I love Christmas. I really do. And I'm not going to talk about the spiritual side of it (yes, that's the most important thing to me).
What I love is the idea of the holiday. Even the way we celebrate it here in the US. I love the giving of gifts, the surprise on people's faces when they realize that you were actually listening back in August when they said they just loved (or needed) that special something. I love seeing what your special someone (for years, even in adulthood it was my mom...thanks, mom) puts in your Christmas stocking.
What I don't love are my personal, false expectations of how it ought to be. I had a bit of a meltdown on Christmas Eve. Too much to do, fear of failure, fear of rejection. Possibly all irrational thoughts, but floating around and settling in my brain nonetheless.
By Christmas morning I had straightened myself out, with a lot of encouragement from my honey. We had a marvelous day. Very relaxed. Joe came over and we opened our stockings. My mom called and asked if I liked the funky old mirror she found for me. Uh-oh. Hadn't actually opened presents yet. (But I do like the mirror!) Popped the turkey in the oven and cooked all day. It was marvelous. I am learning to be a hostess like my mom is, relaxed, and fun. No one has ever died because the day was not perfectly orchestrated. Joe's mom and cousin came over and we ate like pigs. My dad stayed home and humbugged. He should have come. The turkey and everything else came out perfectly.
So now it's over and we can plan for the new year. 2011 had big things in store.