The Writing Mamas Daily Blog
Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.
And for that, you are a goddess.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Passing the Cheer
So I’m sitting here in Starbucks trying to come up with a holiday-themed blog and I just noticed that an inspirational message on my coffee cup is advising me to pay the toll for the car behind me the next time I find myself in a position to “Pass the Cheer.”
In theory, I suppose this is sort of a nice idea, but I wonder what it says about me that I immediately find myself wondering ― let’s say I do in fact carry out this mission the next time I cross the Golden Gate Bridge ― that I might wind up wasting my holiday cheer on an asshole.
What if the person behind me just cut off three people on her way to the toll booth? Or suppose I see a Hummer in my rear-view mirror ― surely I shouldn’t allow my five bucks to support the wanton squandering of fossil fuels.
My cynicism seems like a sure sign that I am not yet in the holiday spirit. Or maybe I’m just adverse to manufactured “cheer.” The Starbucks cups, the piles of Pottery Barn and Dean & Deluca catalogs in my mailbox, the television ads depicting Christmas scenes where there’s always a delicate snow falling, a roaring fire and an entire family decked out in wooly sweaters can get kind of annoying.
But this doesn’t mean that I’m a Grinch. I do love it when my daughter sings “Deck the Halls” at the top of her lungs as we walk home from preschool. We take the longer way, down 4th Street in San Rafael, so we can stop at the big tree in the plaza and check out all the lights.
We talk about our upcoming trip to see Grandma and “Pap Pap” in Pittsburgh and the possibility that it might snow. When we get home, we watch A Charlie Brown Christmas ― her latest obsession ― while I boil water for pasta.
And every time Linus steps up on stage to explain the true meaning of Christmas, I’m a little girl again, curled up on our old striped sofa next to my brother, me in my flannel night gown and he in his red sleeper pajamas, my dad popping popcorn for us in the kitchen. Christmas was pretty great back then, and experiencing it through my three-year-old’s eyes, it’s pretty great all over again.
Still, I can’t help smiling at Lucy’s classic line ― “Everybody knows Christmas is a big commercial racket Charlie Brown. It’s run by a big Eastern syndicate.”
Or perhaps a Seattle syndicate. A little cynicism is healthy.
By Shannon Matus-Takaoka
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In theory, I suppose this is sort of a nice idea, but I wonder what it says about me that I immediately find myself wondering ― let’s say I do in fact carry out this mission the next time I cross the Golden Gate Bridge ― that I might wind up wasting my holiday cheer on an asshole.
What if the person behind me just cut off three people on her way to the toll booth? Or suppose I see a Hummer in my rear-view mirror ― surely I shouldn’t allow my five bucks to support the wanton squandering of fossil fuels.
My cynicism seems like a sure sign that I am not yet in the holiday spirit. Or maybe I’m just adverse to manufactured “cheer.” The Starbucks cups, the piles of Pottery Barn and Dean & Deluca catalogs in my mailbox, the television ads depicting Christmas scenes where there’s always a delicate snow falling, a roaring fire and an entire family decked out in wooly sweaters can get kind of annoying.
But this doesn’t mean that I’m a Grinch. I do love it when my daughter sings “Deck the Halls” at the top of her lungs as we walk home from preschool. We take the longer way, down 4th Street in San Rafael, so we can stop at the big tree in the plaza and check out all the lights.
We talk about our upcoming trip to see Grandma and “Pap Pap” in Pittsburgh and the possibility that it might snow. When we get home, we watch A Charlie Brown Christmas ― her latest obsession ― while I boil water for pasta.
And every time Linus steps up on stage to explain the true meaning of Christmas, I’m a little girl again, curled up on our old striped sofa next to my brother, me in my flannel night gown and he in his red sleeper pajamas, my dad popping popcorn for us in the kitchen. Christmas was pretty great back then, and experiencing it through my three-year-old’s eyes, it’s pretty great all over again.
Still, I can’t help smiling at Lucy’s classic line ― “Everybody knows Christmas is a big commercial racket Charlie Brown. It’s run by a big Eastern syndicate.”
Or perhaps a Seattle syndicate. A little cynicism is healthy.
By Shannon Matus-Takaoka
Labels: Shannon Matus-Takaoka
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