'Twas The Middle Child Tuesday Before Christmas

My how time flies...another Christmas turned up as I blinked my tired eyes (yeah, I'm a poet AND I know it..)

Personally, I find Christmas to be far less jolly than it is made out to be; unlike my previous childhood merriment over Santa's Christmas Eve visits to both my mom's and my dad's houses (indulging in two Christmases made parental divorce a sweet perk for me as a tot).  The lore of St. Nick being one I once clung to adamantly - even after receiving the cold hard news about his true identity.

Having convinced myself that I had, in fact, seen him on the roof of my neighbor's home, I believed with utmost certainty that Santa was the real deal.  And since I was a child, but six years of age at the time, I was only slightly drunk - so I had no cause to doubt my own lying little Kringle seeing eyes.   Though once my dad spilled the beans about the Santa Claus facade, acceptance of the truth inevitably settled in; and since then, the season has become less and less appealing.

True - that declining enthusiasm could also be due to the fact that I grew up.  And now, viewing the tale through this grown up lens makes the fable about a bearded fat guy wearing a red suit, breaking and entering into homes while families sleep sound pretty creepy.  Its the stuff that nightmares are made of.  So what if he leaves gifts?  He eats people's food and kisses their moms.  The whole thing is seriously icky.  Think about it.

In adulthood, instead of sugarplums, Christmas now brings about images of crowded malls, insufficient funds, long holiday parties, congested roads, and work related madness dancing through my head.  However, festive sparkling decor, decadent foods, and an admittedly unhealthy love for lavish spending have traditionally sufficed in outweighing my grown up aversion to the insanity of the season.  For some reason, though, this year has been different.

Creepy Intruder Image via Wikipedia

Without question, Roman's sudden death in 2006, right before the holidays, created a gloominess that now hangs with my thoughts during this time of year.  Coupled with my memory of our last Christmas together, my association with the season has become somewhat tinged - since the Christmas of 2005 was celebrated only halfway.

December 6th, 2005, was Roman's birthday.  That year, we celebrated with a simple dinner out followed by a quick trip to Target to buy a tree.  At that time, we lived in a dumpy - albeit affordable - little ghetto apartment, located within walking distance of the store.  Being that we were so close to home, it did not make sense to saddle the roof of my old Civic with a tree, when Roman could easily carry it home instead.

Carry it home, he did; but he did so while running the short distance home, rather than walking as one might expect.  And as I drove by him on my way home, I nearly peed from laughter since his swift stride made it appear that he had lifted the sorry tree from Target - like it was some kind of stolen loot.

About a week after we finished decorating the Christmas tree, we heard a faint rustling coming from living room downstairs.  We were about to fall asleep when we heard it.  The crackle was soft, but definite, so we both got up to investigate.  Finding nothing however, we assumed the sound was of no concern and headed back to bed.  And all was well until the next morning.

We had recently purchased new Motorola Razor phones, so I woke early that next day eager to fiddle with mine.  At the time, it was the most advanced phone I had ever had.  It seemed complex...There was a camera on it and everything.  Coveted gadgets like phones with cameras were indulgences that we could finally afford, since I was recently out of grad school at the time and was bringing in a regular income.

As I sat at the kitchen table tinkering with my new luxury, I must have been very quiet.  So quiet that the creature who had been stirring the prior night, was emboldened to emerge from hiding.  And out of the corner of my right eye I saw it move - then stop abruptly.  Turning reflexively toward the movement I next saw the biggest rat I have ever seen in real life.  Without a thought, I jumped on the table and screamed.  I screamed loud enough to scare the disgusting intruder away, but not loud enough to wake Roman. Still upstairs enjoying his Sunday sleep in, it took a second shrill scream to finally gain his attention. And long story short.  We found a new apartment that very same day.

The tree was given to a neighbor before we left. The soonest we could move in was Christmas Eve, which we eagerly agreed to because we assumed there would be plenty more Christmases to celebrate in the future.  We were fine forgoing one holiday if it meant moving to a nicer, newer, cleaner, rat free apartment.  So that Christmas was spent moving and unpacking.  It was a good time for us..we were moving up in the world.  We were like The Jefferson's - only younger and whiter.  Life was exciting at the time, but my memory of it is now sad in retrospect.

Yet still, with the exception of the year he died, I have managed to rise above those blue reminders and enjoy the spirit of the holiday each year since.  I now have a new love in my life who has made the Christmases of the last couple years special.  But as I said, for some reason this year has been harder.

Maybe its because of the dreary unrelenting rain we have had lately (something unusual around here, even when the weather throughout the rest of the country truly IS frightful).  The mind numbing drain from stress at work last week could also be the culprit.  Or it could be the culmination of a little bit of everything.  Whatever the cause though, this Christmas is one I am simply too tired to partake in.  And to be completely honest, I wish it would go away.  Plus as if all that was not enough, today is Tuesday to boot.

Brady Image via Wikipedia

For readers unaware of my thoughts about Tuesday, allow me to explain.To me, Tuesday is something akin to the middle child of the work week.Tuesday is not reviled to the same degree as Monday. Tuesday does not have a cheeky nickname like Wednesday's double entendre, "Humpday," nor is it hip enough to run with Thursday as part of Friday's cool kid entourage. And its certainly not flashy like the day to end all work weeks - the day we all love, "Miss Popular," Friday.  So, dear readers, unless you happen to have a particular affinity for Tuesday, feel free to think of it as I do; as the Jan Brady of weekdays.  Likewise, if any of you happen to also be experiencing a Christmas induced case of the bends, do join me in a collective "Marsha, Marsha, Marsha" until this funkified yuletide is done. Because this year, is turning out to be my middle child Christmas. Its certifiable.

That is not to say that I have not tried to get into the celebratory swing. In fact, today, on this Tuesday before Christmas, I indulged my crafty side and made the header photo for this post.  Yes, in case you were wondering, I actually did make it all by myself.

Rocco, my cat, is always good for instilling some needed warm and fuzzies...and while adorning said photo with gaudy holiday chotchkies, I admit, I was feeling some accompanying holiday cheer.  But when I finished my work of art, I felt much like I do while at work after having busily occupied my mind with the flow of an activity.  Like that familiar feeling of disappointment when I look up at the clock expecting the day to be nearing an end, only to realize it is not yet lunchtime.

Ho ho humbug!

I'm hoping that maybe practicing these sweet Peanuts dance moves will make the season more bright.  I have had my eye on the dancer wearing the orange shirt for some time now.  Perhaps mastering his deceptively simple steps (the greats always make it look easier than it really is) will be my little gift to myself - replacing images of holiday blues dancing through my head with ones of dancing grooves.  Perhaps its the very nudge I need...Maybe not. At the very least though, I suppose it is good for a chuckle - something guaranteed to decertify any seasonal Tuesday middle child funk for a little while.

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