They’ve hit hard this year. I’m not sure why this year is worse than others, last year was darkened by the sudden death of my brother in law but even then I wasn’t nearly as sad as I am this year.
I’m missing the old days. We did Christmas when I was a kid like there would never be another Christmas and this one had to be the best ever. I spent hours shopping, in stores and online, looking for the perfect present. We started planning in the summer, crafting began in June or July and there was always that last present that was just finished up Christmas Eve. It was a time of joy, of delight in watching the faces light up and hearing, “where did you FIND this? It’s perfect!” It wasn’t about the stuff – okay, it was about the stuff – but it was also about the joy of giving.
My grandchildren want money. Nothing else. Money. I feel like an ATM. There is no planning, no joy, no happy excitement. My husband makes the Grinch look like a Christmas lover. He also wants nothing. He’s more than happy to buy me presents – if I tell him what I want.
He can’t buy the joy.
Maverick will be more spoiled than normal. That may or may not make me feel worse.