For a Good Laugh

If you're anything like me, you are feeling the pressure that Christmas Eve is in (gasp!) four days. (Umm, how did that sneak up on me so quickly? How do I not even have my Christmas cards yet?  And why do Target and Toys R Us seem to be sold out of everything that I'm looking for?)

So, I'm a little behind this year.  Maybe you are too?  Neither one of us really has time to be hanging out on blogs.  But, this little excerpt below made me laugh out loud so I'm posting it here in case any of my sister friends out there need a good laugh right about now.  I think you'll relate.  It's a few paragraphs from a new book I'm reading, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, by Rachel Held Evans...

"Okay, I'm just going to come right out and say it: A lot of women secretly hate Christmas.

Now, don't get me wrong.  We love that picturesque moment in which the tree is lit, the fire is crackling, and the children outfitted in matching candy-cane pajamas dance around the living room to Tchaikovsky, showing off armfuls of new toys while a twenty-pound ham bakes in the oven; we just hate the anxiety disorder we developed while attempting to produce it.

There seems to be some kind of universal agreement that the advances achieved through women's liberation need not apply during the holidays.  It's as though the first trumpet peals of "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" sent blasting over the PA at Bed Bath & Beyond are designed to trigger an internal short that shocks us all into Stepford mode, donning aprons and strained smiles and sweaters that have no business surviving another decade.

From the baking aisle to the post office line to the wrapping paper bin in the attic, women populate every forgotten corner of Christmas.  Who got up at 4 a.m. to put the ham in the oven?  A woman.  Who elbowed you out of the last reindeer Pillow Pet left on the shelf?  A woman.  Who sent the Christmas card describing her eighteen-year-old son's incarceration as "a short break before college?"  A woman.  Who remembered to include batteries at the bottom of each stocking?  A woman.  And who gets the credit for pulling it all off?

Santa.

That's right.  A man.  

Oh, we would be a lot angrier about all of this if we weren't so tired.  But by the time the 25th rolls around, we're all out of fight.  Drained of our humanity, we have more important things to attend to - dishes, returns, disappointed in-laws, and a mild addiction to whatever holiday-themed Starbucks product we were pumping through our systems that year."

Can I get an amen?
 
On a completely unrelated note (and because I wanted to include a photo with this post), aren't these two cute?   This was taken at Home Depot in Oaktown two weeks ago when we bought our Christmas tree.  They are completely, 100% a handful and into all kinds of shenanigans these days.  (I'm sure they were sword fighting or punching each other just seconds before I took this).  But, thankfully, at the end of the day, they are still cuddly, snuggly, and delicious.  And that keeps me going!   

Hang in there sister friends.  We got this.