Twas the night before Christmas...

It's actually Christmas Eve morning, but you get the jist.

I think everyone knows the first line of this poem from the early 19th century.

It's actual title is A Visit from St. Nicholas, originally published anonymously in 1823.

That's 200 hundred years ago!

Various versions and interpretations of the poem have made their way into the popular culture, and some have even built upon it, like the story (and movie), The Polar Express.

For some reason, I have (yet again) found myself in the Scrooge camp this holiday season.

I've tried singing holiday songs, purchased presents, gave time and treasure to helping others less fortunate.

It's not working.

I've watched Christmas movies and tv shows--who doesn't love a Charlie Brown Christmas. I mean if Linus can't get you in the spirit...no one can. I've made cookies--ok, they are chocolate chip, but that is really the only good cookie I can make.

I even rode my bike with 50 other people and Santa around town!

Call it the menopausal blues, or just that the boys are older and driving me crazy with their laying around all day long playing video games, but the excitement of the season is escaping me again.

I don't like this. Not one bit.

I'm a kid at heart (and sometimes in public), but we have officially entered the stage of life where it is no longer cool to be seen with mom.

I take that back. J still thinks it cool, but he is also not the typical teenager (thank you Autism).

B turned 16 two weeks ago, and it shows. Except that he doesn't seem excited about getting his driver's license.

Anyway, he is moody, cranky, tired, uninspired, and just plain lazy--in my opinion.

B is ready for our annual bike ride with Santa!

Yes, he is active, participating in band and fencing club at school. Other extrcurricular activities include karate and scouting. He's a busy kid...part of the reason I'd like him to get his driver's license.

He's a straight A student, and overall a great kid.

But I can tell even he isn't excited this year.

Is it the lack of snow? The dark mornings when we wake up, and dark afternoons? It's been a little colder that I remember this December. But as usual, whenever a storm decides to head our way, it come from the south, which means the cold is pushed out of the way, and the warm rain appears.

Our chances of a white Christmas are non-existent.

But, back to the poem...as you may recall, the narrator is startled from his slumber by "a clatter" on the lawn.

Honestly, if someone woke me up in the middle of the night...I don't think I'd be happy. Then again, I would just love to sleep through the night at this point.

In the Polar Express, the boy receives the first gift of Christmas. A bell from the reindeer's harness. At the end of the movie he says that the bell still rings for him, and for all those who believe.

I do believe in the spirit of Christmas. But it seems harder and harder every year.

Why? What has happened to make us so cynical?

In 1946, It's A Wonderful Life was released. World War II had just ended, but the original story was written in 1943. It's a variation of Dickens A Christmas Carol, where we see what would happen to the world if George decided to not be a part of it.

It's kinda like today--not a nice world to be a part of.

Luckily, nice guys, like George, decide to keep fighting the good fight and stick around.

And an angel gets its wings.

Anyway, I've been thinking about why it is harder and harder to be happy, especially during this "happy time".

Is it the bombardment of negative news being aired 24/7? Even the news that is uplifting still has a slightly negative slant. Something bad had to happen in order for the good stuff.

And you know what (ephipany!), that is the Christmas story. Bad things were happening in Israel 2000+ years ago. Mary and Joseph had to get to Bethleham for the census.

And there was no room at the inn.

But luckily, the innkeeper let them stay in the stable.

And a miracle came to life. So maybe it is all about perspective.

Always look on the bright side of life. (Sorry...we saw Spamalot last week, and well...it works).

It is Christmas Eve. I'm hoping to convince my family to attend a Christmas Eve service, somewhere. And if not, maybe I just go by myself.

D has taken the boys out to buy himself some winter boots, and I have the house to myself, which is absolutely delightful.

However, I do have stuff I need to do. A couple last minute gifts need to be wrapped. I need to run to the grocery store for a couple things, as well as get some wine for Christmas dinner tomorrow.

We will head over to my brother-in-law's place. That should be a good time.

But now...I think I will do something for myself.

I'm going to go to the gym and get my workout in.

I'm going to get some Christmas Spirit somehow, someway. And breaking a sweat seems like a good place to start.

From the Museum Geek Triathlete to all of you, have a very Merry Christmas, a Happy Hanukkah, a peaceful Kwanzaa and a fruitful airing of the Grievances for Festivus.

And a Happy New Year!