Striped Toe Socks

Growing up I loved Christmas. Not only did I get two weeks off of school, but there were all the fun holiday traditions my Mom and Dad had established. (and there were presents, but of course I was never that materialistic) My Dad would decorate the inside and outside of the house, candles in the windows, garland on the railings and over the doors, lights outside. We would spend an evening decorating the tree, the perfect tree, that my Dad had picked out. On Christmas Eve we would go to church for the candlelight service and then watch A Christmas Carol (the George C. Scott one) or It's A Wonderful Life. In the morning we were allowed to open out stockings before our parents got up, but had to wait for them for everything else. After presents my Mom would make a special breakfast. I loved it, all of it, I would look forward to it all year.

As an adult I've tried to hold on to all those special things, tried to make my own traditions, but my husband is pretty indifferent to Christmas. He doesn't have all the great holiday memories that I do. It has said over and over that "it's just a day". After his parents moved away he was sad without them, missing them extra during those family times. We spend one Christmas dinner alone together and he cried over his loneliness.

Now his parents will be home for Christmas for the first time in years and he wants to leave, to go to Cleveland and spend Christmas with his grandparents, who we are frankly, just not close to. I can't help but feel like the holidays of my youth are lost to me now. Now Christmas is stress and worries and fighting, and I hate it.

Ugg.