Am I Turning into My Mother?

When I was a child, I really really really LOVED Christmas. Starting at age 8, I would hit my grandfather up for Christmas money (and he gave it to me until I was 18, with an increase each year. Miss you, Pop-pops) and I loved shopping. My mother, on the other hand, was not so into the Christmas spirit. Starting on Dec. 1, I would pester her daily about Christmas:

Me: When are we getting a tree?
Mom: Not for a while. It’s too early. It’ll dry out. You’ll poke your eye out.
Me: When can I wrap the presents? (My favorite Xmas activity. Still)
Mom: When I buy wrapping paper.
Me: When will that be?
Mom: I don’t know, next week maybe.

Finally, one night she would arrive home from work with the wrapping paper and I could go to town. I spent much of my childhood wondering why she was down on my Christmas enthusiasm.

I think I finally get it. My mother was working full time, raising me, and trying to get ready for the holidays. So I can now understand why, after a long day at work, she wasn’t really dying to wrap all the presents three weeks ahead of time.

We bought our tree last Sunday, but weren’t able to decorate it until last night, because we were busy every night this week. The presents are all in a big pile, waiting to be wrapped. The cards are completely unwritten. At least I’m finished with the shopping.

This weekend, I have five parties to attend. Yes, I can just hear you: “Oh, Lady Tiara, your life is so hard. It must be just awful to get invited to parties to too many parties.” And your sarcasm would be justified. It’s just that I feel a little overwhelmed at the moment, and I’m not sure I have the energy for five parties, even though I am looking forward to each and every one of them, and I’m sure they will all be fantastic.

And you know, I get totally overwhelmed by these little things, and my mom had to do all this AND deal with me. She’s made of stronger stuff than I am apparently.