We’re being somewhat non-traditional this year and I’m not sure how I feel about it. On some scales, tradition is very important to me. It’s a way to connect to years past and people I may not have ever met. A little bit of history, lived out in the present. It’s something to look forward to every year, and reminisce about years before.

On the other hand, there are times when I tire of formality and doing things just because they have always been done that way. For instance, one year J and I and his immediate family decided to scratch the gift-giving thing (for the most part) and run off to Canada to stay at the Four Seasons hotel for Christmas - then we enjoyed Boxing Day afterward. That was a fun way to escape the monotony of Christmas Day, and the crowds of pre-Christmas shopping.

Although I will say that the pre-Christmas crowds have got nothing on the Boxing Day crowds. The stores quickly exceed their fire code limit on the number of people permitted inside, so you have to take a number and wait in line just to get IN. And for all the hype, the “great deals” on Boxing Day aren’t really that great.  I think my grand total of loot for the day was a sweater.

This year we aren’t forgoing the traditions lived out each year, generation after generation. We’re mostly forgoing the traditions we set ourselves.

We’re not sending out Christmas Cards/Newsletters. That has been something I have been religious about most years. This year I find that I just don’t want to spend the money and energy writing, printing pictures, putting them all together, addressing, etc.

We have no lights outside. I’m sure the neighbors are beginning to think that we don’t ever celebrate a holiday. Christmas is the only holiday we have ever taken the trouble to decorate for, and we’re not even doing that.

We don’t have any decorations on the inside either. Last year was our first Christmas in this house, and I probably single-handedly supported the commercial holiday industry by bringing home 500 tons of Christmas decorations over the course of the season. This year they are all in boxes in a closet.

We’re not having a Christmas Party. This was a tradition we started last year because we finally had a house worth inviting people over to and really enjoy hosting parties. We had a great turnout last year and loved seeing all our friends and family and with the exception of a flying pot of cyder and some mysterious sticky stuff that ended up on the carpet, it went smoothly and was nothing but fun. Unfortunately, this year we just couldn’t afford it and presents. So we opted for presents.

We’re not getting a tree. Mostly because we have a 1-year-old that likes to remove objects from their place and distribute them around the floor, and a dog that likes to confiscate anything he finds on the floor and chew it into itty bitty pieces. I have no interest in walking in to find that all the glass ornaments hanging at the bottom 3 feet of the tree have been stripped off, and distributed in tiny shards around the house.

There will be no array of presents spread about the base of the tree, because a) no tree, and b) our 1-year-old also likes to dismantle wrapped gifts. All presents will be securely stowed out of reach and probably transferred to my parents’ house for safekeeping.

For the time being, none of these changes really bother me. I just hope that when we’re sitting around on Christmas Eve, I don’t start to wish I was curled up on the couch with my hot chocolate, staring at the twinkle of a tree, and basking in the glow of 10,000 little lights strung up around the house (inside and out); stockings hanging over the fireplace and a warm and peaceful aura all around. That’s one of my favorite parts of Christmas and this year it won’t be happening.

So, I’m curious - is anybody else out there a traditionist at heart?  Do you have any annual traditions that will be going by the wayside this year?

Today is J’s birthday.  For the next 3 months, I get to tease him about being an old, decrepit loser while I remain wrapped in the essence of youth.

Then I have a birthday and that same age becomes no longer an indication of having one foot in the grave, but a perfect representation of health and vitality.

Happy Birthday, Old Fart.

I accidentally spent $50 on Amazon.com. You know that button that says “Buy Now with 1-Click?” Yeah. They mean that.

If you press that button there will be no order confirmation, no chance to change any of the details. Just a page that says “YOUR ORDER HAS BEEN PLACED. IF THIS WAS AN ACCIDENT, TOO BAD. IF YOU ARE STUPID ENOUGH TO PUSH THE 1-CLICK BUTTON OUT OF CURIOSITY, CONSIDER YOURSELF LUCKY THAT WE’RE SENDING YOU THE PRODUCTS INSTEAD OF JUST CHARGING YOU AN IDIOT SHOPPER FEE.” Or something to that effect.

I am a fickle online purchaser. I make my selections, carefully weed out my cart until it contains the perfect blend of absolute necessities. I proceed to checkout, enter my card information, then delete my entire cart and cancel the order.

It’s probably some kind of neurosis with a long scientific name that is easily treatable with medications, and I should probably see somebody about that. But those medications are probably expensive and cause weight gain as a side effect and frankly, I’d rather be crazy than poor and fat.

But the fact remains, when I don’t get the chance to confirm and cancel my order, it kind of unsettles me.

That, and that $50 came out of the “Christmas fund” so J is all pissed off now because a) we have $50 less to spend on family, and b) he was going to give those books to me for Christmas.

And you wanna know the really sick part? I could probably find a way to cancel the order before anything has been shipped. Yet somehow, I just can’t bring myself to do it.

Santa is totally bringing me coal this year.

I hope you all enjoy the day of stuffing yourselves silly and lounging around pretending to watch football so nobody sees that you’re really napping with your eyes open. Or maybe that’s just me.

We’re having a low-key thanksgiving this year. That will be a big change. Every year we do an enormous gathering with my extended family. There are about 40 people and everybody brings their kids and food and it’s absolute chaos. All the women end up in the kitchen and all the men end up in front of the TV. Except me - I usually hang out with the guys because why would I voluntarily spend time in a kitchen, especially one that already has 20 people in it?

This year, we did the whole mass gathering early due to scheduling conflicts. So today it’s just my little immediate family and some decent food. I have no plans for stuffing myself silly, and I will feel quite comfortable going upstairs to take a nap during football instead of avoiding the appearances of anti-socialness to stare blankly at a screen of large men in tight pants running into each other.

It’s in the 70s here today so it should be a great day to take Button outside and walk off that meal. Maybe if I walk her around long and hard enough she’ll actually TAKE A FRIGGIN NAP TODAY, a chore she has seen unfit to participate in as of late. Yesterday I spent 3 hours trying to get her to take a 30 minute nap.

I’ve discovered that refusing to nap is the one thing my child does that can absolutely make me lose my mind as a parent. DOESN’T SHE UNDERSTAND THAT SHE NEEDS TO NAP? DOESN’T SHE UNDERSTAND THAT I NEED HER TO NAP???

Anyway, Happy Turkey Day. May the food and naps abound.

If I am ever in any kind of an actual emergency situation, I pray to God that my mother is not present.

Tonight Button was sitting with my dad in a reclining chair. He sat up and as the chair de-reclined, her foot got caught between the cushion and the base of the chair.

She started crying - as babies do when things hurt. And my mother dropped whatever she was doing in the kitchen to rush over and…comfort…the situation.

“TOMMY, WHAT ON EARTH DID YOU DO?”

“Her foot got caught here when I sat up”

“OH MY GOSH! I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS! I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU!”

Meanwhile, I am holding my crying baby, trying to calm her, which is difficult to do with all the tension going on in the background. I can’t imagine how her foot could be broken from that kind of situation, but I check anyway. She can move it just fine, it’s a little flushed. It doesn’t seem to bother her when I squeeze on it or rotate it.

“IS IT BROKEN? SHE COULD BE DAMAGED FOR LIFE! I JUST DON’T UNDERSTAND HOW THIS COULD HAPPEN, SHE HASN’T HAD ANY TROUBLE ALL DAY AND YOU HAVE HER FOR FIVE MINUTES AND THIS HAPPENS! I KEEP HER ALL THE TIME AND SHE NEVER GETS INJURED. I JUST CAN’T UNDERSTAND IT TOMMY!”

“Well do you think I did it on purpose?”

“Mom, I think she’s going to be fine. It just hurts but it’s not broken or anything.”

“IT’S SWELLING, I CAN SEE THE SWELLING! WILL SHE LET US PUT AN ICE PACK ON IT?”

“Probably not.”

She runs to get a pack of frozen vegetables. Button refuses to have a pack of frozen vegetables on her ankle, but is content to play with them. She has stopped crying and has developed an interest in a slice of tomato she sees on the counter.

My mom positions her ankles.

“I’M COMPARING. IT’S SWOLLEN. SHOULD WE HAVE IT X-RAYED???”

“Mom, it’s not broken. She’s fine. If she was really injured, she would not be this distracted by a tomato.” Button is currently munching happily on the tomato.

So my dad feels like he’s been publicly flogged, I am looking for my red sparkly shoes so I can wish myself home, and my SIL has observed the scene and is wondering what the time limit is on having a marriage annulled due to family instability.

I sometimes wonder how I survived my teenage years.