Go Hugh or Go Home

When do I break it to my husband that his biggest nightmare has turned into a reality?

That my last year’s birthday present wasn’t just a one-time deal but is being declared an annual event?

My rationale is this. One of the unanimously agreed best  movies of all time is Love Actually. It begins 5 weeks before Christmas. You know what else happens 5 weeks before Christmas? My birthday!

Put that together,  you’ve got a fine lookin jew. No, wrong…well half-wrong anyway. You’ve got an annual birthday present of decorating the house, TOGETHER (operative word here), for the holidays and ending with a fireside viewing of Love Actually. I mean, really? That sounds fantastic! Pure bliss, actually.

Now, some may say, “Whaaa? That’s WAY too early!”

To them, I say: Let’s get the shit kicked out of us by Christmas! If the entire world can shove holiday consumerism down my throat before the last fireworks explode into the sky, then I’m taking back my holiday rights. I’m taking back the warmth and coziness that Christmas is meant to be. I’m taking back the feeling of being wrapped up in one huge ass hug by all of my grandparents and their grandparents and their grandparents. I’m taking back embracing the bittersweet nostalgia of it all instead of defiantly turning a cold shoulder to a holiday that I love. I’m letting go of the put upon feeling that every decoration has to look identical to Pottery Barn’s page 27  or you’ll have a stocking full of coal. I’m squashing the stress of buy, buy, buy and blazing through with enough, enough, enough. I’m seeing through the naysayers who Bah Humbug the first sight of tinsel, and realizing that they may just need a hug and a smile. I’m realizing that we’re all our own versions of George Bailey and Clark Griswold , overwhelmed by trying to do our best and aiming to find peace in who we are and who we love. I’m listening to Seth McFarlane and Willie Nelson and Ella Fitzgerald’s Christmas records anytime I damn well please. I’m blaring Adam Sandler’s Hanukkah Song on a loop in the car so that I can hear the heart melt inducing squeal from my daughter when she hears her name being sung. I’m going in for the magic of it all. I’m shifting my feelings of guilt and unworthiness to pure innocence and tingling appreciation. I’m sharing space for the millions of people in the world who are grieving and recovering and dreading the holidays and I’m sitting with them. ALL of them. I’m closing my eyes, taking a deep breath, and sending them all a huge mental blanket full of love, compassion and light. I’m being truly grateful for the people in my life and the events that have brought me here. I am corralling all of my loved ones, past and present, into my mind and dedicating my thoughts to each one of them every single day.

I’m taking back my holiday, dammit.  Hugh’s comin’ with me?


2 thoughts on “Go Hugh or Go Home

  1. Love it! I’ll raise you one with our addition of spiked eggnog to our list of holiday traditions beginning in November. I think having young children allows us to get back in touch with holiday spirit, and why shouldn’t we?!


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