A little selfishness is healthy... I think...

I never have really liked the Christmas holidays. Even when my faith changed, i still continue to shy away from this time of year like it's a flame reaching out to burn the very wisps of my soul. I can't help it. Merely hating Christmas would be much easier.

My beautiful, amazing children... I always get excited to give them their gifts and discover each holiday's newness to them every year. Being their Santa and teaching them about who Santa was has also been very magical. Now, that they "know", it's even more wonderful. Each year proves more and more how they will be such strong, wise, and great adults in the future. They are my "reason for the season".

So, another Christmas season is past. I have 330 days to prepare to face another one. Trust me when i tell you i need all of those days.

I'm not a Scrooge or a Grinch. Truly.

It's just... Christmas makes my heart hurt a whole lot.

Then i get a year like this year. A year that leaves me feeling used, unappreciated, and unimportant. Especially to the one adult in this world i should be important to... The one who wants to be my companion and partner when our children are grown and merely coming to visit at Christmastime.

I decorated, cleaned, cooked, sewed, worked on a project with my every "spare" moment for our parents for the six weeks prior to Christmas, and so on. I chose presents carefully because quantity isn't really an option on our budget, but loving thought when choosing gifts is always affordable. I made extra meals so my husband could eat full dinners on days when his work kept him out later than usual. I ran errands for anyone who needed it, drove extra kids to school, picked up kids as well, and i always have a warm van for the kids at the busstop in the mornings. I've "cured" two colds, "fixed-up" a nasty spider bite, and treated an ear infection since Thanksgiving. I didn't complain. I still haven't said a word.

Because i love them. All of them. More than anything.

The parents all enjoyed their gifts. Digital picture frames for his parents and my mom. Each with an SD card loaded with pictures of all their grandkids from birth until the present. In chronological order. Yes, seriously. I loved working on that project. There were pictures i had forgotten i had of my kids. Time truly passes in the blink of an eye.

My kids loved their presents and my husband has already gotten hours of enjoyment from his. Our family present was a hit, too. It was a good Christmas morning. Although, i'm still positive we were the last household with kids in the continential US to open presents that morning since none of us woke up until nearly noon! ^_^

As always, the sadness i experience each year is constantly lingering beneath the surface of the mask i so easily wear. Yet, each year i hope. And i wait for the moments when the real happiness peaks through. Like watching my kids open their presents and dig through their stockings. Their laughter and excitement and gratitude is always a balm to the ache. Or the moments when we make breakfast together and sit and eat and relax.

I hope to be remembered. Even if it is only by a hug and a greeting. Someone who is pleased i could be there for the holiday. Of course, i always have that from my children. That alone should be enough, but, and maybe i am too selfish, yet i still hope...

Maybe this year my husband will remember me for something other than candles and pots or a new broom or kitchen towels...

Maybe this year i'll get more from someone than the look that says i should just be grateful they haven't verbally objected to my presence...

Maybe this year someone other than my children with think about a gift for me...

Something, anything, chosen for me. Not for my house. Not for my husband and i. Not for my vehicle. Or, gods forbid, not for my bath. Then again, with the exception of my children, no one knows me well enough for such a thing. Yet, each year, with the lingering ache, i continue to hope.

I don't remember ever getting a gift from my mother in the last, oh, let's just say it's been more than a decade. She still doesn't approve of my "nonsense" about "relying on a man" and being married. So, i never expect anything out of her. All year long.

Yet, i hope. Still.

I'm a glutton for trouble. Seriously.

This year i came close though. So very close...

Well, i thought the blanket was for me. It wasn't though. It was meant for our bed. But my husband doesn't like anything with pink or flowers... SO, i hoped i would get to keep it anyway...

I kept the blanket. It's a good snuggle blanket during these cold nights. However, there was some awkward bits from the gifter before i could keep the male-offending blanket. After all, she purchased it with her son in mind.

So, i got a present i can actually enjoy this Christmas. Even if it was by default. Not that i don't appreciate the pot i picked out to replace the pot my husband broke this year or the candles my husband got me to replace the candles in the living room that have been used up. I do appreciate those things... But maybe replacing a broken/spent household item as a present is kind of like buying a gallon of milk as a birthday present...

Then again, maybe i am just too selfish to see the difference...

Is it selfish to want to be though of as special enough for a present that someone shops for specially and chooses specifically for me? From someone other than my children?

Quite possibly it is since there are so many others out there who have considerably less than a pot and some candles.

Yet...

...just maybe...

It's part of the human condition to want to be thought of...

Just maybe...

Maybe...

The decorations are down now and, as with each year, i feel as if i packed my hope up with them. Leaving me with only the ache that something is missing from this year, too.

My hope. Packed with ornaments and twinkly lights. Resting until next year when i pull out the deckings again. Ready to envelope me with it's intoxicating dream. For another month. Next year.

Maybe next year...

I say nothing.

There aren't words for what i want to say. How do i do that? I'm not sure either.

I'm so glad i stayed with my husband. I'm truly relieved he took me back when he really didn't have to.

Thing is, i miss her. Like, a lot. More than i can convey.

How do i stop this? It's been years, yet i ache like it was more recent.

Lost and confused doesn't even begin to cover it.

Yet, i don't know how to talk about it. To anyone. People are so selfish and judgmental.

How do i say i still need her? To anyone? I can barely acknowledge it to myself.

I really don't have words enough for this. Damn.