That helps to sum up the chaos that ensued as the clock struck 12 a.m. on December 1. Every year. That is the chaos that came along with having my birthday eight days before Christmas. And I guess everyone who has a birthday over the holidays might feel the same way.
Each year, my mom would set out on Mission Impossible: Gift Version. She would collect my list, do the shopping (online of course), and wait for the packages to arrive.
Then the real fun began. She would have to pick out at least two different wrapping papers (one birthday themed and one Christmas) because, goodness knows, she couldn’t use the same paper for both occasions.
Then the logistics of distributing the gifts got involved. My mom would have to pick which gifts I was going to receive when and then wrap them accordingly. She always had to make sure I had the same amount of presents on both days, so as to make sure I didn’t feel one day was more acknowledged than the other.
While the havoc of a near-Christmas birthday was plaguing my poor mother’s existence in December, I was content reading or playing in the snow, never knowing what went on behind closed doors. I never cared what paper my presents were wrapped in. They could have been wrapped in newspaper or not wrapped at all. I never even enjoyed unwrapping presents. I certainly didn’t care how many gifts I received when I would have been happy with whatever I got. To me, Christmas and my birthday have never been about getting “stuff.”
I have never felt a down-side to having my birthday so close to Christmas, but my family, especially my mom, may disagree with me.
By: Sarah Schaeffer