Holiday funk

I'm officially sick of Christmas.  Admittedly, as an adult, the holiday spirit has always tended to elude me, but this year I really, really tried to find some festive for my son's sake.  We decorated the house, we (as in Alex and me) made homemade cards, we made goodies and sat on Santa's lap.  But already I can't wait to take down the tree, I've stopped plugging in the inflatable snowman that lays deflated and sad on our lawn, and I couldn't even make it through the Charlie Brown Christmas Special this year.

We missed the one and only holiday party we planned to attend last night because John was sick.  I was so disappointed about it (and the fact that I'd canceled plans that I'd been really excited about just to go to the stupid party) and still can't seem to cheer up today.

I don't know why I'm in such a funk.  Could it be the dreary weather?  The fact that I'm stuck indoors with a wild animal (Alex) all day long?  Is it because I'm disappointed that John and I aren't exchanging gifts with each other this year? Is it the pregnancy?  Is it because my underwear are too tight?

I think I just need a break.  I need to get away from the snow and the kid and the husband and the goddamned cat and all the stupid Santa's and recharge.  Unfortunately, that opportunity doesn't seem to be available to me.  In the mean time, I fear I'll just get grinchier and grinchier until not even a Reese's Peanut butter Tree can cheer me up.