Slipper Socks, Size 8

Closer...closer..closer...I can feel my trip to CA sneaking up on me. It alternates between cat-like stealth and banshee-like ferociousness. The variations keep me edgy.
I am largely looking forward to it, if only because I haven't seen my sister since June. But, oh, the baggage. Both literal and metaphorical.
Of course, we're bringing Clooney. What's another $100 each way? Also, some one else to whine, bitch and complain on the flight. Wonder what he'll be like after a bourbon and Coke?
Of course, we have to check a suitcase. What's another $25 each way? If I can make it under the 50 pound limit. Don't the airlines know that M's shoes alone weigh a ton? And jeans? And Christmas presents? I don't want to pack.
Then, the metaphorical baggage. Of arriving on Christmas Eve. This has disrupted the traditional Xmas Eve dinner. Of bringing the dog. Of you know, NOT CELEBRATING CHRISTMAS.
When M and I married, we agreed to raise our family in a largely secular, but culturally Jewish home. But like all nuclear armament treaties, environmental pacts, and trade agreements, the arrangement doesn't necessarily apply to my family. There have been concessions.
The kids' annual ornament on the tree: not my tree, no problem.
The presents: MORE PRESENTS. My kids are swimming in presents. I have asked and asked for limits, but apparently Christmas-kah, birthdays, Easter, Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Fourth of July, Halloween and Arbor Day are gift-limit exempt days.
Santa's Pretend: A series of mishaps led to this revelation. I think my mom is disappointed my kids don't believe. I think my mom is disappointed that I don't believe.
Christmas brings out all the best and worst in us all. MK believes that while Triptofan causes drowsiness, cranberry sauce or dressing causes conflict. Maybe it's the mistletoe. Isn't it poisonous? There are all these conflicting images of Christmas: the families of old movies, like It's A Wonderful Life. Everything is wonderful, and tinsel-y, and oh, darling, I am so glad to be married to you and your extended family. It's a dream come true. Do you think it used to be like that? The more appropriate paragon might be from The Ref. A burglar takes a family hostage only to find they're the most aggressively annoying people EVER.
There's also the conflict in personality that goes deeper than merely interacting with people who are not your blood relatives. It's the personality of those who deeply love all things Christmas and those who see it as just another holiday. I categorize these into Theme Sweaters and Grinches. Theme Sweaters actually have space in their houses to store those sweaters all year long, just to break them out with a certain fondness on Black Friday. These people decorate their houses, even though they have no children. They buy butter sculptures. These people wear bow earrings. They ENJOY shopping. They might even own Tartan Plaid Pants.
Then there are the Grinches. These people don't actually want to ruin others' love of the holiday, they just don't share it. Grinches watch all the Whos down in Whoville frantically preparing for their holiday and wonder wherefore? and why? Grinches just want all the decorations that have been up since Halloween to GO AWAY. We are eager to eat ham/prime rib/duck/turkey/whatever and enjoy it and move on. We will feel no post-partum depression on Boxing Day. We feel no triumph in taking that extra 30% off a semi-crappy we're buying for some one else. We don't have inflatable snow globes on our yard. We are wondering if it's 2009 yet.
So, in my family, there is a DNA glitch. A blood incompatibility. My father is Grinch positive and my mother is Theme Sweater Positive. Therefore I am Grinch positive and Theme Sweater Negative. It's not working well.
So, all you Whos down in Whoville. Party it up. Your days are numbered.