Tuesday, January 24, 2006

Have I Ever Told You I Hate the Holidays

I hate the holidays.  There, I said it.  Its not the whole Christmas thing.  I rather like Christmas.  The lights, the decorated trees, the whole compassion and brotherly love thing, give Christmas a lot to look forward to.  I just hate the holiday season.

You see, and Scatta can attest to this, in my life, the holidays always seem to bring angst and stress one way or another.  When I was younger, it was the stress of my mother who always seemed to try to do everything for the holidays.  She would purchase more presents than was reasonable (not that I am complaining about that, mind you) for our income bracket.  She would cook a meal for twenty people, even though there was only four of us for Thanksgiving, Christmas or New Years dinner.  So the weeks before the holidays would be filled with stress and consternation on the part of my mother, which then flowed over to my dad and I.

Now that I am out of the house, living with my family, and trying to live a little more realistic holiday season, you would think that the holidays would be stress free.  Oh, but no.  Something always seems to happen around the holidays.  This year started out when one of my students was killed in a car accident just hours after she completed the final exam in my class.  To add a cherry to that sundae, she was eight months pregnant and very much looking forward to celebrating the holidays with her husband and two-year-old daughter.  Hearing this news put me in a wonderful funk, just before my family and I left on our vacation (only time I get to get out of Dodge).

The day after we arrived at my in-laws, and working on pulling myself out of my funk, my father attempted a half Gainer in the living room and broke his hip.  This little event brought us home early, but not after having to put up with several days of trying to deal with the stress of two elderly people trying to manage hip replacement surgery over the phone.  You see, mom refuses to drive, dad was the designated driver, and now he is laid up in the hospital.  Thus, mom was forced to get rides from family members who she can hardly contain her disgust of.  And I got the whole thing over the phone.

Then, when we did come back from our abridged vacation, we found out that two very good friends of ours had medical problems too.  However, their medical problems make a broken hip look like a hang-nail.  One had an aneurysm and wasn’t expected to live (she did, and is making a miraculous recovery).  The other discovered that their eight-year-old daughter had a tumor.  

Well now, dad is home (he has already fallen once and mom has been fighting me on the changes we have to make in their home to accommodate dad’s condition).  The tumor isn’t cancerous and our friend with taneurysmism is doing much better.  Life returns to what passes for normal in the Cracka house.  So, with any luck, I will start posting more regularly.  Once I have recovered from my “vacation” that is.

SCATTAGUN: Your holidays always play out like "Stalingrad: The Remix".