Holidays Suck
The Eight Crazy Nights are fast approaching, and I'm dreading their arrival.
I used to love Hanukkah. I'd go to parties, we'd light candles, eat a ton of fried food, and drink wine. We'd talk about everything and nothing, perhaps watch some football, and just have a wonderful time. But that was all before children.
When you have children, Hanukkah is all about the presents. Quality time with friends and family is nonexistent to a child - it's anathema. Your presence is tolerated because that's the only way the kids will see those presents.
But even worse: you want to buy your kids everything. You look at your measly budget and think "I don't need to eat for the next several days, I can swing this purchase!". Then your stomach reminds you there's a reason you're 30 pounds overweight, and you don't purchase that Handy Manny overpriced whatever. Instead, you buy a 5-scoop sundae at Friendly's to drown your depression at being such a poor parent who can't give your children everything they want, and what is this "teach them budgeting and delayed gratification" crap anyway?
My inner child awakes when I walk through the store, and sits on my shoulder like some bad 70's movie:
"Your son NEEDS those Thomas the Tank Engine tracks!"
"I don't have the $69.95 for the genuine Thomas tracks. I can get twice as many tracks if I buy Imaginarium, and it's only $39.95."
"Loser. You know those generic alternatives are crap! Stop being so selfish and get him the Thomas! You don't need to pay the phone bill in January because all your friends will disown you for buying the loser version of those tracks!"
On and on it goes. Row after row of guilty pleasures, me constantly wondering if I've taught "enough" of a lesson of delayed gratification and the finite nature of money to my children, and maybe just this once, I can splurge on them. Forget that I gave in 3 days ago and bought Wall-E; I haven't bought anything for them today, have I?
I was hoping to make menorahs from tongue depressors and glitter; have fun with my kids making latkes in the kitchen; playing dreidel and telling dibbuks. Instead, my son runs up and says "where's my present?"
Oy vey.
I used to love Hanukkah. I'd go to parties, we'd light candles, eat a ton of fried food, and drink wine. We'd talk about everything and nothing, perhaps watch some football, and just have a wonderful time. But that was all before children.
When you have children, Hanukkah is all about the presents. Quality time with friends and family is nonexistent to a child - it's anathema. Your presence is tolerated because that's the only way the kids will see those presents.
But even worse: you want to buy your kids everything. You look at your measly budget and think "I don't need to eat for the next several days, I can swing this purchase!". Then your stomach reminds you there's a reason you're 30 pounds overweight, and you don't purchase that Handy Manny overpriced whatever. Instead, you buy a 5-scoop sundae at Friendly's to drown your depression at being such a poor parent who can't give your children everything they want, and what is this "teach them budgeting and delayed gratification" crap anyway?
My inner child awakes when I walk through the store, and sits on my shoulder like some bad 70's movie:
"Your son NEEDS those Thomas the Tank Engine tracks!"
"I don't have the $69.95 for the genuine Thomas tracks. I can get twice as many tracks if I buy Imaginarium, and it's only $39.95."
"Loser. You know those generic alternatives are crap! Stop being so selfish and get him the Thomas! You don't need to pay the phone bill in January because all your friends will disown you for buying the loser version of those tracks!"
On and on it goes. Row after row of guilty pleasures, me constantly wondering if I've taught "enough" of a lesson of delayed gratification and the finite nature of money to my children, and maybe just this once, I can splurge on them. Forget that I gave in 3 days ago and bought Wall-E; I haven't bought anything for them today, have I?
I was hoping to make menorahs from tongue depressors and glitter; have fun with my kids making latkes in the kitchen; playing dreidel and telling dibbuks. Instead, my son runs up and says "where's my present?"
Oy vey.
posted by Mama Padawan | 7:44 AM
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