My love hate with Christmas

I used to love Christmas. And then I hated it.

Now I love Christmas again.

My first love with the holiday, of course, was as a child. My family had enough, but we didn't have a lot. But somehow, on Christmas, my mom made sure we felt like the richest kids in the world.

Her love, of course, was all us children needed. But my mom had a knack for compiling loads of presents for her five children. And somehow, we never really stopped to think where all this once-a-year wealth came from.

In college, I worked at K-Mart. Let me say, if you've never worked in retail but you're an avid shopper, give those workers a break. Sure, every job has its less-than-productive workers, and those workers can be a headache for shoppers, but a lot of good people are just trying to make a wage, or put themselves through college.

Retail is ugly, and dealing with holidays could be painful. At the ol' Mart, we'd start receiving Christmas products as early as August. The shelves would often go up a day or two after Halloween, and then there was the working Black Friday thing.

For a deal, people are crazy. And often the holiday spirit seemed lost on shoppers — it was always about the deal, the deal, the DEAL.

So I hated Christmas for a very long time. Much longer than my time spent in retail. And I started to realize that other than a few items here and there, I don't need a whole lot. Gifts are nice, but only if they are useful.

And my mom, of course, still wants to spoil us within her means, which always makes me feel a bit guilty — I tell her to get me fishing lures, which makes us both feel better.

People, it seems, get greedy when Christmas rolls around. They aren't greedy because they are bad people; I think sometimes the holiday and knowing of potential gifts clouds why we celebrate the season.

My son is getting older now, and he's starting to fall into the Santa/present excitement. His excitement has become my excitement, and now I love Christmas again. Funny how that works.

And since my first outing on the ice usually doesn't come until after Christmas with my brother-in-laws, I'll just enjoy his anxiety as he counts down the days until Christmas.

"Is it Christmas yet, Daddy?"
"No, Ty, 11 more days."

Holding up six fingers, "This many, Daddy?"
"Close, Ty, close."

Merry Christmas!