First of all, picture Andy Williams – handsome crooner from the ‘60’s sitting in a large velvet chair in front of a roaring fire place; notice the angelic children, dressed in their holiday finest dancing majestically around. Hear the well-tuned instruments of the orchestra as they lead exuberantly into these heartfelt lyrics.
It's the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle belling
And everyone telling you "Be of good cheer"
It's the most wonderful time of the year
It's the hap-happiest season of all
With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings
When friends come to call
It's the hap- happiest season of all
There'll be parties for hosting
Marshmallows for toasting
And caroling out in the snow
There'll be scary ghost stories
And tales of the glories of
Christmases long, long ago
It's the most wonderful time of the year
There'll be much mistletoeing
And hearts will be glowing
When loved ones are near
It's the most wonderful time
It's the most wonderful time
It's the most wonderful time
It's the most wonderful time of the year
I couldn’t agree more.
Well, actually there are a few other times (of the year) that compare, but are hardly worth mentioning, like getting your wisdom teeth pulled out on Reality TV or running a marathon - without any shoes.
But holidays really are a time about family and friends, food and cocktails – and lots of good cheer. It is a time to shed the ‘uniform’ and kick up your heels in your holiday finest (okay, so I just switched from No Name sweats to Lululemon sweats – big deal). It is a special time of year. Name any other time of the year, when we are in such close proximity with loved ones, that we can see their smile lines – but not their smile, or we can hear a drop of sweat as it falls (from their body onto ours), or smell exactly what they ate for supper – last night, or find ourselves sandwiched between bodies so tightly that to move would cause an avalanche, that could affect the equilibrium of the whole country!
On the upside, I now have more empathy for Alice, the housekeeper, for The Brady Bunch, as well as some practical experience to put towards my psychology degree – should I ever choose to go that route. Furthermore, my hands have never been softer, I use Palmolive, “It softens hands while you do the dishes”.
Truly, the holiday season is great, right? All seventeen days of it! For the most part, we have had people around all the time. What a blast for the kids. One day we had such a gay happy meeting with so many of the kids friends over, I felt like I was running a day camp. I’m not afraid to admit that I felt sorry for the parents who dropped their kids off, and sauntered off, kid-less for hours – now what were they gonna do with themselves? I invited them to stay, to help with dishes, or laundry, but they turned me down flat!
On the downside, through the seventeen days of internment – I mean holidays; I found myself bed-ridden part of days each week – and it wasn’t the mistletoeing that got me there! I think the merriment simply got to me; either that, or it was the punch. The winds have been so high through this holiday season that first of all, I do wonder how Santa landed his sleigh, when runways across Western Canada were closed. We had weather warnings regularly for gusts greater than 90 km/hour. I don’t know if that has any meaning to you, but let me give you some perspective, that means a lawn chair could take off from our back yard and land across the street in our neighbors picture window in under one second! One day, we woke up and our house had been lifted up and moved two sub-divisions over. What a bummer, the kids are going to have to switch schools.
But seriously, the headaches that we headache sufferers suffer from were intensified by the massive winds that blew through the days. Now that doesn’t feel fair. I do feel lucky though, because Ward had to work for a week of the holidays, giving me sole responsibility for the home front. Oh, how I love to be in charge. I felt like Captain Margaret Craig Eaton, who led the Canadian Women’s Army Corps in 1944, and like Nellie McClung, who together with the Famous Five took on British parliament contending that women could be “qualified persons” (I have been trying within my own circles to do the same for Mothers), and finally, like heroine Mary Dohey, who, in 1971, prevented a hijacker from doing any harm, by speaking gently to the armed man – although in our house, it turned out to be Laurèn, dressed up as the sword fighting cat in Puss ‘n Boots threatening to rid the house of all siblings.
Today, such a sad day, the kids returned to school. Whatever will I do without them? I know one thing I am not going to do – get out of bed, or get dressed! I was considering calling in room service, but I couldn’t reach the phone from my bed and didn’t want to exert myself. Well, I for one cannot wait for the jingle-belling and hosting, toasting and roasting of the next MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR.
Happy Holidays!
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