I felt kind of sad the other day. Mrs. Goob has told us that she would be here for Christmas (No, that’s not what made me sad!!! We’re so excited and honored that she’s coming here!). But she asked what traditions we have.
And I became sad because I guess we really don’t have any. We used to go to midnight Mass and come home and eat Mama Bear’s ham and homemade yeast rolls. Then midnight Mass became 10:00 PM, then 8:00…and it just wasn’t the same. Mama Bear passed away, and a lot of the family time went with that. The kids and BR don’t really practice or have a faith anymore, so…it’s just me. Not really enjoyable being at Christmas Mass with all those families and me with just…me.
And I guess all the effin’ crap with having a blended family and dealing with two sets of kids and two sets of exes and trying to get kids to two different states really took away from any set traditions…one year one set of kids would be going to the ex’s before Christmas while the other set was scheduled for after…and the next year that would flip-flop. There were two sets of Christmas expectations, too. One of the first Christmases with our blended family, I asked the kids to write up a Christmas list. Goob asked what the amount was so he would know what to ask for…that really floored me. I grew up not really poor but not with a lot…that kind of demand at Christmas just upset me. The exes were always about the one-upmanship at Christmas, so Christmases really…sucked.
About the only ‘traditions’ I keep up with is an Advent wreath on the table and a Nativity set placed out. But I’m the only one who says any prayers with the blessing of the wreath or at the mealtimes, so again…it kind of sucks.
But it didn’t really hit me until Mrs. Goob asked. I guess I feel responsible, because it’s usually the mother who does all these things, making Christmas Christmas…and I didn’t do them.
But there is one thing I always did…make sure the kids each received an ornament each year. I still need to do that this year. Maybe I’ll do that this week. And then maybe I’ll go put up a tree.
I don’t know. I just don’t know.
Maybe we’ll run over to Bellingrath Gardens. I’ve lived nearby all my life, yet have never gone. Maybe this year, with Mrs. Goob. Do my own damn tradition.