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I hated Christmas celebrations as a child. My parents did not believe in overindulgence, so we only got one gift for Christmas - usually an article of clothing. There were no treats or Christmas "feast" - no salt, no sugar, and no second helpings. I'd always dread going back to school because the teacher would ask us to announce what we did and got for Christmas. I'd listen to kids list all their great gifts and describe luscious meals with various meats and side dishes. Then it would be my turn. I'd stand up and show everyone my sturdy, oversized, and ugly sweater. Then I'd describe my bland dinner as the kids laughed at me.
I'm thankful I was able to afford Christmas when my son was young, and I made sure to make it big for him. When he was around 3, after gleefully opening all his packages, he turned to me and said "Mommy, where are YOUR presents - weren't you good this year?" It didn't occur to me to place any gifts for me under that tree, so I told him my gift was waiting for me under grandpa's tree. I called my dad and asked him to wrap a $20 in a shoe box and place it under the tree for me to open. They were on a fixed income, so I gave it back to my dad afterward.
When my son found out the truth about Christmas, he was very angry with me for lying to him about Santa. What bothered him most was knowing how much we had sacrificed in order to give him a good Christmas.
I'm also thankful my son is an adult now, no longer living at home. We no longer decorate our home. We can barely afford milk, so there will be no holiday shopping either. I'll try my best to endure the onslaught of shopping and holiday treat ideas. I'll try my best to swallow the painful memories, and I'll try my best not to cry over the good memories that will never happen again.
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