Can Blogs Even Have “Holiday Specials”?

It’s the holiday season, so I obviously wanted to do something kind-of-sort-of holiday-ish to celebrate. I’m not really sure if blogs can even have “holiday specials” but if The Simpsons are doing it, then I want to do it, too.

Although I love the holiday season—Christmas is hands-down my favourite time of year—this one has been a struggle for me: Because of all the craziness going on in the world, this is the first Christmas that I’m not able to spend with my family. They only live about eight hours away, but the pandemic restrictions just keep coming and coming and I just wasn’t able to get home this year. 

It’s hard.

And I’m sure many individuals are in the same boat as me, or in a boat that presents even further challenges. Like I said, I’m only eight hours away from my family, yet I know there are individuals out there who live on completely opposite sides of the world than the rest of their family.

One positive thing that’s come out of this experience is that being away from my family really has solidified the fact—there’s no doubt about it in my mind—that the holidays are not about gifts whatsoever. I couldn’t care less about gifts right now. I’ve come to realize that the aspect of the holiday season that I enjoy so much is being with the people I love.

How the Grinch Stole Christmas is not just a cute children’s book. It’s real life, okay?

Nothing Beats Being a Kid on Christmas Morning

Since I can’t actually be with my family this holiday season, I’ve found myself reminiscing more than usual upon Christmas memories.

I can honestly say that I don’t think anything beats being a kid on Christmas morning, especially growing up in a household where Christmas was—and still is—a big thing: the anticipation building up to the moment when you can finally wake your parents up to open gifts (the rule was typically no earlier than seven o’clock in the morning at my house); running down the stairs to find stuffed stockings, gifts under the tree, and a plate full of half-eaten cookies devoured by Santa himself; sitting down to Christmas dinner after mom slaved away in the kitchen all day (she still does all the cooking); and then slipping into a food coma in good company after dessert.

I’m sure there are some of you who have very similar Christmas traditions as mine, and quite a lot who have their own traditions whether it’s going on a Christmas family vacation every year, going caroling from door-to-door with friends and family, or even volunteering at a shelter in your locality. 

Or maybe your tradition is to skip the holiday season altogether, which is totally okay, too. 

It’s a rough time for a lot of folks, and understandably so.

A Very Merry Mom-Made Christmas

You might be wondering why—on a blog that primarily discusses feminism—I’m telling you about my current holiday hardships and why I loved Christmas as a child. Well, it’s because this is a lot cheaper than therapy.

Only kidding (though if you want to psychoanalyze me based on my family’s Christmas rituals, you’re more than welcome to do so).

This might not be true for every household, but Christmas was very much a mom-made holiday in my house growing up. My mom did all the Christmas prep-work: she did the shopping for the whole family—gifts and food—and she wrapped all the gifts. If you could see how my mom wraps gifts, you might think they were shipped directly from Santa’s workshop.

I’m not quite sure if my mom was the one who put the gifts under the tree while we were sleeping. That job might have actually been my dad’s since it’s also Santa’s responsibility to eat the cookies and down the milk, and I know for a fact that my dad can eat an entire box of cookies in one sitting. He might have just been doing this while my mom carefully placed each gift beneath the tree and filled the stockings, though. 

Along with the Christmas prep-work, my mom did all the cooking and clean-up on Christmas day, too. She would spend all morning in the kitchen cooking and have us fed by mid-afternoon, then she’d spend some time cleaning afterward. It probably wouldn’t be until seven o’clock at night—a full twelve hours after we woke up to open gifts—that my mom would sit down and relax.

So, the point of this “holiday special” is to recognize all of the moms out there—including my own, of course—who make Christmas special for their family. Well, not just make Christmas special but make Christmas itself because—let’s face it—Christmas doesn’t come from a fat guy with a beard wearing a suit that probably needs a good wash by now.

For me, Christmas always came from my mom (with a little help from my dad every now and then).