Thursday, December 16, 2021

Bah! Humbug!

 According the pop culture dictionary the phrase "Bah! Humbug!": is an exclamation that conveys curmudgeonly displeasure. The phrase is most famously used by Ebenezer Scrooge from Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol published in 1843. This character was most famously portrayed by actors such as Micheal Caine in "The Muppets Christmas Carol", George C. Scott, Jim Carrey, Sir Patrick Stewart and Christopher Plummer. 


Bah! Humbug! This phrase sums up perfectly my extreme dislike for Christmas. 

In case you missed it and LOUDER for the people in the back: I DO NOT LIKE CHRISTMAS!  I have a curmudgeonly displeasure regarding Christmas. In fact, if we never celebrated the holiday ever again I would not be sad. And yes, I just heard your audible gasps and silent judging.  

Yes, I am a Christian and I know Jesus is the reason for the season. Yes, I know how to keep Christ in Christmas. But Christmas isn't about Christ; most especially for Christians. 


So why don't I like Christmas....Let's start with the Man Himself! 

Santa Claus, Jolly ol' St. Nicholas, Kris Kringle. The lie. When my husband and I were first married, many years ago B.C. (before children) he made the request that we do not have Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy or none of the mythical creatures and traditions for our children. I was at a lost for words. What were we supposed to do? Not lie to our children? I asked him why he wanted it this way. His response shook me: "Because when we finally tell our children that all of these things were fake, I do not want them to question if God is real."

It made absolute sense to me. So when our oldest was born and for her first Christmas, Santa was no where to be found. Our children have been given the truth, that all of this comes from Mom and Dad. I have been judged by this decision because this lie is the magic of Christmas. The "magic" is a lie.... think about that for minute. Both of my kids have known the truth that Santa is a part of the Christmas Spirit of giving. That he came from the story of a monk named Nicholas who did great deeds but the commercialized Santa Claus isn't real. We also taught our children that many other children believe he is real. We taught our children to not disrespect the belief of others. What others believe and do not believe is their own and we should never belittle their truths. 

I tend to roll my eyes during that Sunday School lesson that reminds us that all blessings come from God and we need to recognize and give thanks to God for what he did for us. It is inevitable that someone always mentions Christmas morning when their kids open their presents and give thanks to Santa Claus and not to the parents who did the work. The feeling expressed is one of sadness that they, the parents, were not properly thanked (insert eye roll here). Frankly, you set yourself up to not be thanked. 

I grew up with the idea of Santa Claus. I was 6 years old when I was told he wasn't real and that it was simply my parents who gave me all of my gifts. This was devastating but as I got older it made sense. I couldn't understand that I had been good all year and I would see a kid in my class who bullied and made fun of others getting lavish Christmases and gifts while I had been the good girl and got very little; not knowing it was all my parents could afford. 



When I was about 4 years old, I remember fighting with my brother. My mother threatened me with cancelling Christmas if we wouldn't stop fighting. Her words were that she would put a note on the door telling Santa to not bring us presents because we were naughty. Looking back, I was willing to be good for a man that did not exist before I would be good for Jesus. 

As true Christians, Santa Claus is an ideal that we have given to our children that places a fictitious character before our God. (See Commandment #1). If your intent is to focus on Christ and put Christ back in Christmas, the fat man and his elf must go. 


I do enjoy Christmas music- all nine of them! Let's face it, there are few Christmas songs and we listen to a remix of each. This year I have officially banned the song Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. Why? Think about it. A reindeer is bullied because he is different. No one steps into help him - not even Santa until Santa realizes that Rudolph can do something for him. You may argue that this is a song to celebrate our differences and I can agree with that. But if Rudolph didn't have a red shiny nose but was missing a leg and could not help Santa? Would it still be a story that celebrates our differences? It is a song that doesn't encourage us to celebrate our differences unless that difference can selfishly serve us. 




Christmas is also about gift giving and so for someone like me, whose love language is Gifts (giving and receiving) - this should be the greatest day of the year for me. RIGHT!?!?! No. Not at all actually. When I was a teenager, Christmas was a meager event. I had a single mother who did her best. She would take me shopping for Christmas with her to help pick out gifts for my siblings. At the same time, I would get my gifts too. But I would have to wrap them and wait until Christmas to open them. 

As I became an adult, got married and had kids, Christmases didn't get any better. I have had many Christmases where I received nothing but gave to everyone. In order to keep the peace at Christmas with my husband and within my marriage, I pay for it. ALL of it. The food, the gifts, the cards, the decorations. All of it. My only husbands only responsibility is to take care of the cost for our Christmas movie; that was the compromised made. I share this with you not for pity but to show you how much this holiday hurts. In a holiday that should feed my love language, it starves it. 

The expression of my dislike for Christmas isn't only about the gifts. I love giving gifts! I love seeing the look on my children faces when they tear into the perfectly wrapped paper or bag. I love the joy I see from others when I have given them a gift thought out and one that reflects them. That does not go away just because I did not get anything in return. 

Finally, I dislike Christmas because it seems it is only time of year that people care to give to charity. Why can't you give to charity because it is a Wednesday? Why does it only have to occur for 31 days out of 365 days of the year? I have heard preached over the pulpit that we should carry the Christmas Spirit in our hearts all year long. Let's be honest, who does? Who is willing to share the love the other 334 days of the year? People aren't not just in need during December. July is a great time to serve and give back to our communities. 

Christmas is a week away and while it seems like I am a disgruntled elf, I am really not. I am a good Christian woman searching for the true meaning of Christmas. To me it is a celebration of the birth of My Savior, Jesus Christ. Due to the demands of the season, I find it hard to see that celebration when everything about the holiday distracts from it. It tells lies, feeds our inner narcissist, tells our inner child that they are not good enough because they got a small or no Christmas at all and distracts from the peace that so many search for. 

Christmas time is a time of traditions that bring good memories and people together.  Christmas is a time for us to be, not just better Christians, but better Humans. Now is the time that we need to truly let go of the traditions and a holiday that starve us emotionally, physically and spiritually. There is goodness to be found in Christmas but for now, I see that the current expectations/traditions starves me more than it feeds me. 

BAH! Humbug! 

Monday, November 29, 2021

Are you there??? It's Me... Honey

 Once upon a time, I had a blog. Actually, I had two of them; one for my family and the other for myself. I used the one blog to keep my family updated with of course, my family. The other - this HONEY POT, I used for myself. I used it to express my feelings and thoughts. Now is as good of time as any to come back to this blog. 

Blogging... the genesis of the "influencer". Also known as the generator of lifestyle porn. Then... Like My Space, "Blogging" became a thing of the past. 

Since no one comes to read these things anymore, I guess the internet is the safest place to bear your soul. Or at least get paid for faking the ideal lifestyle. 

"No Success can compensate for failure in the home" 

I grew up in the world, where a women's only value was and still is their ability to bear children. Along with the bearing and rearing of children, you must keep the ideal, pristine and perfect home. As a woman, your value is also based upon your ability to sew, cook, clean and sacrifice yourself in the pursuit of creating a "Heavenly Home." And those kids that you bear, are supposed to be perfect. To define that perfection: it is a flawlessly put together photo worthy child(ren); no mess, flawless hair and clothing, sitting statue still obediently.  (Think... Instagram worthy photos, or Pintrest Pictures but in real life - all of the F***ing time).  

That picture perfect child portrays a standard to all mothers, telling us that this is what/how your child should look, act, think and do. And if your child cannot meet that standards then you are a failure. And to complete this picture, you must maintain a that slim figure, meet the current beauty standards of the world and serve your husband sexually (with the knowledge that you are meant to deny your own sexual needs/identity). 

When the quote, "No Success can compensate for failure in the home"  is uttered, it isn't speaking necessarily to fathers or husbands. That quote is always directed towards women. It is a warning to not work outside your home. It is warning that to pursue your potential is wrong. It is a statement that places the future of your family entirely upon your shoulders. You're autonomy and identity is not longer yours- it belongs to your husband and children. Sure, you can pursue an education.... until your husband comes along. Then it is your job to make sure his education comes first but once your first child is born, you no longer are meant for anything other than your husband and children. 

I still live in that world. Except... I am not the mother who stayed home. The choice to do so was never given to me. I have children who have those picture perfect moments but realistically are their own person; messy, disobedient and individuals learning to be good humans. I am not the same weight I was when I got married 20 years ago; my figure is more round than slim. I didn't meet the beauty standards of my high school years, I am most certainly am not going to be able to meet them in my adult years. This doesn't mean I didn't stay active or have a healthy lifestyle, it simply means I am not the girl called Lucky who fit into her size 0 jeans, 2 weeks after giving birth...every time. 

I experience the mixed message of: embrace who you are but you have to do it within the confines of these expectations. Strangely enough, I can see the fallacy of the make believe world of perfection. I can see the lies being told. So why do I feel and see only failure? 

"My Angel Mother" 

All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother. -Abraham Lincoln 

As a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, in April and October of each year we have the opportunity to hear from the leaders of our church. Without failure, someone give a talk and includes their standard of Motherhood. This story includes mother getting up one to two hours before everyone so they can read their scriptures, dress and prepare for the day (hair and makeup included), make breakfast and lunch for all of their children (husbands included), have family time (scripture study and prayer) in the morning before everyone leaves for school and work. They are the PTA president, the chair of something to some community group, serve the widows down the street and makes sure that dinner (made from scratch) was on the table in time for father to arrive home. She also has the ability to sew, cook, bake, craft and keep a spotless home all to the standard of perfection. 

For those women who could and do do that - I commend you. There is honor your identity. 

For the rest of us; there is still honor in your identity.

The problem of stories like these create a questioning of our own selves. I am not the "Angel Mother" I was expected to turn into. Because of this I have those dark days that I question on whether or not I should have had children or even gotten married. I obviously did not meet the standards set forth by my family, culture and religion. So once again, I feel and see only failure. 

The Reality of Who I am

 I know the pain of not being able to get out of bed. I know the reality and guilt of letting my kids make their own lunch in elementary school and failing to make dinner seven nights in a row. I couldn't be the room Mom because I worked and when I volunteered to help in other ways, I was rejected. I finally gave up on scripture time and family prayer with my family in order to keep the peace with my children. I attend church without my children every Sunday. 

I am not the "Angel Mother" I was expected to turn into.  

I suffer from depression, anxiety and PTSD. I take medication and see a psychiatrist and therapist for these conditions. I am an overachieving people pleaser. I have Fibromyalgia and recently had to have my spine fused do to arthritis, stenosis and compression. Due to other health issues, I have had 8 surgeries in the last 21 years. Yet, the voice of my culture tells me that my health is no excuse. 

My house has clutter and piles of clean and dirty laundry. I have the inevitable pile of clothes that need to be hung up in my closet but no exercise bike to pile them on. My bed does get made every day. The dishes get done and the trash taken out daily but my house hasn't been dusted or vacuumed since last week. I still hear the echoes of my Sunday School teachers... "Is your home clean enough for Jesus to visit?" with the expectation that the physical cleanliness trumps the spiritual cleanliness. 

I have a potty mouth and my kids are no longer surprised to hear mom drop the occasionally F-bomb. I love a good cup of coffee and drink way too much diet coke. I travel without my husband and kids at least twice a year. I have a Master's Degree and full time job. I read 40-ish books year. I love to cook, bake and create. 

I am a part of the Gen X generation. Technically, I am what you call a "cusper"; given my year of birth and being at the end of one generation and the beginning of another, I can identify with two generations. I belong to the generation that was expected to follow the path set by the Baby Boomers. Yet, I fight like a Millennial who demands the equality that our mothers were once and are still denied. 

Falling into this generational crevice, means that I don't belong. I am too old to be young and too young to be old. I have never found that groove where I fit in. 

How do I, how do you, how do we find balance? That balance of knowing we don't have to be perfect but to keep striving for the best. How do we once again find our autonomy and reclaim our own power over our own bodies? How do we accept failure as something worthy? How do we see past the lies and embrace the truth? 

More importantly.... to those once upon a time bloggers turned influencer...is what you are showing the world real? Because the picture perfect life portrayed in sermons and through social media does not lift up other women. It is perpetuating the ideals that are keeping women in the cycle of an emotional poverty.