I know it's Christmastime. You don't have to tell me again. I know my blog still reflects a certain Thanksgiving-y type reflective background, and a Thanksgiving-y type reflective quote at the top. *sigh*
I can't keep up with all these holidays.
The Hubby and I planned poorly when we had three kids (count 'em, THREE!) all around the holidays. Halloween to Valentine's day is one huge round of "spend-the-money-as-wild-and-fast-as-you-can!"
Calvin's birthday is only days before Christmas. Dev's birthday is only days after Christmas. Mine is end of January, and Bogey is lucky enough to be in February (lucky because we've some distance from the holidays before his birthday comes, but also unlucky because we're out of money by the time his birthday comes.)
Every year at this time I think, "why don't I budget for Christmas and birthday all year?! Then I wouldn't be trying to scrape money from who knows where within the two months that 4 out of five of us have birthdays, and all of us have Christmas? Why? why? why? WHY?!"
I know why. It's because by the time February is over, and I am patting myself on the back for making it through, I tell myself I deserve a little break...a break that inadvertently stretches 8 months, and I realize that Christmas and birthday's are just around the corner again.
Or maybe I'm just not that organized.
Or maybe I just block the trauma every year.
And then discover the horror anew every November.
I feel a little like the Grinch this year: " For 23 years I've put up with it now. I must find some way to keep Christmas from coming! But how?"
But I'm fighting it. The Grinch is no fun. I am trying to find that ol' Christmas spirit and don it. You know, don we now our gay apparel. Translation: Let's put on our happy clothes. I don't know what happy clothes are. And I don't know if I have any.
I am starting my Christmas shopping tomorrow (yes, just starting. Go ahead, gasp, but I've been busy making gifts all month. That's done, now I can go buy stuff, too.) and I'm hoping that will vent some of that backed up stress and cause me to spew forth random Christmas lines (like Fra-gee-lay! Must be Italian!). I'm hoping. I'm really, really hoping.
Because I don't want to be the Grinch.
I want to be Cindy Lou Who.
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