Mr. JB grew up in a family that was very small, but still very close. He adored his grandparents, King and Queen JB, and his own parents, the Duke and Dowager JB. His grandparents were a little more, let’s say “celebratory” than the Duke and Dowager, and one of their favourite things to do on Christmas morning was to get up and watch Mr. JB (only child, only grandchild) open his Christmas presents while wearing their PJ’s and robes and slippers, and sipping mimosas.
Champagne and orange juice before 7 AM. I’m sorry that I didn’t know the King and Queen very well before they passed away, but I think we would have had a grand time together. Mr. JB still loves to get up on Christmas morning, watch the kids open their presents and relax in his armchair with his feet up and a pitcher of mimosas at hand. For him, it’s like his grandparents are still with him. And they are.
The rest of the grown-ups will have a SMALL glass of mimosa, but I confess that champagne makes me giddy and lightheaded at the best of times, never mind at 630 on a Christmas morning! Mr. JB, who is of Scottish ancestry, cannot bear the thought of a WHOLE PITCHER of mimosas going to waste, so he drinks it!
Aaaaand then he needs a nap.
This drives Mr. JB’s mother completely nuts. She can’t believe I “let” Mr. JB do that, and on Christmas morning, to boot! And inside that is a kernel of some interesting truth. Mr. JB’s mother, a longtime wife and mother, considers it her wifely duty to keep the Duke on the straight and narrow, which is of course, whatever she defines it to be. She has a full arsenal of feminine wiles that she will use to achieve this goal – tantrums, sulking, the cold shoulder, acting hurt and of course, the sine qua non of feminine wiles: tears. When the Dowager goes off into the other room sniffing and then down into the basement for a proper sob, the Duke completely melts and does whatever she wants. I have come to understand that this is how the Dowager fights. In her mind, those are acceptable acts of aggression. I suspect it has something to do with holding on to her concept of herself as a proper middle class lady.
And I am nothing like that, at all. First of all, I consider Mr. JB a grown-up perfectly capable of understanding what he wants and what will happen if he DOES drink an entire pitcher of mimosas, which he WILL do (as he does every Christmas). I think it’s kind of sweet that he wants to continue the tradition his grandparents cherished so much, even if it means he has to do it alone. Second of all, I think traditional feminine acts of aggression are so much bullshit emotional manipulation, and I prefer a fair fight, head to head, even if it means I lose.
An odd subject for Christmas Eve, and the reason I bring it up is because the holidays can be SUCH an emotionally charged time for even the happiest of families, and I truly think most of that comes from women having some kind of fantasy about what their own personal Christmas story should be, and then reacting with emotional manipulation when things don’t go their way. And ladies, that just isn’t fair.
Did you get the present you wanted? Next year, ask for what you want. He can’t read your mind, sweetheart.
Are you doing all the work on Christmas Day? It’s your fantasy, baby. Really, if you want to do less work on Christmas, stop being so sexist in thinking YOU are the one who gets to define how and what the day is. Men’s concept of Christmas is no doubt, considerably different than women’s, but try to remember that just because you’re a woman doesn’t mean your definition is automatically better. It’s not. If pizza and beer is your man’s idea of a great holiday, and yours is a full turkey dinner with poinsettia on every surface and hand made cookies on every counter, well then, get baking! Or you know, order pizza!
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/dec/17/asda-christmas-ad-gender-stereotypes
Ultimately, Christmas is about family. Whether it’s a religious celebration or a pagan ritual or a secular celebration, coming together to celebrate our families is what the day is all about. In a culture that has decided that families are disposable and that men are particularly useless, Christmas becomes about what you can buy and how you can decorate. Those things don’t matter. Forget about the tinsel and the co-ordinating placemats and the perfect tree-topper. Look around you, at the faces of your family and loved ones.
They are the reason for the season.
For those who have only the memory of their families to cherish, whether they are separated by circumstance or divorce or death, take a page from Mr. JB’s book. Mix a pitcher of mimosas and put your feet up.
As long as you love, you live.
Merry Christmas, everyone.
Lots of love,
JB
judgybitch 
Mrs. Culdesachero and I ironed out the policy on drinking prior to tieing the knot. Responsibility was key – no staying out all night drinking without warning – but, so was my right to enjoy myself without the guilt trip every time I cracked a beer open.
Now that I’m older, I rarely drink at all, so when I do, I need to enjoy every moment and savour every drop. I’m glad we settled the matter early on. It allows us to enjoy eachother’s company with mutual respect, understanding and open communication.
I’ve seen alcohol ruin others’ lives and marriages, but I’ve never seen shaming stop it from ruining someone’s life. Feeling ashamed for responsibly enjoying oneself is damaging to one’s spirit.
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From the words of Abe Lincoln: “It has been my experience that folks with no vices have damned few virtues”
Hear, hear! And merry Christmas. 🙂
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Merry Christmas, Judgy Bitch!
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