"I know we're doing Christmas this year with your mom and family since last year we were with my mom in London for Monkey's first Christmas but what do you think about not celebrating Christmas anymore after this year?"

"Uh....What? I don't want to talk about it."

"Why, though?? It makes no sense. We are not Christians, we don't even believe in God, in fact. And we both despise the consumer aspect of it. Strip that all away and what do you have?"

"DUDE. I am NOT going to talk with you about this right now."

"I don't get it. What are we supposed to tell Monkey it's all about? Little baby Jesus? It's speculated he was born in the summertime anyway. And buying shit just for the purpose of buying shit? We can celebrate a holiday, why don't we just do Solstice. It's about the winter season and family and love and giving, etc. Christmas was just Solstice co-opted by the Christians as an attempt to convert all the Pagans!"

"C, puh-leeze! I told you I'm not going to talk about this!"


"Fine, dude. Night." (I stormed off the bed)

The next morning when I woke Mr. Egg was in the kitchen pouring boiling water into our French press. When he saw me stumble into the living room, sleepy eyed in my robe, he said, "Are you over it yet, grump?". I responded I was only trying to have a conversation with him about an aspect of our family's future and don't understand why he wouldn't have a conversation with me about it. "Because, dude, it's not something you talk about just days before Christmas. It's very un-Christmas-like. It's decidedly Grinch-like. You want to talk about this, fine, but we'll do it after Christmas."

It's not as though I didn't have wonderful childhood memories of Christmas. Every year, the day after Thanksgiving my mother trekked into the attic or basement and pulled out our boxes and boxes of decorations. The stereo pumped out Christmas carols nearly 24/7. We went to midnight Mass (we only went to church on the big holidays, mainly Christmas and Easter, at times Ash Wednesday). The air was filled with the smells of my mother's yearly baking frenzy. We decorated the tree as a family, always one of the biggest trees on the lot that left barely enough room to place the angel without scraping the ceiling. I believed in Santa until I was about 8 and although it was a crushing blow when I discovered the truth I had enjoyed the years of magic and mystery. A part of me will always hold a special place in my heart for the Christmas of my childhood.

But for me now as an adult? Christmas represents so much of what I want to leave behind. And even more I've become increasingly bitter about how pervasive Christmas is, for months beforehand now it winds its way into every aspect of every day and it's unavoidable. I met my friend at the bar the other night for a couple of drinks and as we were in the middle of a discussion about Christmas and how annoyed we are that it's constantly shoved down our throats a group of carolers wound they way through the bar, complete with reindeer ears and Christmas lights wrapped around their bodies, and they were loud and obnoxious and Sprout and I looked at each other and rolled our eyes, like, SEE!! It's the assumption by the majority of Americans that everyone celebrates Christmas. I'm not hating on those who love Christmas and want to celebrate, awesome, do it. But don't push it on me or my family and don't give me those awful looks like I'm depriving my daughter. I was in the market with Monkey the other day and this woman comes up when she witnesses Monkey throwing a tantrum (because I won't let her play with the delicate glasses on the shelf) and leans down to her level and says, "You should be a good girl or Santa won't bring you any presents!". I eyed her in disbelief and said, "We don't do Santa, especially not as a fear tactic". She looked at me like I was the worst mother in the world.

And in a couple of days we're driving down to the Bay Area for the week to spend the holiday with Mr. Egg's family. He has family flying in from as far away as Montreal and it will be the first time in years that his entire immediate family will be together for Christmas. I will bite my tongue and smile and eat the food and drink the alcohol and enjoy watching Monkey play with her cousins and try to keep my political and spiritual ideology to myself. But come next year? And the years after that? We will be celebrating the winter season in a new way.....if I can just get Mr. Egg on board with it :)