Bring on a new year

It’s almost the night before Christmas, and I say bring on the New Year. Am I a Scrooge? Quite possibly, yes.

I know it is Jesus birthday, and I do love Jesus, but can’t I celebrate it without the lights, the fanfare, the Visa bill? I mean, certainly his birth did not come with all the build up that Christmas comes with now.

And to make matters worse, almost every time I turn on the radio or enter a store I hear the lyrics, “It’s the most wonderful time of the year …” Oh, yeah? Then why is this line so long, and why do I feel so cranky, and why is it I’m so busy buying that I haven’t had any time to spend with my children?

Maybe I’m like Charlie Brown and manage to take a wonderful season like Christmas and turn it into a problem.

Anyway, I long for a new year. I heard once Christmas is like the Olympics of motherhood. If that is the case, I’m not much of an athlete. My daughter made all of her own cookies, the choir director keeps nagging my son about returning the choir robe, I’ve just now mailed the Christmas cards, and I haven’t even delivered all of our Sally Foster wrapping paper. It’s just not my season.

But New Year’s? That I can do. I make the best turnip greens, just ask my daughter, and I can open the best can of black-eyed peas. And I can resolve to work-out, get up early, go to bed early, drink less, write more, pray more, run, you name it. Yes, New Year's I can do.

And if I don’t? Well, nobody’s disappointed. In fact, it’s expected. So, I say get a move on, Santa. Baby New Year is coming through.