It is every single parents concern over the holidays.
Who will get the kid? Who will he stay with? How long will he be with me? Is this my Christmas to get him?
The year was 2009, and it was going to be my first Christmas without Sam. He was going to be with his dad for Christmas eve, Christmas day and the day after. Since my entire family lived in Wisconsin, and I was living in Texas, it meant that this would be my first solo Christmas.
The idea of spending Christmas alone is something that is made for Lifetime movies. I imagined my part being played by Melissa Gilbert, and my son is that kid that sees dead people. The mother is shown basting a turkey with flour on her face and a Christmas apron. The next scene goes to a table set for one with a single candle and a glass of wine. She sits at the table with her festive spread and takes a sip of the wine, glancing over at her Charlie Brown Christmas tree and imagines her son being surrounded by family and loud laughter.
Well, this is how it really happened.
I, at first, felt sorry for myself regarding the single Christmas. My parents asked me what I was doing for the holidays and I would say with a long sigh..."Nothing, hanging out by myself. Sam is going to be with his dad." After I had my pity party for a couple of days, I decided that hanging out by myself for Christmas might be kind of fun. I could either wallow in my festive misery or I could enjoy it and make it a great night. I went to the grocery store about four days before Christmas...children clinging to their parents hands, skipping alongside the shopping carts with visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads. I pushed my cart slowly through the aisles, taking in the amount of food that was packed into some people's carts. People that would go home to a houseful of guests and loads of gifts under the tree.
I would go home to silence and no child to enjoy Christmas with.
The grocery store was busy and I made my way through the aisles as I created my own festive feast. I had purchased sweet potatoes, a spiral ham, asparagus, apples to make a pie, rolls and four bottles of wine. I don't know if I was planning for the Holiday Apocalypse or what, but if I was going to be alone, I wasn't about to go about it sober.
Standing in line at the checkout, I thumb through a magazine and look in awe at the holiday photos. Families surrounding large dining room tables with enough food to feed Japan. Little girls running through the snow with dresses and moon boots. Looks of awe and wonder as they shake their gifts so violently that everything inside breaks and they don't want what's inside anyway. Grandma walking over to the table with a turkey while Grandpa holds the carving knife in desperate attack. Little Jimmy playing with the new puppy his parents got him and the big red bow tied around his neck. (the dogs, not little Jimmy's)
Not my Christmas.
I was going to be sipping my wine at the table, having a conversation with my cutlery after bottle of wine number two.
I made my way home and stopped off for cigarettes. At the gas station were vehicles stuffed full of gifts and people that dressed like page 5 of the LL Bean catalog. Some cars had Christmas trees mounted on the top, some cars had couples clutching bottles of wine and full gas tanks as they pulled out to meet their Norman Rockwell Christmas moment.
Not my Christmas
I was going to be driving exactly 2.3 miles to my house and would not open the door to anyone bearing handfuls of gifts and Christmas cookies.
As I walked into the gas station, I stood in line and look in awe at the people in line. They all had somewhere to be, they all had people that were waiting for them. I had created this lifestyle the moment I asked for the divorce. I should have just signed a document that said "with this divorce, I take thee, lonely holidays, to be my next partner." When you leave the courthouse, they assign you a Hungry man turkey and stuffing dinner with a frozen pudding blob for your holiday meal. "this is for you lady, you get one free with every divorce since that is the only holiday tradition you will embrace from this point on." I assume that the bailiff slams it into my stomach with a thud and pats me on the back so hard I stumble forward.
Back at home, I unload my groceries and sit on the patio with a beer. I will begin to prepare for my holiday dinner the next day. I lean back into the bone chilling 59 degree Austin December air and wonder what my kid is doing.
It is also at this moment, that I begin to wonder how many of these Christmas's I will see. Sure, every other year I get to keep Sam for the holidays, but the alternating years would consist of this wonderful single Christmas that I have been introduced to.
How do other single parents do this? I was invited to friend's houses, but I turned them down because I did not want to feel like "the one that was all by herself for Christmas." I did not want to be the one that they talked about in Target, staring at the serving plates going "we need to get Sarah something, she is going to be over for the holidays and she is ...you know...." (said in a whisper) "by herself for the first time this year."
Opening gifts is a very awkward time for someone that is a guest at someone Else's house for the holidays. You never really know where you should sit, if that is a good time to go out for a smoke or disappear and call your family? You do the "obligatory laugh" when grandpa Harold receives the entire collection of buns of steel workout videos for a gift and says "man, I will definitely enjoy these Mary."...and then you remind yourself to block that entire idea of what grandpa Harold will really do with those videos.
No, I was not going to be THAT person. I did not want to be any one's pity party except my own. I wanted to be sure to be the captain of ss.crappychristmas. I imagined clinging to my bag of leftovers and holiday cookies that the family gave me, standing in the doorway staring at me with that sad look head tilt people give you after you get divorced. "come over anytime, Sarah. We enjoyed having your freeloading ass here this Christmas.. Next time when you come, maybe you could bring more than a 10.00 bottle of wine and dip made with processed cheese and stale triscuits, to our party."
Ok, so nobody EVER said that to me, but that is how I felt.
Christmas morning I woke early and headed downstairs. I leaned over and plugged the Christmas tree in, and then marveled at my anorexic tree. If you squinted your eyes and moved your head back in forth in a violent matter, you could actually get a vision of a beautiful FULL Christmas tree. My Christmas tree stood about 6 feet tall and had a star on the top that was too heavy and made the top branch lean to the right ever so slightly. Home made Christmas ornaments from Sam, constructed out of old panty hose eggs, hung from the tree with pride. I would rather have my entire tree draped in these than any Pottery Barn Christmas tree.
I walked over to the coffee maker which had magically made coffee for me already, and went to sit on the patio in my bathrobe. I perched my feet on my chair as I sat and looked out at the traffic that went by.
Christmas by myself.
Single Christmas
wow, I never thought I would be chillin on my own for the holidays.
I turned on the TV and had a Christmas story marathon playing in the background. I took inventory of all my Christmas meal fixin's and cuddled into the couch and watched the movie. About 2pm I admired the ass print on my couch and began to make my dinner.
There is something that is very fulfilling about making dinner for yourself and sitting down to an amazing meal. I turned the TV off, put some Christmas music on, poured myself my fourth glass of wine and sat down to my dinner.
As I sat at the table, I looked out the window and began to appreciate what I had instead of wallowing in what I DIDN'T have. A great house, food on the table, and an amazing child, that even though was not with me, was the best gift I could have asked for.
