Christmas for me is about stress. Ever since I reached the age where I began purchasing gifts for friends and family. I always want to find that perfect present. I really look for personal gifts. Finding something that I know a person would enjoy is always a goal. Often there will be something that is a joke or memory attached, or something they really need.
One year I found a rare Care Bear on Ebay that my Aunt collects. Another year I did and Etsy Christmas were all my gifts were handmade and I made my own cards and wrapping paper. That was obviously before we had kids and I still had time and money to burn.
For the last few years Christmas has been a mad scramble. I am usually optimistic when I start the shopping list and budget in early November. But by the first week in December I am a mess. I am almost always over budge (four years and counting) and can never find time to get caught up with everything that needs done.
The wrapping piles up until the last hours before Christmas. This year everything is down in the basement as that’s the only place we can regulate the kids’ access. And every night I plan to go down and get a little bit done, but some other immediate need comes up and it continues to be pushed off.
Then there are the last minute, “oh shit” people that I forget to buy for. This year it was the boys’ teachers. Last year it was the husband’s boss. So some last minute shopping trip(s) is inevitable. Again sucking up time and ruining my carefully planned budget even more.
I know, my whining has nothing to do with kink. But it has a lot to do with sex. As in, we don’t have any. I haven’t done a factual study, but I’d wager that December is easily my sexless month. Jack’s recent visit aside, obviously (that is not, though hopefully will be standard). I am just too stressed out. I hardly sleep. Getting to bed late and up early doesn’t give us many sexy opportunities.
There is also the influx of extended family time. This year they are coming to our house. Which, while it does mean we get to sleep in our own bed, does mean that quietness is paramount. When we travel I always feel a little weird having sex in someone else’s house. A hotel is fine, but I never know how squeaky someone’s guest bed is, or, how thin the walls are.
So we usually spend the weekend drinking, getting horny, and then going to bed frustrated. Or we’ll stay up chatting with family or fighting with the kids to stay in bed until we pass out. Either way, I guess I should only speak for me, but I’m a grumpy mess by the time everyone leaves. Making sure that everyone else is having a good time and getting everything they need is exhausting. And as I only get Monday off this year since Christmas falls on a Sunday, I’ll be heading back to work on Tuesday. My poor co-workers.
**To spite this post I grabbed the Doxy and had a marvelous orgasm last night. To spite me right back, as soon as I put the Doxy away I remembered I don’t have a dinner planned for tonight.**