I’m sitting at the computer, waiting for the sugarplums to start dancing so that I can place presents in piles for the kids.  I’m so tired that instead of listening to Perry Como croon Christmas carols to me, I’m rockin’ out to White Zombie.  Whatever, I’m sure Rob Zombie celebrates in his own way too – don’t judge me.

I’m passing the time until Alena’s cough settles down long enough for her to fall asleep and for Emma to Tweet herself into slumber.  I’m also passing the time until I can see Jason again.  I’m not out for a pity party – some people have it much, much worse than I do right now and I know that I am lucky – extremely lucky – to have what I do.  That doesn’t mean that my darkest days aren’t looming around in that everbusy brain of mine.

*Dear Lord it sounded like Santa just came through the roof*

Anyway – where was I?  Oh yes, dark and twisty on Christmas Eve.  People tease Jason and I about the way we love each other.  Mostly, it’s in good fun because both of us agreed on one thing before Rubeck and Ms. Noe became “Jason and Heidi” – we thought relationships were settlements – and that was that.  In three years, that gruff, tattooed, scowling Devil Dog has shown me what unconditional love between two adults really is.  He puts up with my neurotic ways, laughs at my nerdiness, feeds my guilty pleasures of Vera Bradley and shoes – but more than anything, he LOVES me.

On Friday, as most by now know, he had an emergency appendectomy.  His appendix burst – and basically in the worst place possible.  When the doctor told me, point blank, if we would have waited any longer to get him to the hospital, there wasn’t anything he would have been able to do, it honestly felt like someone grabbed ahold of my stomach and pulled it out through my mouth.

People say that when you have a near death experience, your life flashes before your eyes.  I’ve had such an experience and I can tell you that this did NOT happen to me.  However, when the surgeon told me about cutting it so close with Jason, OUR life flashed before my eyes and the three years of memories, lifetime of dreams, and never-ending love burned images into my brain at warp speed.

I’m feeling a bit selfish this Christmas Eve.  Yes, I’m thankful (eternally thankful) that Jason is getting better each day and closer to coming home to me, however, I’m sad that we’ll miss our first married Christmas together.  The mere fact that he isn’t here with me leaves a void that is incomprehensible.  I hate that he’s alone in a hospital room on a night that, in my eyes, is still so magical.  I’m struggling in a role that I excelled at for so long – the single parent.  One part of my brain is telling me to suck it up and do my job.  Another part is wanting to just cry.

There’s no crying….there’s no crying on Christmas Eve.

I’m watching the clock tick it’s minutes away, listening to highly inappropriate music for Christmas, and balancing on want and need.  The coughing has ceased and the social networking has gone quiet.  Here come those sugarplums.

http://youtu.be/lkN5M-nJx6A

With the Christmas season counting down its last days, I look around my house and see presents and lights and evergreen.  I smell cookies baking and cinnamon candles burning.  I hear Perry Como crooning all my favorite carols.  This, to me, is Christmas season. 

However, growing older has tied in many unpleasant feelings as well.  Stress over the money spent, the time allotment for festivities, and the fear of forgetting someone or something.   There’s the anxiety of kids finding Christmas presents that are tucked away, the sadness for the loved ones we’ll miss celebrating with, and the fretting about the bills that will come in January’s mail. 

I’ve learned a few things over the years.  I started up a Christmas Club bank account a handful of years ago and add to it every year.  Does this ease up my financial strain?  Yes.  However, I still stress over money because something else will have to be bought, I want people to have more, or I miscalculated something.  I keep a planner AND  a Christmas binder that helps keep gift ideas, addresses, and party dates in check.  That doesn’t mean I haven’t missed something, though – those calendars are only as good as my pen to the paper is, and sometimes, I forget.  I hide gifts – sometimes so well that I find one or two come April or so, I miss my friends and family (and pets!) that are no longer celebrating with me, and I will forever dislike bills. 

The point is, it’s human nature to sweat the small stuff – but the small stuff can take away from the big ol’ fun stuff that are our rewards.  Big deal if I lose a 4 pack of socks that I planned on stuffing into a stocking?  Surprise gift for no reason in June!  So what if I’m packing festivities in?  I love spending time with my loved ones!  A fat bank account?   What’s THAT?!?! 

I say “Merry Christmas” with a smile on my face because that is what I celebrate – and want to spread that cheer to others.  I give to the Salvation Army kettles every chance I get, even though I struggle just as much as others.  I wrap an obscene amount of presents because it makes me happy and makes the receivers of said gifts smile, too.  My house has eight – yes eight – Christmas trees because, in my mind, there just can’t be enough Christmas.  There’s nothing, in my opinion, like the feeling of laying in a dark room that’s only lit with the lights from the Christmas tree. 

I don’t care if people want to say that I don’t know the true meaning of Christmas because I’m commercialized.  I know I celebrate the birth of Christ.  I don’t care if someone wishes me a Happy Hanukkah, a joyous Kwanzaa or a simple Happy Holidays because of THEIR beliefs – they are still wishing me good tidings.  I’m good with my traditions, my beliefs, and my feelings. 

 So, to my family and friends, I wish you a very, very Merry Christmas.