Hoping

Sunday I informed Don that Christmas celebrations were not feeling very special. He agreed, but the wise man actually knew why. Repetition is not special. I suspect that Don is on to something here. "Christmas" has been a long drawn-out affair that just won't come to an end. And we still have the actuality of Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and some sort of visit with my brother and his wife to go. At least Christmas Eve and Day will be spent among friends adding a little variety to the stream of parental visits that saw last week out, the three day stretch of Christmas performances from band concert to Christmas Festival, and the holiday music selections practiced around here since late September. Not to mention the shopping (nightmarishly drawn out) and the baking (generally therapeutic)...
Last night, in an effort to snatch back some small measure of what could be a joyful season, Don suggested we go look at lights. Last year we walked all over surrounding neighborhoods. It was a ball, and we carried flashlights and sang Mommy's Christmas Medley (a blend of bits from every holiday song Mommy ever knew some words to...) while hiking about "ooh"ing and "aah"ing over all the pretty, sparkly lights. Except that we have a thirteen year old male in our household. In case you do not have one, they are generally a bit egocentric. Ours is also rude enough to announce that he finds looking at Christmas lights pointless. His father explained that the Boy's beloved video games were also pointless, but that they were entertaining... which was a point shared with Christmas lights.
So we went. And it was fine for the kids, including Mr. Grumpy. But it was not fun like it was in years past. Because it is Mommy's job to bring the fun, and Mommy was not in the mood for more Holiday Joy. Hello. Only Mommy can make "Mommy's Christmas Medley" work. (No one else is willing to sound that dumb by themselves until the others loosen up and join in...) Instead of walking, we drove in the car. And Mommy noticed that the lights seemed not-so-magical without the soundtrack of butchered Christmas lyrics and laughter. They were just electric strings of colored glowing glass wound around tree trunks, draped over shrubs, and tacked onto rooftops and doorways. And the memory of last year served to highlight the hollowness of this year.
Maybe tonight will see some of that vaunted Christmas magic revived? It could happen.