Xmas is known as a time of loving, giving, family bonding, and hearty eating, but for me it’s a time to catch the crazy.  Once again my boyfriend had won at holiday lottery, and we were to spend Xmas day at his family’s home in Connecticut.  We caught the late night train from NYC, laden with bags of gifts.  Walking into his mothers’ home we were dazzled with the sweetest little Xmas tree.  It was short, fat and brightly lit with white lights, and a sea of presents swam around its hem.  The smell of pine needles hung in the air, and I was transported to the beautiful world of Xmas.  I hail from a mixed family, my father a white Jew from Pennsylvania, and my mother a black Catholic from Ghana.  Living under the roof of two religions produced a battle between Hanukkah and Xmas that would result in my being showered with an excessive number of gifts.  My boyfriend comes from a large Irish family, where a tree, a stocking and one gift are customary.  This was our very first Xmas together, and I was emotionally taxed at the thought of making sure everyone loved their presents.  My boyfriend and I had mentioned that we should only get one gift since we were planning on taking several trips during the New Year.  This was a difficult rule to follow since my natural instinct is to give when I’m in love. 
          We crawled into bed early Xmas morning, and I was giddy with excitement.  I gain a natural high from gift giving, so the act of tearing open presents is akin to Godzilla storming Tokyo.  I awoke at noon, and heard voices stirring below.  The stairs creaked, and a knock resounded through the bedroom.   My boyfriends’ visibly hung over brother popped his head in, “Morning love birds.  Breakfast in 20, presents in 25.”  I beamed from ear to ear, releasing a wave of toxic morning breath.  After cleaning up, we made our way to the festivities, where we were greeted with spicy bloody Mary’s and ushered toward the breakfast table.  To my joy it was laden with eggs, sausage, and cinnamon sticky buns.  I couldn’t think of a better way to erase my Thanksgiving Tofurkey nightmares.  After filling our bellies, the kids couldn’t contain themselves.  “Okay, okay” coaxed my boyfriends’ mother, “you can open your presents.”  It was off to the races.  Adults bolted from the table in a mad scurry to beat each other to the tree, and you got a little taste of sibling rivalry.  I attempted to move daintily toward the scuffle, even though I was light headed and it took every ounce of control not to scream.  Sitting next to my man, I began passing out gifts with a strained smile and that dreamy look you get in your eyes that says I hope you like it.  Inside though, my competitive ego squealed, I know you’re going to love it, and I’m going to be the best gift giver ever!           

As I opened my gifts from his family, I was stung with emotion at how thoughtful and wonderful they were.  I felt truly welcome here.  I handed my boyfriend a pile of gifts, and was so excited to watch his face as he opened them.  First a new back pack, that I had spent a week tracking down; two belts; surf lessons in Puerto Rico; an evening sail on a Catamaran; and lastly a video I pod nano that I had filled with an assortment of cool new songs.  I felt like the rock star of gift givers.  He picked up a card and handed it to me.  Although it was just a card, my boyfriend had taught me on my birthday to reserve judgment (He took me to Hawaii).  I was so excited to see what Xmas had in store that I shredded the envelope.  Inside were two show tickets.  One was a tango show, and since we had taken up dance lessons, it was an appropriate choice.  The other was for a play I had not heard of, and he had picked an evening in which I had already scheduled a She Caught the Crazy Seminar!  How fitting considering I was about to do just that.  My smile slowly faded, and the crazy, sarcastic thoughts began circling through my mind. Theatre tickets for Xmas?  I buy theatre tickets every other week for date night, and he thought this was going to wow me?  I spent weeks considering what to get him, and he spent a few minutes.  Don’t I feel valued!  Remembering that I was being watched, I looked him square in the face and with all the kindness I could muster, I muttered “Thank you honey.  I love it.”  I am a poor liar, but I didn’t want to catch the crazy in front of his family.
All the excitement and the eventual let down had made me exhausted, so I went upstairs to lie down.  My boyfriend followed, sensing the tension that had built between us.  Attempting to make a connection, he smacked my bum playfully.  I threw him a dirty look that said now is not the time, but that just spurred him on.  He smacked my bum again, and all the crazy that I had been attempting to control came rushing to the surface.  My face contorted into rage and I began furiously smacking his bum.  This escalated into a full scale bum smacking war; two adults scrambling to get at the others ripe rump.  It suddenly dawned on me, that I had completely caught the crazy, and instead of communicating how I felt, I was releasing it in this childish physical manner.
“Stop”
We stared at each other in silence as the vulnerability and hurt spread across my face.
“I need a hug”
He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me and I laid my head on his shoulder.  My voice filled with emotion.
“I guess you noticed I was a little upset with my gift.  I put thought and love into getting yours and I guess I just expected the same from you.” 
He kissed my forehead. “I tried to get you something else.  It was sold out, and I only had time yesterday to get presents.  I thought we had agreed to only get one gift, so that is what I did.  If I had known what this meant to you, I would have done more.  I’m sorry.” 
I felt a wave of relief.  I had caught the crazy because of unfulfilled expectations, but now my relationship had the opportunity to grow.  I realized that my overt goal was to make him happy, but my covert goal was to be accepted.  He asked me to share this very personal family holiday with him, and that was more than acceptance.  That was loving me just the way I am.