I'm not a scrooge, and I certainly don't begrudge anyone their holiday cheer. But I just have a fundamental disconnect with what the holidays have come to be about.

Even as a child, I didn't particularly care for Christmas. It had nothing to do with the fact that I wasn't raised in a Christian household (there was no "religion" in my home at all, though my mother gave me the freedom to go to any church I wanted to). I just found it distasteful that "Christmas" was all about the loot. THE topic of discussion when we got back to school in January would be, "what did you get?"

And it wasn't that I didn't get anything, or I only got crappy gifts, not at all. I got wonderful presents from my mother. But I always knew that she nearly killed herself every year trying to be sure I had a Christmas. That knowledge always cut an edge off of my enjoyment of the season--it didn't diminish my appreciation of the gifts, though. There were just always pangs of guilt that my mom had to work so damn hard so her stupid brat could unwrap presents Christmas morning.

I remember that I wanted so badly to believe in Santa Claus. If for no other reason than it would be great if there really was some benevolent old man who distributed the perfect presents to kids so their parents wouldn't have to work extra hard to get them. But I knew at a very young age that such a kind old man didn't exist.

And I absolutely cringe this time of year when I hear a parent warn their child to be good or "Santa won't bring you any presents!" What the hell kind of sword is that to swing over a little kid's head? Is this the kind of "holiday memory" these parents want their kids to carry through to their adulthood? And who defines "good" anyway? Does "good" mean, don't piss mom and/or dad off or they'll call Santa and tell him to give my gifts to a "better" kid? Or is there some old man watching me 24/7 who knows everything I do? How creepy is that?

In my house, there was also the problem of making sure I reacted with just the right amount of enthusiasm about the gifts. Every reveal had to be a "Kodak Moment". Kind of a difficult pace to keep up when you've gotten up too early and you're starting to crash after an hour or so. I remember a few times when I really love the gift, but I didn't get the reaction quite right. I could sense the "no matter what I do it isn't enough for you" resentment from my mother.

When Christmas becomes nothing but pressure--pressure to give the right gift (and the right number of gifts) and pressure to give the correct reaction--it ceases to be a time of celebration. Which is what I always was told Christmas was: The celebration of the birth of Christ.

So, why do we start with the pressures and expectations in OCTOBER? When did it become all about gimme, gimme, gimme?

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OK, so I guess I'm not completely doing away with the holidays this year. After all, the furkids will get a visit from "Sandy Paws" just because they're good kitties and they're about due for some new toys and treats.