When I was younger, I remember being so excited on Christmas Eve that I always seem to annoy the shit out of my parents for not falling asleep quicker. As I lied in my twin bed with a flower printed comforter, I tried to control the excitement that was waiting to explode out of me. Of course, I was excited to tear open the wrapping paper that my mother took time to perfectly tape down, what kid isn’t? It wasn’t the presents I was most excited about; it was the running down the stairs with my older brother to see if Santa drank all his milk and left with a belly full of cookies that made me look forward to Christmas morning. I loved every toy and Lion King themed pajama set my parents ever gave me, but it was never what made me love holidays, especially like Christmas.
I feel as if today, Christmas is only about who spent the most money on who and who got the best what. In my perspective, who the hell cares?! What happened to sitting around the table, trying to say grace without scarfing down your plate first, falling into a deep food coma, cracking family jokes, and doing the traditional family Christmas (in my family this include watching “National Lampoon’s: Christmas Vacation”). Sadly, we no longer do that. Like most families in this disgusting century of materialism, my family gets in arguments over who is buying what for who and how much this aunt spent on this kid… once again, who the hell cares?! There’s nothing I dislike more than my family arguing with one another. We’ve been together this long, why would they want to let something that is supposed to bring us together make us fall apart?
I think this is something that is beyond me. I wish I could control it and make things like they were before. It makes me mad that I don’t have the power to change it, but for now I will preach it until it gets through their warped minds.
I’m glad that I have my parents and my brother to always make light of the holiday situations. I mean I guess that is what happens when we grow up, right?