Growing up, Christmas was always a BIG DEAL in my family. And when I say BIG DEAL I mean that it was a fixture in our household. That my mother was so smitten with the holiday that she would only give up listening to Christmas music for Lent. Because it’s probably wrong to listen to songs about snowmen and presents and candy canes when we’re supposed to be fasting and praying and reflecting upon Jesus’s sacrifices for us. Jesus’s father would not like that. And to my mother, not listening to Christmas music for 40 days is truly tantamount to fasting in preparation for death. And I’m not even being sarcastic there.
I think my sister and I looked forward to that season following Thanksgiving with reverence, excitement, and a little bit of awe as we would watch our house transform into a veritable winter wonderland. I think my father mostly just cursed and wished that Baby Jesus’s birthday didn’t involve so many damned burned out light bulbs. But I would say that 80% of my happiest and most vivid childhood memories revolve around Christmas and our constant teasing of my obsessed mother.
I remember sitting on the couch and carefully unwrapping red candle after green candle after peppermint striped candle while It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television. I remember our Advent calendar with an Andes mint for my sister and I each day as we counted down to Christmas. I remember going to the Christmas symphony every year and watching our local weatherman come on stage with a Santa hat on his balding head. I remember sitting on the couch on Christmas Eve, eyes tightly shut, twitching slightly in anticipation when my parents would go into “Santa’s Room” and bring out our Christmas Eve gifts—always an ornament, pajamas, and Christmas book. I remember the year that my sister and I made Santa’s Favorite Cookies all on our own. And I remember putting out Santa’s cookies and eggnog (because he gets milk everywhere, the 5,000 calories in the eggnog would compliment his favorite cookies much more nicely) on the hearth in our special reindeer dishes with carrots and redhots outside for Rudolph (because they would make his nose shine more brightly, and since his sole purpose in life seemed to be that his nose shine brightly we thought we’d help him along).
Mostly I remember waking up on Christmas morning at the first sign of the sun peeking up over the horizon and assaulting my parents in their bed, as my sister and I panted and hyperventilated and NEARLY DIED as my mom put in her contacts and my dad TOOK FOREVER setting up the video camera in the den. And then the presents—oh the PRESENTS!! They exploded from under the tree, overflowing to the couch and the fireplace where our stockings would be laid as they were dripping with so many goodies that the stocking hangers couldn’t support the weight. But the first thing—always the first thing done was to take Jesus out of the drawer and place him in our nativity scene so that he could observe, probably fearfully, as we tore into our gifts with wild abandon and slight hysteria. I remember when my grandmother and grandfather were in good health we would pack up all of our favorite toys (read: every single thing we had received) and trek over to their house to resume with our second Christmas of the day and a ho-down with my grandfather at the helm, playing the guitar and singing as two frenzied little girls danced among the rubble of wrapping paper, bows, ribbons, and tissue paper.
As I said—Christmas is a BIG DEAL. We’ve always been very serious about Christmas and I would say that there have always been some unspoken rules in our family regarding the holidays that are probably more strictly adhered to than the canon in a Catholic church.
* Thou shalt not deny the existence of the good St Nicholas. For then the gifts shall cease to flow forth freely.
* Thou shalt not assault thine ear with any music but the hallowed John Denver and the Muppets Christmas record as thou decks thine tree.
* Thou shalt cease tearing into gifts once Santa’s supply is exhausted and retreat to the kitchen for rest and sustenance before resuming the exhausting task of opening gifts from thine kin.
* THOU SHALT BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.
This year marks the first year that I haven’t been home for all of the giddy preparations for the holiday season. It also marks the first Christmas that Mema, my grandmother, will not be here with us to celebrate. My sister and I will be doing the cooking since my mom will probably be feeling pretty much as though she’s been run over by a reindeer. In short, there are going to be a lot of things about this holiday that are very different from how things have been in the past, and in a way I feel as though I’ve truly reached the end of my childhood. Things have been gradually changing over the past 5 1/2 years, since I left for college and then graduated and moved away, but it’s as though suddenly I’ve reached the end of the line and I just got chucked off the Kiddie-Train. Within the next few years I imagine that I’ll be married, whether it be to Colby, Daniel Radcliffe, or some unnamed hunk from my future, and beginning a family of my own. At that point it will be my responsibility to create a magical environment for my own children to reflect upon with fond memories and feel safe and secure in as they grow older. And I know that eventually the cardinal rule of being home for Christmas may evolve and start to mean my own home, not my parents’. Part of the mystique of Christmas will have vanished in the effort to make a magical world for my own demon-babies. But I suppose in another way it will seem more magical as I get to relive that magic of Christmas through another set of eyes and relive old traditions as well as create my own. And I know that Christmas may change in some ways, but I’ll always have that warm glow when I think back on my own Christmases past.
Today I think about how we would laugh at my mother for her love of all things Christmas, and I can’t help but smile as I rejoice silently each time I turn on the engine of my car and hear carols playing on the radio, and feel butterflies of excitement as businesses start putting out holiday lights, and neighbors hang their Christmas wreaths. And I give thanks that not only did Baby Jesus give his life for our sins, but he also lets his annoying little brothers and sisters open all of his presents on his birthday. And really, it doesn’t get any better than that.
Michele sent me to see you, Angela / Katie.
Christmas was always a big event with my Mother also--and my Dad was just along for the ride. Of course my brother and I loved having so much emphasis on the holiday since it culminated in us getting presents.
Happy Holidays to you and yours, Angela.
Posted by: Utenzi | December 02, 2005 at 07:11 AM
Hello, Michele sent me!
It's good to see you getting excited about Christmas! Hope it turns out to be just as fun as you expect!
Posted by: Katie | December 02, 2005 at 07:14 AM
Now that was a long post!
Here from Michele's
Posted by: Dave | December 02, 2005 at 10:39 AM
Hi Angela Michelle sent me.
Glad to say Xmas has been revived by the arrival of mine and my brothers children, it had all got a bit dull with no kids around to enjoy the festivities, Christmas eeds the enthusiams of children :o)
Posted by: Aginoth | December 02, 2005 at 10:59 AM
wonderful post! thanks for sharing your beautiful memories of christmas. nice to know there are still some of us who celebrate the real reason for the season. :)
here via michele today.
Posted by: ribbiticus | December 02, 2005 at 01:33 PM
Wow, I could have written that post, it sounds exactly like Christmas with my family. I know exactly what you mean about feeling it slowly change when grandparents aren't there anymore and presents just aren't that fun and you're dragged kicking and screaming into adulthood.
You're also right about getting to revive it all when you have your own kids, I'm looking forward to starting all those traditions with Eve and becoming the crazy Christmas mother.
Posted by: Claire | December 02, 2005 at 01:55 PM
It's not so much funny that your mom had a hard time giving up Christmas music for 40 days - I can understand that, for I, too, love the Christmas music. However, the fact that it was a struggle for her at Easter? Is HYSTERICAL.
Posted by: Dawn | December 02, 2005 at 07:19 PM
ROFL @ being married to Daniel Radcliffe ;-) I came over to say I liked your answer to my Harry Potter question at Michele's. Irony!
I did like your post, tho, it reminded me of my Nana taking me to see the matinee of The Nutcracker in Boston each year when I was little.
Posted by: Janet | December 02, 2005 at 07:40 PM
Wonderful post! You can be wistful that things are not the same as always, while looking forward to creating new traditions.
Posted by: sophie | December 03, 2005 at 03:01 PM