The first Christmas for each of my children, when I wanted so much for them to rip into the packages but they would inevitably just tear off a small piece of wrapping paper and instantly put it into their mouths. That was enough for them because that's what babies do - eat!
The Christmas when my oldest nephew was just a toddler. He opened a large box that had a rather small gift tucked inside. The gift dropped out of the box unnoticed by him. He held up both his little arms and proclaimed "It's nothing!"
The Christmas gathering when all the cousins did a homespun version of the birth of Jesus. Because we had so many more girls than boys in the family, my eight-year-old niece had to be Joseph, while my six-year-old daughter got to be Mary. Unbeknownst to the adults, my niece's psyche was scarred for having to be a boy. She finally got over it...we think.
The year my oldest daughter snuck into her gifts by carefully slicing the tape, unwrapping, peeking, then rewrapping, taping precisely over the original tape. I would never have noticed if she hadn't needed something green to wear in a school music production. I knew I had wrapped up a green sweater for her. When I realized how she had cleverly peeked I opened all her gifts and replaced them with bath towels. Then I retaped just as she had and waited. On Christmas morning she opened a pile of bath towels, just what every young teenager needs. She knew she had been found out and the joke was on her. We did finally give her the original gifts that day, but only after all the other gifts had been opened.
The first Christmas after my youngest daughter died was a very difficult season. But she had had so much fun helping me to write The Family Inquirer over the long summer months when she was confined by illness. It was a family tattletale newspaper with funny articles based on the stupid stunts that all my siblings, parents, and grandmother had done throughout the year. I thank them for being able to laugh at themselves and for giving her some great laughs in her final months. I dedicated the publication to her memory and her love of a good joke.
The year my husband's family all came for Christmas at our farm home. I made up clues to guide my father-in-law on a treasure hunt through our big house to find his gift - the canoe he had been talking about for years but hadn't gotten around to buying for himself. He cried.
The little handmade Christmas tree made of clay by my middle child when she was in first grade was a favorite decoration of mine. I remember her little face lit up with excitement as she watched me unwrap it. She was so proud of it. I set it out for many years until it finally crumbled after getting damp.
After stringing the lights on our tree, my daughters would hang the ornaments. There were some handmade ornaments with their pictures in them. Each would try to hide her own picture at the back of the tree. Every few days it would reappear at the very front as they secretly shuffled each other's around.
Getting up very early while it was still dark outside to light the tree and all the candles, then waking my husband and daughters. We would have coffee and hot chocolate while opening the gifts in the soft glow with Christmas carols playing on the stereo. The best gift my husband gave me was his understanding that giving to our children meant more to me than anything he could buy for me.
The year my mother was pulling out gifts from under her tree, stood up and tripped, falling and injuring her wrist. She continued on with the celebration, ignoring the pain. She went to see a doctor the next day. She actually had a fracture.
My mother loved Christmas and decorating her house was an all day affair. My little sister and I helped her with this every year. I would drive up on a Saturday morning and we would begin the process of decking the halls so to speak. It was a wonderful day spent together, laughing and talking. We usually worked well into the night and then we would sit and enjoy the glow of all the lights. In mid-January we would spend another weekend together taking the decorations down and packing them away . It never felt like work. It was fun to be together for the purpose of making my mother happy. I am very glad for all the memories those weekends provided.
Rising at 3:00am to have Christmas via webcam with our daughters, our son-in-law, and our grandchildren. Getting to be a part of their annual tradition in spite of the distance is priceless.
Feel free to share some of yours in the comments.
3 comments:
I remember you always got the job of hanging the orange lights in the utility room. It was always good for a laugh.
One of my favorite holiday memories was on Thanksgiving. You and the family stayed all night with us. I got up really early and got the turkey in the oven. The house was so still. You awoke so we pulled a couple chairs next to the gas cook stove and toasted marshmallows over the flames. It had been a very long time since we had the chance to talk one on one, face to face, and to have the time to just sit still. It seemed as if time was suspended for that moment. I don't remember the content of our conversation, but that doesn't matter. It was just one of those rare moments in time, when all the planets were aligned, and we seized the moment to just sit and enjoy!
LilSis
Yes, I hang those lights in my laundry room now. We did have good times. Hopefully many more to come.
cass still gives me a hard time for getting to be mary while she had to play joseph. hee hee.
i always loved the big family christmas parties where us kids would get quarantined to the basement while the adults did gag gifts. every year we would try to sneak upstairs to see what all the laughing was about. we never succeeded, though, because anna mae was always there standing guard!
Post a Comment