12 Reasons I'm Glad Christmas Is Over

12 Reasons I’m Glad Christmas is Over

#12 - My Elf On The Shelf no longer has to outdo all the other flippin’ Elves On Everyone Else’s Shelves.  My Elf is worn out and he’d rather indulge in a glass of Christmas Cheer than Google his tiny brain to come up with something that will outdo little Johnny’s Elf who strung Christmas lights on the SUV and made a life-size stuffed Santa and wired him to the front of the car like it had just hit the Jolly Guy in mid-flight.  

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#11 - I don’t have to listen to Wham! sing Last Christmas I Gave You My Heart until next year.  And I will be writing Hillary Clinton about her proposing a national ban on playing the Chipmunks song anywhere other than through the loudspeaker at Guantanamo Bay.

#10 - I can expel my liquored-up, out-of-town relatives snoring in Misty Rae’s room who think the three wise men were José Cuervo, Jim Beam, and Jack Daniels.

alkhallanonymous.com

#9 - I can start writing my brag letter for next year.  “Donna Jean met her new year’s resolution to lose 95 lbs. and compete for Miss Teen Mom USA, sponsored by Skoal.  So sad she came in second!  Next time she’ll put a more modern spin on her acrobatic rendition of Ain’t Misbehavin’.”

www.disboards.com

#8 - Shrek The Halls.  ‘Nuff said.

#7 - No more paying $20.95 for express shipping for an $11 ring.

#6 - I don’t have to drink people’s eggnog to be polite.  Maybe if paired with a jello mold shooter...... 

#5 - Can the kids pleeeeze go back to school already?  I have to buy them stuff at Christmas AND fund their going to lunch with friends every day during Christmas break, not at McDonalds or Wendy’s, but at McAllister’s and Sekisui.  “How ‘bout I watch you take down the tree and lug all the boxes back to the attic, and then we’ll talk about handing you another $20 to fund your sushi craving?” 

#4 - I can start hoping Santa will get his mailroom right next year so that my new iPad doesn’t end up with some eco-mom in Scandinavia while I get stuck with a reindeer sweater.

#3 - No more ABC Family specials involving Magic Mistletoe Miracles.  And Hallmark movies with terminally ill Melissa Gilbert that leave me wondering why a handsome CEO can’t walk into my bakery and let me teach him what it’s like to love and be loved.

#2 - I can stop worrying about the sheep in my yard’s nativity display.  We have a purple Furby in it because raccoons made off with Baby Jesus three years ago.  They also swiped the pink flamingo and the penguin standing reverently around the manger.

arnoldzwicky.org

#1 - Having to be Politically Correct and saying “Happy Holidays.”  I’m ok with people telling ME,  “Happy Hanukkah,” “Happy Kwanzaa,” or “Zany Zombie Day.”  Just let me say “Merry Christmas” without feeling guilty!

So, I hope you had a Felíz-y Ramadan and a perfectly Grinchy “Who-liday” fest—as long as you leave me a gift.  Cash would be great.

A Sleighfull of Magic Memories

At Christmas my nostalgia rises like the aroma of Slice-n-Bake snickerdoodles wafting through the kitchen.  'Cuz I'm kinda like Peg Bundy instead of Martha Stewart.  

imasillymami.com

When my son comes home from college this month, I’ll pop a luscious Mrs. Smith’s pumpkin pie and Sister Schubert’s rolls in the oven to recreate the home-made aroma of Christmases Past, just like he remembers.  Nothing less for MY son.   

We’ll buy our live tree and decorate it together with the kids’ old handmade ornaments.  And like always, I’ll reminisce about the magic that permeated our home when little hands wrote crayon letters to “Santa Cwaus at de Nawth Po.”  

Dreaming of racetracks and toy kitchens with real sizzling sounds, my kids used to climb up on the mall Santa’s velvety lap.  One year, as I watched them there within the finger-licking scent of Cinnabon, I realized MY dreams had all come true.  

I stood in grateful silence.  Amid the chaos of scrambling elves and flashing cameras, I breathed an epiphany that grabbed my soul with both hands. It opened my heart like a sacred book, etching within its pages close-up snapshots of Dimples and Bashful in a smocked dress.  And the timid essence of a chubby little finger reaching for Santa’s beard.

thedailyjournal.com

The Jolly Guy gave them a treat as they slid from his lap.  But I didn’t realize I would turn around and their hands would clutch car keys instead of candy canes.

It seems like yesterday that three freshly-bathed kids, waiting for Rudolph, snuggled up to Dad as he read The Night Before Christmas.  My two girls with pink, chipped toenails peeking out from Barbie nightgowns.  And my son in his Star Wars t-shirt leaning in close behind Dad’s ear.  They hung on every word, and Dad paused at the end of each sentence so they could finish the rhyme.  

I never imagined listening to Dad would be so hard for them when they became teenagers.

Christmas Day meant the patter of four little feet in footy pajamas tearing down the hall and a wide-eyed, squealing baby girl toddling after the fun.  She was just happy to be puttering behind her brother and sister, learning by heart the meaning of Family and Forevers and Fa-la-la’s.  I was too.

petitlemblog.com

Toddlers in full-body fleece were long ago replaced by teenage girls in boxer shorts.  But I often stroll through photo albums and love on my sleighfull of memories wrapped in Silent Nights and Little Tikes.  

Leaping from fuzzy Polaroids, my snaggle-toothed Cindy Lou Whos bear hug me, and I forget the frustration of finding red icing smeared into the carpet and meltdowns in the toy department.  And sometimes it was the kids who melted down.

Once while Christmas shopping, I almost had a mental collapse changing a diaper under the raised tailgate of my SUV.  Unusually stressed, I fumbled with the sticky strips in drizzling rain while the other kids’ fists were flying in the backseat.  I felt a familiar twinge of bat crazy twisting from my stomach when a misguided Happy Meal toy smacked me squarely on the forehead and a Goodnight Moon book whizzed past my ear.  

Every inch of me wanted to scream, “I don’t deserve this!” but I tried to remember the awe of kneeling beside them after bedtime prayers and butterfly kisses.  That sense of wonder always washed away the spilled sippy cups of exasperation and every bit of drippy ice cream on new shoes. 

These days I am humbled when I steal into my teenagers’ rooms at night and kneel in the same holy spot I’ve knelt in for eighteen Christmases.  The sense of Extraordinary cleanses away the leaking Gatorade bottles of frustration and every ounce of dripping sarcasm on the phone.  It’s that magical moment of the day when I linger over their amazing, lumpy bodies under the covers.  My misty eyes trickle praises to the Creator and I marvel, “What did I ever do to deserve this?”

It's Not My Fault! It's the Elf On the Shelf!

It’s Not My Fault!  It’s the Elf On the Shelf!

How do you know it’s the day after Halloween?  Every suburban strip mall blitzes red and green, and declares that evil is SO yesterday and all the cool people are now into elves and eggnog.  Spooky store windows seem to turn on hinges revealing their twinkling toyshop side like in Harry Potter.

For me, Christmas decorations inspire warm and fuzzy stress.  From the depths of my eggnog, I feel a compulsion to create the most outrageously holiday doorway and tablescape in the neighborhood.

When my children were younger, I jumped on the Pretentious Party Bus and labored over mantle mania, fir flamboyance, and bannister blow-out.

The themes flanking my entry consisted of everything from “Who-ville Yule” to “Holiday at Hogwarts:  Glad tidings from Griffindor!”    

And don’t even get me started about that creepy Elf on the Shelf.  My first Elf bolted because I ordered him to clean up his messy, late-night Patron exploits involving strewn Coco Puffs.

                                                                                                  

  

 mommyofamonster.com                                                          post.fulldorm.com                                         

But later I succumbed to kid pressure and bought another Elf who unfortunately “enabled” my G.O.D. (Gone Overboard Disease)

I hosted an amazing NASCAR Christmas party.  As guests strolled through my threshold laden with 1,027 blue spruce branches, most of them didn’t even notice the colorful race cars and checkered flags arranged in the greenery.   Ken dolls dressed as Jeff Gordon with Santa hats and barely-dressed Malibu Barbies kissed for photo ops.  And elves changed tiny tires. And beer-chugging fans dressed in little Willie Nelson t-shirts.

creativekidsplay.com

My oblivious guests went straight for the drunk dog cocktail weenies and never noticed the angel tree topper dressed in a black and red #24 jumpsuit and my official Budweiser tablecloth.  

The next day, I found my suicidal Elf, who could no longer take the pressure, hanging by his tongue from an ice sculpture of the Daytona 500 trophy.

Age and exhaustion cured me of G.O.D.  My enabling Elf on the Shelf went to be with the Big Jolly Guy in the Sky after freezing to death from the ice sculpture debacle.  

My family says if I’m ever tempted to buy another Little Elf that rouses my addiction, they will stage an intervention and cut up my Hobby Lobby Visa card.

Santa replaced by his 3rd Cousin, Bubba Claus

Please visit Judy's website http://thesouthernladycooks.com/more-southern-things/ for a hilarious story about Santa Claus being replaced in the South by Santa's 3rd cousin, Bubba Claus.  Only TRUE Southerners will appreciate this.     Her whole website is great, but this is fantastic.

New Southern Santa

A new contract for Santa has finally been negotiated.
Please read the following carefully.

I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer be able to serve Southern United States on Christmas Eve. Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. I now serve only certain areas of Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Wisconsin and Michigan. As part of the new and better contract I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies.

However, I’m certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus. His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however,
there are a few differences between us…

1. There is no danger of a Grinch stealing your presents from Bubba Claus. He has a gun rack on his sleigh and bumper sticker that reads:
“These toys insured by Smith and Wesson.”

2. Instead of milk and cookies, Bubba Claus prefers that children leave an RC cola and pork rinds [or a moon pie] on the fireplace. And Bubba doesn’t smoke a pipe. He dips a little snuff though, so please have an empty spit can handy.

3. Bubba Claus’ sleigh is pulled by floppy-eared, flyin’ coon dogs instead of reindeer. I made the mistake of loaning him a couple of my reindeer one time, and Blitzen’s head now overlooks Bubba’s fireplace.

4. You won’t hear “On Comet, on Cupid, on Donner and Blitzen …” when Bubba Claus arrives. Instead, you’ll hear, “On Earnhardt, on Wallace, on Martin and Labonte On Rudd, on Jarrett, on Elliott and Petty.”

5. “Ho, ho, ho!” has been replaced by “Yee Haw!”
And you also are likely to hear Bubba’s elves respond, “I her’d dat!”

6. As required by Southern highway laws, Bubba Claus’ sleigh does have a Yosemite Sam safety triangle on the back with the words “Back Off!” The last I heard it also had other decorations on the sleigh back as well. One is Ford or Chevy logo with lights that race through the letters and the other is a caricature of me (Santa Claus) going wee on the Tooth Fairy.

7. The usual Christmas movie classics such as “Miracle on 34th Street” and “It’s a Wonderful Life” will not be shown in your negotiated viewing area. Instead, you’ll see “Boss Hogg Saves Christmas” and “Smokey and the Bandit IV” featuring Burt Reynolds as Bubba Claus and dozens of state patrol cars crashing into each other.

8. Bubba Claus doesn’t wear a belt. If I were you, I’d make sure you, the wife, and the kids turn the other way when he bends over to put presents under the tree.

9. And finally, lovely Christmas songs have been sung about me like “Rudolph The Red-nosed Reindeer” and Bing Crosby’s “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” This year songs about Bubba Claus will be played
on all the AM radio stations in the South. Those song titles will be:
Mark Chesnutt’s “Bubba Claus Shot the Jukebox,” Cledus T. Judd’s “All I Want for Christmas Is My Woman and a Six Pack,” and Hank Williams Jr.’s “If You Don’t Like Bubba Claus, You Can Shove It.”

Sincerely Yours,
Santa Claus North American Fairies and Elves Local 209