Nobody puts baillee in the corner

I’ve only been home for one of the past seven Christmases. As most of you know, working in the service industry often times doesn’t allow for a lot of time off at the holidays, if it allows for any at all. Sure, there are one or two others in there where I could take a day trip or something in December, but I’ve only been a cameo in my family’s celebrations at Christmas proper.

I love the holidays, and although Halloween will forever reign supreme, I definitely don’t take Christmas lightly. The strange thing is, I’m almost always alone. I’m definitely not here to complain about my life because even with some of the stressors I have, I’m still extremely fortunate. I have a roof over my head, a good job, two sweet and scruffy pups, friends, family, the works. Blame it on this being the last Christmas of my 20s or all the romantic holiday sleaze I’ve been binging, but I’m feeling insanely sentimental and, quite frankly, a little blue this week.

Did I choose to plant my roots in Austin, away from some of my loved ones? Yes, and I don’t regret that. In fact, I don’t think I would be the person I am today if I hadn’t done so. I’ve grown so, so much, even just in the past couple of years. I fear I would have settled things I shouldn’t have if I stayed, but I didn’t, and I haven’t, and that’s the important part, but I digress.

This year, KP was supposed to have been in Austin for Christmas for the first time in six years. I was giddy and relieved and excited. I planned an entire menu for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I had gotten treats for her little chunk of a dog, Shilo’s, stocking. I was even going to wait to watch the Dragula finale with her tonight (which is big for me because I watch the new episodes as soon as I’m up on Tuesday mornings). However, due to an absolutely infuriating breech in protocol, she was exposed to COVID. She was wearing a mask while she interacted with this person, but she was still directly exposed, so she has to have two negative COVID tests and quarantine until January 4. For those who don’t know, she’s also extremely immunocompromised because she’s in chemo, so needless to say, my sister beat me to the angry phone call.

I know that I should be used to being alone on Christmas (not in an “I walk the path of a lonely creative” sense, but in the “I worked in the service industry forever, so I didn’t get to go home for a while” sense), but this year, I just really needed and wanted my mom. I wanted to be able to sit on the couch with her while we ate some of her famous fudge and watched A Christmas Story. I wanted to hear the sounds of TikTok or Bailey Sarian videos from the living room while I did things around my house. I wanted to open presents with her on Christmas morning. I just really, really wanted and needed her here.

There are times in your adult life you just need that comfort and reassurance from the person who has seen you at your best and worst and loved you unconditionally through it. I do so many things on my own, and I have for so long that I just needed a little help and guidance and patience from the woman who entered many a Hot Topic during my middle and high school years and understands me better than anyone on this earth.

Again, I’m glad I chose to move here and love my life, but sometimes, being so independent is challenging, and it’s nice to have your mom there to lend a hand with the dogs or help wash the dishes or, you know, take you to urgent care when your eardrum spontaneously ruptures (which amazingly did happen when she was here). Sometimes, you just need your mom, and I’m not embarrassed to say it.

The holidays as an adult can still be magical, but it’s very different type of magical. It’s upholding those traditions your mom (or parent or guardian or loved ones) established for you as a kid and looking at Christmas lights and doing good deeds. It’s also a lot more stressful than as a kid because of holiday parties and presents and cooking and other silly things that we put way too much value on. At the ripe old age of 29, I can tell you that all I truly wanted for Christmas this year was to be able to spend it with my mom, and that was selfishly taken from me.

I’m still planning to deck my halls, distract myself with cooking, and plow through my Christmas movie watchlist. I’ll still watch A Christmas Story on Christmas Eve (along with the PPG and Spongebob holiday specials). I’ll keep my trees lit all weekend. I’ve already watched the Dragula finale. But I’m less holly and jolly than I was on Sunday. I’m not as merry. I’m not as eager for Christmas morning. And that’s okay.

The holidays aren’t happy for everyone. There are a lot of bad emotions associated with this time of the year, and that’s okay too. There isn’t a correct way to celebrate nor is there an obligation to celebrate. You’re allowed to order takeout if you want. You’re allowed to refrain from posting on social media if you would rather not. You’re even allowed to have very mixed feelings about this time of year.

If you don’t want to give gifts, donate to your local animal shelter. Find ways to donate to the homeless community. Volunteer (within COVID regulations) if you can. You’re allowed to create new traditions and celebrations (as long as you aren’t hurting yourself or others). You don’t just have to watch Christmas movies or listen to Christmas music (unless it’s “Last Christmas by Wham!). You don’t have to cook all day (unless you’re like me, and it’s a good stress reliever). You don’t have to be Norman Rockwell-esque.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to be sad on Christmas. But that’s okay. I hate to seem so dramatic, but it’s like the Kacey Musgraves song “Christmas Makes Me Cry.”

The holidays are just a little harder as an adult. Will I always have my childlike sense of wonder? Yes, and I ordered a Disney mini backpack blind box earlier to prove it. Will I still write my annual letter to the Spirit of Christmas? Yes, and you can tease me endlessly. Will I still get my dogs presents? Yes, and they’re already nestled in their stockings. However, that doesn’t mean this time of year still won’t make me sad sometimes, especially when my mom can’t come.