The Jolliest Bunch of Assholes This Side of the Nuthouse

It's not my intention, but it seems to happen every year at Christmas.

You see, I love Christmas... most people do, but I have a tendency to take it to new, dizzying heights of manic excitement. It's disturbing to watch, or so I'm told.

I don't know how to explain it really.  I always assumed I would grow out of it, that sometime in between childhood and adulthood I would reach a point when I would be able to sleep Christmas Eve, or maybe even have to be woken up by someone on Christmas morning.  But nope, I'm 29 years old and I'm still lying awake in my bed watching the digital numbers on my alarm clock slowly ticking by trying to decide if 1:30 is a reasonable time to get up to look at my Christmas stocking.

I think I've finally learned to accept  that I will ALWAYS be the first one up for Christmas.  I will beat my kids up.  I will be 90 years old and creeping into the living room to look at all of the wonderful things "Santa" has brought me.

I get excited about Christmas in February.  No lie.

I have one good month of feeling indifferent about Christmas, and then I'm ready to go all over again.  I can't wait.  I dream about it. I crave it.

By the time November rolls around and every one else is starting to think about or maybe get a little excited about Christmas, I'm in super manic out of control Martha Stewart mode.  I'm making lists. I'm decorating.  I'm setting incredibly unreasonable expectations about how wonderful THIS Christmas will be.  Better than all the rest!  I'm baking. I'm wrapping gifts. I'm decorating some more.  Everything will be perfect! Everything will be beautiful and special!  And I'm planning menus. I'm crafting. I'm decorating anything that will stand still.

And then it all falls down around my ears.  It usually looks something like this... except it's all happening INSIDE my brain.

And then I get sick.

My body finally gives in, worn out from all of the going going going and decorating decorating decorating, and, more times than I can count, I wake up Christmas morning with a sore throat and aching body.  The thing I seem to forget is that Martha has a team of minions to do her Christmas bidding while I have just me.  And the other thing I always forget is that Christmas is going to come whether I have everything decorated to perfection or not, whether I have bought everyone on my list the absolute perfect, most special gift ever or not. It's going to come anyways and it will be perfect all on it's own because it's Christmas.  There will be beauty and light and wonder and family and joy without me having to try.

I love it.  I can't wait.  I'm taking extra Vitamin C just in case.