Ho Ho Fucking Ho, Once Again

Many of you may remember this particular example of religious iconography that I have here in my home. Bizarrely, it came with the house and was on the refrigerator when we first looked at the place. And that was pretty much when I knew I was fated to live here.

For anyone with the blatant anti-religious stance I have, I own a surprising number of images of the virgin, madonna, Mary, Mother of God, whatever, in my house. This began a long time ago when my friend Sue was alive. She loved the Mary's. She had them all over her house. And I loved Sue and after she died I sort of just absorbed her love of the holy mother, I guess. And of course, loving Mexico as I do, I can't help but feel a deep affection for La Reina de Mexico as she is beloved there and her image can be found everywhere. 

This one is lovingly placed in front of the mercado in Cozumel where you can buy everything from shoes to freshly butchered meat, to freshly caught fish, to mangoes, to smoothies, to tacos, to dresses for Quinceanearas, to powders and candles with which to cast spells. Our Lady watches over all. 

I do not attribute magical or godly powers to these images but they do comfort me somehow. They are mothers. It probably goes no deeper than that. 

So there was that statue on the refrigerator (and honey- it's not a small statue) and it now resides in a fireplace in the guest room. I have an affection for it and I just love the expression on the obviously two-year old baby Jesus' face.

"Really?" he seems to be saying. "I'm not up for this shit."

And that's about where I'm at today with the whole Christmas thing. Ever since I had more than one child, I've obsessed about making the Christmas presents fair and equitable to each of them. Probably to an unhealthy degree. And it is an obsession. I make myself crazy. And I say that in the present tense because I still do it. And this year I have screwed the pooch in so many ways. 

I just could not manage to get out there and shop for my babies and online-shopping overwhelms me too. I remember back when I was younger, much younger, and I would do all of the Christmas shopping not only for my kids and husband but for my family of birth and my husband's family including his parents, sisters, nephews and nieces. And god only knows how many other friends and people that I felt as if we should definitely give a Christmas present to like employees or co-workers or neighbors. And I made a loaf of homemade Challah for each of the kids' teachers and included a jar of nice preserves in with the bread and I often made the kids new flannel nightgowns and pajamas and, and, and...

Lord, Lord, how did I do it? 
And now I'm just completely worn out and I have to tell you that every woman of my age I know did all of that for Christmas and wrapped the presents and made the meals and created the magic and they still manage to be able to buy a few presents for their family without losing their minds. 

And I have completely fucked up this year. Completely. And I am anxious about it and I feel terrible and here it is Christmas Eve and there's nothing I can do about it now. 
Oh hell. 

So. I'm going to tell my kids that it is what it is, and that my love for all of them and their partners is deep and true and I'm sorry I'm such a horrible gift-giver but hey! Here's a slice of ham! 

And a flat gift, of course. 

Phew. 

I made the traditional Moon chicken salad today. 

Well, it's not quite traditional. I put onions in mine which Glen says his mother did not and also, you're supposed to have green AND red grapes but the green grapes did not look good so I didn't buy any. Also, I think I put too much salt in it. 

I cooked sausage to make Glen a loaf of sausage and cheese bread which he loves and I need to make up the dough for that before I go to bed tonight which I will put into the refrigerator. The "real" recipe calls for Pillsbury pizza dough in the can to use as the bread part but of course I refuse to do that and the way things are going, I'm going to wish I had. 

But I tell you what- at least these days I do not spend Christmas day crying in my bed which is what I used to do. I am able to let it all roll off my back in ways I never could before although you would not know that by reading this. 

Here's a picture of Magnolia on Christmas Eve six years ago. 

Now that is what it's all about. Well, that and the sweet baby Jesus in a too-small manger trying to kick his earth-dad in the balls. 

Before I leave, I will give you the Christmas present that Hank gave to me today. 

A beautiful Christmas song written and sung by Willie Nelson and Stephen Colbert. Don't just listen to the first few lines and decide this is just one more damn stupid Christmas song. 
Spoiler Alert: The name of the song is "Little Dealer Boy."

And now all of you are going to think I'm a big old pothead. 
I wish!

I'm not. I haven't really enjoyed smoking weed since I became a mother which was an awfully long time ago. I do try it again every now and then just to see if I enjoy it more but no, I never do. 
Dammit. 

Don't forget- Santa won't come if you're still awake! Which sounds a little weird, doesn't it? 

And Hank just sent another image via text. 

Perfection. 

Love...Ms. Moon