It's The Hap, Happiest Time Of The Year! Yeah. If You're Five Years Old

Jessie and I met in town today and went to a Goodwill. She was looking for some clothes for August who I guess is outgrowing everything although not in width. That child only grows up, not out. Also, the boys have some sort of dress-up day for the next two weeks at school. One of the days is Christmas pajama day and Goodwill had about two long racks of just Christmas pajamas so she found some that should do for August. 
I found that pillow which I adore. It is beaded and sequined and stitched and embroidered and I felt guilty paying only $4.99 for it. 

It has a backing of pink velvet. It is exquisite. And funky. And very cheerful. 

I also found a Christmas hoody that I hope will do for Ms. Magnolia June. 

Fun AND sophisticated, right? And it is very, very soft. 

The only other thing I got was a pale pink cotton sweater that will go nicely under overalls. 

I'm struggling right now. I know many of us are and I'm sure much of it is related to Christmas. For me, it's the overwhelming expectations that our culture tells us are appropriate for the season when I absolutely detest Christmas and yet, do not want to disappoint my grandchildren or even, really, my children although they know me well and don't expect too much from me in the way of cute gifts. 
Money. Money is easy. The flat gift, as our family calls it. 
I am a horrible gift giver. I have some sort of block when it comes to buying gifts. Is it because I want things to perfectly represent my love for people through the gifts I give them? If so, that ain't possible. I have known some very, very good gift givers who seem to find the perfect object that charms and delights the receiver. I envy those people. I am in awe of them. And mostly it's not something of great monetary value and yet, somehow perfect. Gifts that say, "I know who you are. I love who you are," unlike my gifts which say, "It was three days before Christmas and I was in Costco and so you all get blenders this year!"

And I hate shopping. Even being in a very uncrowded Goodwill today was more than enough. Yes, I can shop online. And I will. 
But every day that passes in December leaves me feeling more and more distraught and frantic and it will be this way until the holy-baby-jesus-in-a-manger-day is over. Since I'm as close to being an atheist as you get until a real one walks in the door, the magic of Christmas has long since disappeared for me. I can remember it, how it felt when I was a child. The anticipation of Santa Claus and special treats and being a part of the Christmas pageant at church and even the way my first grown-up Christmas tree made me feel when I was freshly married and pregnant with Hank. Christmas, however, did not always end up being a happy day when I was little, despite my anticipations and belief in magic. There are too many reasons to list but shall we say that at some point I became jaded? I did everything I could to make magic for my own kids and I think I did okay with that. 

I just can't do it anymore. 

There's so much I feel I can't do anymore. Not just physically, although that is part of it, but mostly I can't seem to do much of anything and I suspect there is some depression going on here. 
Whatever, it is not uncommon for me this time of year. I am not surprised. I suppose that in feeling like I can't do everything, I am feeling like I can't do anything. 
Does that make sense? 
Is there such a thing as Christmas paralysis? 
If so, I have it. 

Hell. 

I just finished listening to a book that probably did not help. "I'm Glad My Mom Died" by Jennette McCurdy. I thought for sure that the title was a bold hook to get people to read it but (spoiler alert!) nope. 
Quite frankly, McCurdy had every right to be glad her mom died. 
But it wasn't exactly an uplifting book. I think that many of us could relate to her story though, and we should all be so honest...

Well, this post is just a big ol' Santa's bag of Holiday Cheer, right? 

Tom is home. I do not know whether he just put on his clothes and walked out or whether he was discharged. And that is the way it is and I do not blame him. Home is where we sometimes have to be, no matter what home is like. 

I am grateful, so grateful, for my home. It is mostly where I want to be and it is comfortable and I feel safe here, and not only do I have hot water (which I think I already said that Tom does not), I have a kitchen where I can cook anything I want to cook. I have internet so I can speak to you. I have an incredibly comfortable bed, two cats who amuse and comfort me, and of course, a husband who would pretty much do anything for me and who appreciates what I do for him. 

And so much more. 

This too, shall pass. Perhaps like a big old honking kidney stone and pain will be involved, but it will pass. 

Love...Ms. Moon