I loved to wear big red bows in my hair and sparkly Holiday sweaters. As soon as Halloween was over I would start anticipating my grandparent’s Gingerbread house and the candy jars that sit on their counter every year. I loved driving around and looking at Christmas lights and taking our yearly pictures in front of my house with of the wooden angels my grandfather carved years ago.

Every year my parents and sister and I would wake up around seven in the morning and get our “Santa” presents that would be waiting for us on the couch. Yes, even at the ages of 22 and 26, my sister and I still went through the motions examining each gift, then hugging our parents and saying cheezy things like ” Santa sure was good to me this year,” or “How did Santa know I needed new underwear?” Then we would walk across the street to my grandparent’s house where my cousins would be waiting (not so patiently.) We would spend an hour or so opening up our stockings and drinking coffee. Then we would eat some breakfast and open our gifts to each other. My grandaddy always dresses up as Santa and comes in for a dramatic kiss with my grandma. It is really the most perfect Christmas you can imagine.

I can’t tell you how much I usually look forward to all of this.

I’m not trying to go Bah Humbug all over your faces, but somewhere in the last couple of years it seems I have had a dramatic change in my sentiment.

Don’t get me wrong, Thanksgiving with the family was nice. Albeit a little different from most years, but it was still enjoyable. My grandfather was still in the hospital on Thanksgiving day so my dad stayed with him and my grandmother in the hospital. It was a little weird not having any of them at our Thanksgiving dinner, which is now held at my aunt and uncle’s house.

In addition, my parents split up a few months ago after being together since they were fifteen, so my mom wasn’t at our dinner either.

For the last few months I have been anticipating that things would work themselves out by the time the holidays came around.I know that my parents are entitled make changes if they feel that they need to, and I ultimately just want everyone to be happy… but this kind of makes me want to get on the floor and throw a tantrum. I keep telling myself that I can handle it, that it’s no big deal that there are going to be some major changes in my life when it comes to my family. For the most part I can deal, but some things are going to be more difficult than others to face. Like losing family traditions…

Ok, I’m sure I’ll come back to this subject at some point, but for now I think I’ve talked about it all I care to. Needless to say, I’m a little more bitter than I usually am this time of year. I know I sound whiny and that things could be so much worse. I am so grateful for everyone in my life and that my grandad is doing so much better. But I still sometimes wish things could just go back to being the way they were when I was 10. Or at least I could go back to the blissful state of  ignorance that I had at that age.

But alas, life moves on… or so they say.

Christmas music is already starting to grate on my nerves. I haven’t bought one present. I have literally gained 7 lbs since last Wednesday. And after spending 3 hours yesterday scraping gravy off of my walls after the massive food fight that ensued at my house on Saturday night, I never want to eat mashed potatoes again. Which makes me sad because I love mashed potatoes.

I tried to watch an ABC Family Christmas movie yesterday, and that didn’t even cheer me up.

I hoping that in the next few weeks I’ll have an attitude adjustment for the better, because I really don’t enjoy being grumpy during the holidays.

I had quite an eventful weekend and hopefully by tomorrow I’ll be in the mood to write about some of the more cheerful happenings in my life. Until then, Bah Humbug.

Things have certainly changed in the life of BB over the last 14 years. She’s no longer the cute little poodle that we were so proud of. She has an extreme underbite and a huge… something… growing out of her forehead. She often gets looked over by members of  our family in favor of the other, younger dogs. The only way she gets a piece of table food is if it happens to drop and inch from her mouth, and the person who dropped it is too lazy to pick it up.  Instead of sleeping on pillows like a princess, the poor thing walks around with nuggets of poop hanging off her tail because the only grooming she gets is an occasional trim with the kitchen scissors. Sad, I know.

However, I have just found a really good excuse as to not feel so bad. In fact, I’ll be happy the next time someone asks what kind of dog BB is. Check out horrific article about a boy whose poodle got “fried to death” at the groomers…

BB