We LIVE for Christmas.
The entire year revolves around the season of love, hope, and joy for my family. (Seriously, it does.) My parents start saving money at the beginning of the year, so we can all head to the Great Smokey Mountains a few days before Christmas. We shop. We eat. We shop some more. We eat...waaaay too much. Most importantly, we get to spend time skipping around Gatlinburg with the people we love. For a few days, stress becomes non-existent and our hearts swell with thankfulness and pure adoration for each other. It's bliss.
Back at the home front, my parents decorate our house to the nines. No, we don't have the giant inflatable snowmen in our front yard or a plastic glowing Santa on our roof. But we do have multi-colored lights on the fence out front and candles in the windows. And we have two giant live trees: the old-fashioned tree in the dining room and the family tree in the play room. Garlands seem to have exploded everywhere. Dozens of Christmas tins are filled with yummy treats and scattered around the house. Our home smells like cookies and cinnamon for a solid month. Tradition is everywhere.
Then, there are the presents. Good grief. We go
When my sister and I were kids, we really didn't get a whole lot during the "off-season." We got what we needed, not necessarily what we wanted. If we behaved in the store, we got to walk down the toy isle and point to items we'd like Santa to bring us. We didn't get toys until Christmas...and at Christmas, we hit the mother-load. We still do. (And yes, Katie is 29 and I'm 26 and Santa still brings us presents.)
So, as you can see, Christmas is incredibly important to me. As my excitement grows as we get closer and closer to the big day, I feel more and more nostalgic. Without further adieu, here are a few of my favorite Christmas memories.
- Anyone remember this? Yep. That the Precious Places Magnet Mansion.
This was probably one of the best (if not the best) toys Katie and I ever got. If you're not familiar with it, the PPMM came out in 1989. You used a magnetic key to turn on the lights and move the family of plastic figurines all around. They could even hobble up the stairs! This bad boy was awesome. I remember that Christmas especially well, because of this toy. (My parents also have it all on tape.) Katie and I woke up around 4 a.m. and ran into the playroom, which was pitch black with the exception of the Christmas lights and the mansion. My parents had set it up on the coffee table and turned on all its lights. We were like moths drawn to a flame. It was truly magical, and Katie and I played with that mansion for years. (Later on we got the ballet studio, horse stable, and gazebo.) I know that my sis and I will always remember our young excitement over this toy. Now that I'm grown, however, I realize the best part of receiving it was the sound of my parents' voices as they rejoiced with us and asked us what it could do (because Santa brought it) and the looks on their faces when they saw how happy we were. I know how wonderful they must have felt (even at 4 in the morning), because that's how I feel now when I watch my niece open her gifts on Christmas morning. My heart simply melts.
- John Denver and the Muppets Christmas album was and still is the bomb dot com. I don't know when my parents bought that vinyl record, because for as far back as I can remember, we've always had it. We still play it on repeat during the Christmas season. I can remember roller blading in the playroom and listening to "Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat!" I also remember decorating our teddy bear garlands while listening to this album. I was always jealous, because Katie's were so much better than mine. At the time I didn't realize it was due to my weaker motor skills and lack of attention span. Gluing on those dang sequins was hard for a three year old. Anyway, we own the CD now, but the well-loved record still remains in our family.
- "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go!" I loved going to my paternal grandparent's house on Christmas eve. At Thanksgiving, the cousins would draw names for Christmas presents. (I always hoped to get one of my younger cousin's names...because Uncle Don and Aunt Jill always gave the coolest presents...like my Nerf gun that I'm pretty sure they got me to torture my parents.) Furthermore, I loved seeing my grandparent's house full of familiar faces and warm embraces. We'd also go to my great-grandmother's house for a while and see the extended family. When your grandma's the oldest of twelve kids, you have quite a few cousins to mingle with.
Perhaps the best Christmas at my grandparent's house, however, was the Christmas we gave them the blueprints to their new home. My grandparents lived in a four room, half-bath house. Yep, there was no shower. The front porch was caved in...I should know...I fell through it. And Mamaw and Papaw had collected so many memories over the years, they simply had no room. So, my dad and his siblings and a host of family and friends got together to build what would be "The House That Love Built." At the time I was the youngest (so I guess the cutest by default), so my parents and aunts and uncles shoved a coiled piece of paper in my hand and my sister, cousins, and I shuffled toward my grandparent's and handed them their future. And I saw my grandparents weep for the first time in my life. And my family rejoiced on that special Christmas like we never had before.
- Christmas in Baltimore. We only made it to my mom's parents' house one Christmas. A twelve hour drive and two little kids made that trip difficult, so I'm just grateful we at least made it once. I was in the third or fourth grade and had a dumb haircut, which my mother regularly convinced me was "cute." Katie and I had half a dozen matching Christmas sweaters, which we proudly wore on that trip. To keep us busy on the car ride, Katie and I decorated stockings for my Mom-Ouise and Pop-Pop. I worried that Mom-Ouise wouldn't like hers, because I had decorated it...and Katie was a much better colorer than I. Nevertheless, she loved it. I was also nervous that year, because I wasn't sure how Santa was going to find us. He did. And he brought me a Puppy Surprise, which I'm pretty sure my grandparents found disturbing. I also remember watching an old silent movie of my momma and her family when she was a kid. My grandparents, uncles, aunts, parents, sister, cousins, and I sat in the enclosed carport and watched the film as my Uncle Dick provided commentary. That's when he dubbed himself "Uncle Hotdog," a name we still use for him. Then, he danced with my grandmother in the carport as we all watched and giggled. Mom-Ouise pretended to be embarrassed, but I know she loved it...because in many ways my mother is just like her...and so am I...and we would have loved that.
It was wonderful to experience the Clisham Christmas, even if it was just that once. Now that I live so far away from my family, I truly appreciate how special that was for my mother.
- On a lighter note....I'd like to address the great donut fiasco of 2009. It was Lucas' first Christmas with us in Gatlinburg. You have to understand, Lucas' family isn't into Christmas quite like mine is. And I apparently didn't prepare him for the merriment I expected him to have. He still felt a little uncomfortable around my family and he wasn't really sure what his role was in the whole the Davises do Gatlinburg Santa Style trip. Basically, he was over-whelmed and ready to go home almost as soon as we got there. He was a trooper for about 36 hours, but when the 37th rolled around, he was ready to split. I gave him permission to bolt, but I did so hoping he'd change his mind and stay. (Communication was especially weak at this point in our young marriage.) So, he was going to leave early on our last day there and I was going to stay and spend time with my family then drive back with my parents. Early that morning my parents invited us to get our traditional donuts at the Donut Friar. I declined, because Lucas was still asleep and I felt bad leaving him. My mom offered to bring us back donuts. She did so and asked me if I was still staying or leaving with Lucas (as tears welled up in her eyes). I cried. I cried a lot and started to resent my husband for putting me in this situation. So, like any crazed Christmas wife would, I decided to confront my husband on the issue. When I woke him, he yelled at me for waking him and stumbled out of bed fifteen minutes later. Fit to be tied, I started to eat my donut in hopes that it would calm my nerves. It did until Lucas emerged from bed, fussed at me for getting him up so early, talked about leaving, and said, "Is that a donut? Where's my donut? Here I am doing your family's Christmas thing and they can't even get me a donut?" Despite the fact that I knew Lucas is always grumpy in the morning and says thing that he doesn't mean when he first wakes up, my blood still boiled. I reached the breaking point. I
He ate the donut. I was afforded a little more time with my parents...and a little more time with them the next year. And now we can laugh at the great donut incident of 2009. God love him. Lucas can never win.
- Rudolph de Nariz Roja! My elementary school always did ( and still does) their version of "The Nutcracker" every year. My sister was the Sugar Plum Fairy her year, and I was a Sugar Plum Fairy attendant my year. I had the best role. I got to do two dances and sit on stage throughout pretty much the entire play. No backstage boredom for me. That was all well and done, but the most memorable part of our evening on stage was the fifteen minute concert before the play in which we sang "Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer" in Spanish. For weeks I went around our house belting "Rudolph de Nariz Roja!" at the top of my little lungs. I sang it so much, in fact, I'm pretty sure Katie still knows the song in full.
- I lose things. Generally, I always find them, but still...I lose things. For years, my family was convinced that I had lost my mom's copy of the aforementioned recording of her and her family from the 50s. Well, I didn't. I have no clue what happened to that VHS tape. Honest to blog, I don't. Nevertheless, I was blamed for its disappearance for years. A few years ago, I received an especially brutal verbal beating over the missing tape by my entire family. They stopped badgering me when I started to cry and bleated out my innocence like a little lamb fighting for its life. I decided on that day that I would show them...I would show them all. So, I made a call to my aunt and uncle in Maryland, and the following Christmas I had my revenge (sort of). I told my mother her present was in the living room. I had her sit on the couch and close her eyes. Then I went to the TV and started the DVD player. She opened her eyes, and there she was as a baby, surrounded by family in a time unknown to me. And she gasped and sat in bewilderment of the footage she hadn't seen in years. Instead of feeling avenged, I felt like I had found a missing puzzle piece for my mom. It wasn't about what I did or didn't do; it was about relieving some pain for my mother, making her happy.
Well, I've written yet another novel! Nothing wrong with happy reflections, I guess. I hope that when you're reading this, some of your favorite Christmas memories come to you. Christmas is a magical, beautiful holiday, and I wish you all the best this particular year. God bless you and keep you.
