Kvetching My Way Through

Oy.

I’m not Hebrew, but I have Hebrew moments. Searching for Christmas decorations this year has definitely brought on a Yiddish overload.

How did someone who is so anti-Christmas end up with the responsibility of picking out the Christmas decorations?



Is it because I married someone equally as un-Christmas as myself? Who won’t touch a tree topper let alone follow-up on the request to shop for one?

“I forgot.”



Is it because I have a child who happened on the one post I’ve written explaining my hatred for the holiday, who then proceeded to give me her best rendition of Ricky Shroder in The Champ?

“Tell me you’re joking, Ma! No, Ma! Say it ain’t so, Ma! Wake up, Ma! You gotta wake up now, Ma!”



Or is it because I have a mother who’s just as bad as that same child?



Who traveled with me to Tar-Jay to make sure I had coordinating decorations to match my ornaments?

MY. ORN-A-MENTS.



Somewhere, in someone’s world, I have offended them and this is payback. Has. To. Be.