Today's holiday moments are brought to you by Jessica Therrien, author of Oppression and Uprising. For more information about Jessica and her books, click here.
I go a little Christmas crazy every year. Yep, I’m one of those. You know, one of those too-jolly super shoppers who starts listening to Jingle Bells in October. I guess you could say I take the holidays seriously. Luckily, I’m not the only Christmas crazy out there. We are many, so I don’t have to be too embarrassed about that.
My family has always done things a certain way. Everyone has their tradition, right? Well we like to get up with the sun to open presents. Always have, always will…or so I thought.
A few years ago (okay…like ten) I spent my first Christmas away from my family. I was with my boyfriend (now husband) so I wasn’t about to complain. Being a part of his Christmas meant things were getting serious.
So we woke up Christmas morning, and I tried not to flip out because it was 9am and I had been staring at the ceiling since sunrise. Once we were up, I made my way to the tree and sat. I waited. No one followed.
It wasn’t my house, so I really couldn’t say anything. Instead I made small talk with his parents. Greeted his uncle and cousin as they rolled out of bed at 10am. Inside I was going nuts. I didn’t understand. This was NOT how Christmas was supposed to go.
I couldn’t hold it in.
“So when are we going to open presents?” I asked with a cheesy grin.
“Oh not until Aunt Chris is here,” hubby’s mom answered.
“Is she on her way?” I prodded.
“I think she said she’d be here around 1 or 2.”
Instant mental breakdown. I gritted my teeth. Kept it inside and walked away.
Christmas was ruined.
2pm rolled around and Aunt Chris showed. Again, I waited for people to head to the tree. NO ONE DID.
I lost it. Somehow, the lack of present opening had turned me into a 7-year-old, and I needed to pout. I made my way upstairs and called my mom in full-blown tears. We’re talking sobs here.
Hubby came in and caught me red-faced and blubbering. Ready for the embarrassing part?
His uncle found us and heard my seven-year-old sob story about the presents. It might not have been so bad, but Uncle Philski likes to make light of things. He dragged me to the living room and announced to the entire family that we needed to open presents immediately. He explained that I was crying over it so, “hop chop.”
Ten years later and I still haven’t lived it down.
“Alright Jess, see you bright and early,” Aunt Chris will say over the phone with a smile in her voice.
“Quick, open one, before Jess cries,” Phil will joke.
So there you go. Little miss crybaby lost it on Christmas. I’m kind of glad I did, though…it’s kept us all laughing for years.