Ahh, Christmas ... Turkey, Presents and Dog Farts.

I look forward to Christmas every year, despite all of the hard life lessons I've endured. Either this is a testament to my stubborn ways or perhaps I'm just plain dumb.

My Christmas anticipation begins in September, the last day to be exact, when I flip the calendar page to October, beginning the countdown through Halloween and Thanksgiving, which always zoom by at the speed of sneeze. 

The events surrounding Thanksgiving is a forecast of  what's to be expected for Christmas that year. Basically, it's a forecast of Mom's craziness and whether or not it's worth paying premium prices to celebrate the birth of Jesus in Hawaii. Nothing says, "Hallelujah" like a roaring surf, a Mai Tai and scantily clad fire dancers. 

Some Thanksgivings are filled with cheer and extended family, featuring turkey, pie and sharing rich foods with our gassy dogs. Other Thanksgivings serve as a platform for Mom's rants and raves. It was especially confusing and hurtful as a young girl to wake up to the aroma of a roasting turkey in the morning, anticipating a delicious dinner all day and then not being able to eat because Mom suddenly decided my brothers and I were ungrateful bastards unworthy of her cooking. Looking back, I can clearly see I was the most ungrateful 12 year old bastard of a girl you would ever meet, refusing to wear pigtails and fluffy pink dresses like I did when I was five years old. I'll probably burn in Hell for my rebellious ways.

Sadly, this year forecasts cloudy with a chance of meatballs for Christmas. Mom and her meatball brain pulled another one of her stunts over Thanksgiving. I'll spare you the details, but it involves Mom encouraging my husband and I to leave town for the holidays and then quickly inviting everyone to her home upon confirmation of our departure.

Does it hurt? Hell yeah it does. 

So why do I still anxiously anticipate Christmas with the same starry-eyed hopefulness I had as a little girl? 

I love driving miles just to see rows of bright lights on other people's houses. I love drinking hot chocolate with my husband and kids (even though I don't really like hot chocolate). I love hunting down the perfect tree from Tom's tree lot, dragging it home and illuminating it with strings of LED lights. I cherish the happy looks on my kids' faces when they open their gifts (tickets to Hawaii this year - SURPRISE!). I love Christmas music and the feeling in the air all month long, a feeling so thick I can almost grab it with my hands. I love holding the little candle at church and listening to the congregation sing "Holy Night" as we give thanks for a savior who paid the ultimate price. I find this whole time magical and miraculous. 

A painful time? Yes. But also a reminder of how good I have it.

And Mom ain't got nothing to do with it.

Amen.