2002 Holiday issue BC Parent
A Christmas Story
I noticed the mega stores sneaking Christmas decorations between aisles of school supplies back in August. I was still contemplating how I’d lose fifteen pounds to look good in a bathing suit. Santa Claus peeked between rows of binders and scientific calculators, his ample paunch teasing the buttons of his red fur coat, and I shuddered.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the festive season as well as the next woman – but even Canada Post doesn’t need four months to gear up. Christmas, it seems, has become one monster marketing campaign. As consumers we hardly notice the coming and going of Thanksgiving. Pumpkins are barely puckered before some eager beaver puts up their Christmas lights. I have in the past let myself get caught up in the flurry – baking butter tarts and shortbread months ahead of time. By the time December rolled around I’d discovered I could thaw a cookie between my front teeth while pushing the vacuum and nothing but crumbs remained in the well hidden Tupperware at the back of the freezer. Despite my good intentions I was still frosting the gingerbread house with seven minute icing made in three.
When the kids were little I tried buying ahead of time loading up my buggy with goodies from the sale table in the toy department – glow worms, my little ponies, tinker toys. The bargain loot made it into the dark corner of my closet to be promptly forgotten among old shoes and luggage and totally absent from the excitement on Christmas morning. I’ve come to realize that I’m not the ‘organized’ type — Christmas Eve wouldn’t be complete in my house if I wasn’t scouring the place looking for the roll of Scotch tape I know I bought but for the life of me can’t remember where I put. I tell myself I work best under pressure as I try doing the work of seven elves in half the time.
All through the month of December I do the shopping day countdown, estimating how many days are left before I really have to panic. As the smug place beautifully wrapped presents beneath their perfectly decorated trees I face the crowds in the mall and wallow in the season. I ‘am’ the spirit of Christmas — the lunatic racing the clock.
As far as I am concerned Christmas belongs in December, I can get my heart around it then. I want the long winter nights the crisp in the air and the puff of breath that says the season is upon us. I want the hustle, the carols and the aroma of warm gingerbread cookies. I even want the crunch, the panic, it’s the buzz that keeps me awake listening for footsteps on Christmas Eve. For me, decking the halls in August just doesn’t cut it.