I, like most people with young children, have begun the process of deciding what toys I want to buy for my little cherub, and trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to pay for it. Pookie, being a tad less traditional than myself, feels that at the age of 2, Caleb is a tad too young for us to go all out. Unfortunately for Pookie, Malika feels that this, being Caleb's third Christmas on this planet, will be the year that we go all out on gifts.
We didn't get a tree last year, and I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't heart broken about that. Last year all I'd wanted was a tree and to buy gifts for Pookie and Caleb. I wanted for them to run into the living room and light up at the sight of a beautiful tree and dozens of gifts. Long story short, it didn't happen. And this is the year to redeem myself and my idea of what Christmas is supposed to look like.
I've noticed the commercials that says that Kmart has layaway, and I got excited about that being our potential option for my little pumpkin to get his much deserved December 25th. But then I walked my butt through Kmart, only to discover that, well, Kmart sucks. Seriously, its overpriced, under lit, dirty, the customer service people there look like they're straight out of the prison mental ward and the toy section appears to have been organized into a system that was designed by blind monkeys with down syndrome. Sadly, I still had to leave Kmart open as an option. *sigh*
Anyway, despite what Pookie plans to do (or in his case, not do) this Christmas WILL happen. One woman offered to lend us her plastic tree. That's another option I'm going to have to leave open, since I've really got my heart set on a real tree. I remember the first year that my mother got a plastic tree, and needless to say, Malika the traditionalist wasn't too happy. One of my primary complaints was that the plastic tree lacked that pine smell that filled our home. My moms actually found a spray that smelled exactly like a pine tree. Strange. She did it to make my little spoiled behind happy though. My only other gripe about the plastic tree was that it didn't leave those dang needles in the carpet that would stab your bare feet months after Christmas was long gone. Ah, the memories.
So anyway, yesterday, my roommate's friend came over and brought his son who is about Caleb's age. I chatted it up with the father and asked if he was going to celebrate Christmas, and he told me that no, he wouldn't. I guess he read my expression and explained that he was raised as a Jehovah's Witness and that to him and his family, Christmas is just another day. Don't get me wrong, I respect a person's right to worship or not worship whoever and whatever they want. I'm a borderline atheist myself. But there was something about hearing this man say that he had no intentions of buying his son a bunch of crap on Christmas that made my heart a little heavy. I explained to him that it wasn't just the toys. It was the excitement of seeing the child light up at the sight of all those presents. Its hearing the Temptations Christmas cd playing in the background. Its about the excitement of wrapping those presents. But it just didn't phase him.
Honestly, last year was the first Christmas that I even considered myself to celebrate in 10 years. Once I'd decided to no longer call myself a Christian, I no longer felt it necessary. I wasn't getting along with my family, so I made up reasons to avoid them during the holidays. But once I gave birth to my 10 pound 9.2 ounce angel, I wanted Christmas again. For him. And for me. And for Pookie. We are a family after all. One of the greatest joys I have experienced was last year was when I got Pookie a comforter and sheet set for his bed. Its kind of funny how he always appears to be so unexcited, but for people that really know him, you know how to tell when he's happy. And he was overjoyed.
So this year, I'm going for overjoyed for Caleb and his father. I want a big tree that reeks of pine and needles that get caught in our feet. I want to see Pookie break his back to get our ginormous tree through our front door and I want to hear him curse as he tries to figure out how to get the stupid thing to stand up straight in the stand.
I want Caleb babbling in background as I peck his father on the lips and wish him a Merry Christmas. Jehovah's Witnesses just don't get it.