Bad Parent: Sorry, Can't Make It
There's no place like home for the holidays — my home.
by Jeanne Sager
December 18, 2008
Since before Thanksgiving, economic forecasters have been warning that holiday travel would be way down this year, at least ten percent. People just can't afford the airfares, the hotel bills, the meals out on the road.
Well, we sure were ahead of the curve on this one. Since our daughter has been old enough to slip her fingers beneath the edge of a wrapping paper seam, my husband and I have refused to leave our house for the holidays. So, why did we turn down all those invitations before we had the economy as a scapegoat? Because we finally realized we could.
Thousands of advertisements are hitting TVs, mailboxes, newspapers and the Web right now depicting families gathered 'round the tree, families lighting the Menorah, families out caroling, families carving the ham. In case you haven't noticed, it's the time of year when you're supposed to play nice and act like you're one big happy you-know-what.
But when I became a mother it finally occurred to me that I 'd never had an experience even remotely like those ads. My most vivid Christmas memories are of a hallway at my grandparents' house. I am huddled in the darkest corner, tears streaming down my face. My evil cousin, a smirk spread from one heavily freckled cheek to another, stands over me victorious.
What sadist said the best part of Christmas was the chance to bring family together under one roof?
We haven't shut down the holiday machine — just the family.
Or under a few roofs. Our holidays were spent shuffling from one tense family gathering to the next. We loaded up the family wagon and took off over the river and through the woods. Or so the song went. Ever notice that song leaves the directions in the hands of the horses? Maybe it's because Mom and Dad were busy knocking back some liquid courage to handle the scene at Grandma's house.
We still take our daughter to see Santa at the firehouse in the days before Christmas. We drive around town to check out the light displays. We stop in at the library for story hour with Mrs. Claus. We read books about the Maccabees and the oil too, just to round out her education, and we let her sprinkle red and green crystals across the cookie sheets and counters to help us get ready for the big day. We aren't the Kranks. We haven't shut down the holiday machine. We've just shut out the family.
©2008 Jeanne Sager and Babble
About the Author
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Jeanne Sager is a freelance writer and photographer living in upstate New York with her husband and daughter, Jillian. She maintains a blog of her award-winning columns at jeannesager.blogspot.com. |
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