November and December because I’m thinking about how un-holiday-ee I feel, and I feel super depressed after the holidays are over because I feel like I’ve missed my chance for yet another year to feel the magic. I’ve tried doing holiday-like stuff to get in the spirit, but even if I ‘enjoy’ it, it still doesn’t feel like things used to.


Add to THIS all the added family tensions for the last several years, which totally bums my husband out every year, which in turn completely bums me out and makes me feel guilty and terrible and OVER THIS WHOLE HOLIDAY THING, and, well………











Published by

Tiffani Panek

Wife of more than 20 years, mom, wrangler of a houseful of furbabies, and certified crazy person... Writing has always been a passion. I'm also an avid reader of everything from sci-fi/fantasy to historical accounts of creepy medical history. My first book A Home For Baby Acorn can be found on Amazon and Blurb, and my first adult venture - Wait, What Were We Talking About - will be available (hopefully) in 2018.

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