It's that time of year again when Christmas music takes over the radio and ABC Family runs Santa Claus movies 10 times a day. But surprise, not everyone celebrates Christmas. So instead of lighting up the house, they light up the Menorah. Instead of cookies, they eat potato pancakes and applesauce. The experience of celebrating Hanukkah might not be as big and exciting as that of Christmas, but Jewish people still have traditions and processes of celebrating this overlooked winter holiday.

Stage One: The Extreme Excitement Stage

Break out the dreidels and the applesauce because Hanukkah is coming!

My house has had the same decorations since as long as I can remember. We Jews can't just go to the store in early October and get adorable little ornaments and tinsel to make it look like Christmas threw up in our living room. We get an end cap with wrapping paper. So when you find any sort of house décor in some Target somewhere, you're so excited and you buy it and use it forever, probably passing it on to your children for when they decorate their own house.

Stage Two: The Rushed Panic Stage

Wait, Hanukkah's when?! Welp, I guess my family isn't getting any gifts this year.

Whereas Christmas is always the same date every year, Hanukkah falls on the 25th day of the Jewish month Kislev, which means I would never know when Hanukkah actually started if it weren't for my Snapchat geotag. So my parents don't usually get a gift from us kids. Their only gift is the few minutes of silence after dinner since all us kids are usually in comatose from all the jelly donuts and gelt. Not to mention the mad rush to shred the dozens of potatoes for mom's famous latkes, just praying your finger stays intact because tonight's the first night.

Stage Three: 'Twas The Day Before the Hanukkah Stage

Everyone has seen my geotagged story on Snapchat with a clever pun about sh*t being lit, so they're aware that tonight is the first night. For me that means having to walk everyone through the short version of the story of Hanukkah and how the ability of oil to stay ignited for eight days and nights is much more impressive than a fat guy squeezing himself down a chimney. And no, we don't sing holiday songs in preparation because you already know every word of Adam Sandler's "The Chanukah Song" and there's no such thing as spreading Hanukkah cheer by singing loud for all to hear. Nor do I own an ugly sweater to wear, unless you count the one of Santa wearing a Yamaka which everyone just thinks is the hairnet he wears under his hat.

Stage Four: The Watch Yourself Stage

I may or may not have had one or five too many latkes at dinner. But you have to keep yourself together because any slip up of behavior could result in your present being revoked for the night, even if it is fuzzy pajama pants. That includes not fist fighting over who gets to light the pooh menorah instead of getting stuck with the plain metal one. I really have to hold myself back when it comes to who gets to light everyone's Shamash, because it's obviously my job since I'm the oldest.

Stage Five: The "Shoot Your Eye Out" Stage

It's been five days already and you're getting sick of singing the same prayers again and again. Not to mention every one at school always says how lucky you are, getting presents every night for seven days! Or is it nine? They can never remember. But don't you worry, they always remember the dreidel song, the one you haven't actually sang since hebrew school in the first grade. So you always remind them that it's actually eight nights and you only get one gift a night, unlike the plethora of wrapped boxes and stockings they get to tear apart Christmas Eve and morning.

Stage Six: The Eighth, Crazy Night

As nice as it was having home cooked family dinners for the past week, you're ready to put away the candles and sit down and watch "Elf" on 25 Days of Christmas because you've seen "Eight Crazy Nights" at least three times this week. Plus that one time the 10 Commandments was on because someone on cable got their Jewish holidays mixed up. The empty present your mom had set out for Hanukkah Harry has retired to it's spot in the closet, much like the cookies and milk left for Santa because Jewish mothers don't want their kids to feel left out in kindergarten.

Now that Hanukkah is over, time to get ready for Chinese food and going to the movies on December 25 while all of you non-Jews are stuck with carolers and awkward family dinners. So until next year, Harry. Goodnight to all and to all a good night.