I enter the holiday season crankily complaining about too much Christmas too soon. I gripe about having to muster the amount of enthusiasm equal to the maniacal blinking lights, screaming commercials and nauseating made-for-
I assuage the depth of my angst by writing blog posts that try to either temper some of the excesses of the season or encourage others like me to just say, "heck with it" and spend December snorking down cans of Redi-Whip and reading Jane Austen (not that I...ever...did...DON'T JUDGE ME!).
That's only half of the tradition. The other half is that a week into December, Heir 1 comes along and drags me, kicking and screaming, into the holiday season.
And so, having read my post of last week where I extoled the virtue of moderation in holiday decor, Heir 1 showed up recently to not only to spew holiday cheer all over us, but to make sure that when he did, it was as tacky and unrelentingly tasteless as he could possible conjure out of a quarter-century's worth of accumulated Yuletide debris.
Heir 1: (pulling a mouse-eaten ribbon out of a box) Oh, yeah!
Me: Just throw it out.
Heir 1: Oh...It's going up!
An hour later, Heir 1 calls me in to observe his handiwork.
Me: It looks like Santa Claus threw up all over the bannister.
Heir 1: That's what you get for keeping every piece of red and green crap Joe and I ever threw together. I mean, seriously...
Holds up this:
Heir 1: You will literally hang onto anything.
Heir 1 suddenly gets a bright idea and picks the empty tea candle containers out of two votive cups.
Me: I think there is a statute of limitations on how long you have to hang up your kids' creations.
We stand and observe the overall effect of Heir 1's artistry.
Me: People are going to think it's just tacky decorating. I'm not sure my friends will see the irony.
Heir 1: (patting my on the shoulder) Mom...oh, Mom... (I think he is about to lecture me on intellectual snobbishness) You know you don't have any friends.