Christmas isn’t really a holiday

Christmas.  Easter.  Good Friday.  Thanksgiving.  Times of relaxation, vacations from school, work and the stresses of life.  Not for those who work behind the scenes at churches!  Pastors have it rough, but really all their work takes place before the holiday comes.  The Scriptures are picked and the sermon is written.  All they have to do is stand up and recite.  Granted, they still have to stay awake through all the services we put them through, but its not all that difficult.  Church musicians, on the other hand, are a bit more busy, a tad more stressed and way more likely to lose their patience.  Mix in familia relations, and you get what some might call a comedy, but I hate most about the holidays.

Each Christmas, my father arranges the hymns for the service to include brass and whoever else might be willing to play.  He also composes a postlude using other hymns we did not sing.  We try to have a rehearsal the night before Christmas Eve, but not everyone is able to be there.  As many are able come.  He spends the whole day locked up in his bedroom writing out these parts.  At the rehearsal, my mother is conducting, and I’m sitting in the "orchestra" muttering under my breath.  I’m sure to those not in our little family, we are hysterical.  Something akin to Faulty Towers, minus the foriegn bellhop.  But to the three of us, it is a moment away from WW III.  And that’s only the rehearsal the night before.  We still have a full rehearsal the next night, along with handbells and choir before playing two services.  By the time the services end (after midnight), I don’t know whether to just pass out in bed, crawl into a wine bottle, scream, cry or do everything at once.

This year had the added bonus of both of my grandmothers being here.  My maternal grandmother is fine, though a little clueless, forgetfull and naive.  She doens’t bother me too much as long as there are other people around.  My paternal grandmother is ornery, old-fashioned, stubborn, small-minded, close-minded, inconsiderate and just plain rude at times.  My mother had re-done our upstairs bathroom.  I had not seen the finished product, so when my grandmother went to inspect the progress, I went with her.  There were a few things still not completely finished – ie, the painting was not done and there was no mirror.  She complained ot me about that, not knowing how you could have a bathroom with such a horrible paint job or no mirror.  Then she said the lights were too bright, and then it was something else.  This wouldn’t have been so bad, but she kept asking me why things weren’t done the way she thought they should be!  Me, who wasn’t home when this was done, who had nothing to do with its construction or completion.  Didn’t matter – it was still all my fault. If she doesn’t like some kind of food, then that food is horrible and no one should like it.  That’s merely a small taste of what life with her is like.  She is just grating.

So dealing with my now-ex-roommate all weekend (and wanting to strangle her), then coming home to my grandmother (and wanting to strangle her), then having rehearsal with my mother (and wanting to strangle her) with the music my father wrote (and wanting to strangle him)….  I just want to strangle myself!  Christmas Eve I played piano for one service at another church in town before racing back to my house to pick up my mother.  We went to her church for rehearsal and the two services.  At those services, I played oboe, English horn, timpani, handbells, and sang a duet – running back and forth around the balcony to accomplish it all.  Afterwards, we went to the pastor’s house for some wine and destressing.  But really, all I wanted to do was get away from my parents.  I got to bed somewhere around 2 am.

Christmas Day was a lot better, although it still had its moments.  There are no church services, so our family can relax and just enjoy the day.  But it felt to me that we never really relaxed.  We opened some stockings, then the phone would ring.  Then Mom wanted food and Grandma insisted on helping, which meant Nana (my other grandmother) would wander into the kitchen as well.  Once the phone got hung up, it was like pulling teeth to get everyone back into the living room.  We finished stockings, then Mom wanted to take a shower.  Nana tried to call her son, but couldn’t figure out her cell phone and was berated by my grandma.  We started opening presents, but something else happened.  A story was told, then the phone rang again, then Dad went to cut more wood and Mom went to snap the beans.  We opened a few more presents before the phone would ring again and Dad’s pager went off (he’s a volunteer fire fighter on call for Christmas Day) and Mom started doing dishes.  And back and forth and up and down.  It never felt like we could just sit, open presents and enjoy the fire and company before something would interrupt us.  We didn’t start opening presents until nearly 1pm, had dinner around 8pm, and the last present was finally opened around quarter to ten.

Now I’m all for relaxing and enjoying the day.  Opening presents slowly, one at a time, to see what everyone got.  Besides I want to see their faces as the open the present I picked out for them.  For me, that is part of the Christmas fun.  But it felt like we barely had time to open a present before something interrupted us, and took someone from the living room.  Then we had to wait until that person returned and everyone came back to their seats.  It just became very tiring and stressful.

On top of that – I was diagnosed with sciatica on Monday and spent a good portion of today in pain.  I took my drugs, but I don’t think the nurse gave me enough to really get rid of the pain.  It only dulls the edge.  My leg was radiating with pain while my grandmother is yelling at me for not helping my mother, who actually understands why I’m writhing on the couch.  But I have to keep a smile on my face and refrain from biting her head off.

I’m just extremely tired of keeping things on the inside.  A lot of things slipped out on Christmas Eve and I had to remind myself to keep the comments in my head, not outside.  I want to be around people who let me be me, inside of this censored, controlled, reigned-in version of myself.  Tomorrow I get to go play football with Manny and a whole bunch of other old friends.  Except I won’t be able to actually play because of my hip.  But I’ll still cheer them on.  I just need to be around them instead of Grandma.

This Christmas really wasn’t horrendous, but I just need to get most of that out.  Cause tomorrow morning, before I get out of here, everything must stay on the inside!