Christmas Time: A Blast from my Past

I'm struggling with holiday "emotionalness" tonight. First, you need to understand that I had an amazing childhood, and when I say "amazing", I mean darn near perfect. I had (have) two loving parents that brought my brother and I up in a loving, happy, stable home. Most of my best memories from my childhood revolve around the holidays, specifically Christmas. These were the times that my family spent together as a whole.

My brother and I
1994

Audri kept repeating "Santa, nice, Santa, nice" as if trying to convince herself
that it was ok to be sitting near Santa. Now, Mrs. Clause, she was ok with.
December 2012

Christmas was such a special time for me as a child. My favorite memories are of my family piling in to my dad's old red "wood truck" and heading to the tree farm to search for a tree. The smell and the sound of this truck are unforgettable and it was always a gamble as to whether or not it started on the first try (usually it didn't). After hopping through the snow in search of the perfect tree, I would watch my dad start up his chainsaw to cut the tree down- another unforgettable mixture of scent and sounds.

After hauling in and setting the tree up in the stand, the second part of the fun would begin. My dad would drag up these huge barrels of ornaments up from under the basement stairs while my mom would start making the hot chocolate. After everything was up (I'm talking four or five big barrels and a few boxes and bags too), we got to the real work. My favorite part of decorating the tree was pulling the ornaments out one by one and asking Mom and Dad where it came from and why it was special. Every ornament had a story, and I always asked, even when I already knew the answer. Some were gifts from my parents to each other, some were ornaments my brother and I had made as preschoolers. Even looking at the ornaments we had made the year before brought up stories and memories that felt like they had happened half a lifetime ago. I suppose for a young kid, a year ago is almost half a lifetime.

This is me in one of the barrels

Then there was Christmas Eve. We always spent this day with my dad's side of the family at my aunt's house. If I haven't told you the story of the visits from Drag Queen Mrs. Clause, you'll have to remind me to tell you sometime, but that's a story for another day... After singing Christmas carols, eating a delicious dinner, and opening gifts brought by (you know who... ^) we would head home to get ready for Santa's visit. I remember driving home on these nights, and they were almost always clear, looking out the car window at the stars and moon, hoping to catch a glimpse of Santa's sleigh and wondering if, maybe, just maybe, this year, he had beat us home and we would get to open our gifts early. Eh, no such luck.

Grandpa, Me, "Mrs." Clause, Santa?, and Grandma
Christmas Eve, 1993ish

My mom and dad would help us prepare a plate of cookies and cup of milk for Santa. We would read a story together and then head to bed in anticipation of the magic that was sure to happen that night.

Christmas morning was always magical. I have no sense of the time now, but I do remember waking up super early on Christmas morning. How early? I have no idea, but I do know that PBS hadn't started airing for the day yet. I remember this so vividly because I would rush out to the living room to see all the loot, race to Mom and Dad's room and ask if it's "wake up time yet?" "Is Sesame Street on yet?", Mom would ask me. I already knew the answer, but I always turned on the TV to double check.

Nope. And I knew the rule. If it wasn't on, it wasn't wake up time. So there I would sit, staring at the screen, waiting for the guys at PBS to get their rears in gear and turn Sesame Street on so I could go wake Mom and Dad up already.

Finally, after hours and hours (or more than likely, 15 minutes) of waiting, it was go time. With the egg bakes in the oven (one for them and one for me without all the "icky stuff"), the bowl of Christmas colored M&M's in front of my dad and the seasonal songs on in the background, we got down to business. My brother and I would take turns each year being the one who got to hand out the presents.

I specifically remember being told "Now pretend you like each other
so I can take a picture." I think we were pretty good actors, don't you?
1995ish

Each time it came to be my dad's turn to open a gift, we would groan... Why? Because my dear daddy took FOR-EV-ER. He would grab the gift, feel it, shake it, turn it over and over, and while he was doing that, he was thinking of the most ridiculous pun that would describe what he had figured was in each box. And more often than not, he was right. I so wish I could think of an example now. I'm sure I'll hear plenty tomorrow morning. And I can't wait!

This probably isn't the best picture to illustrate our happy family Christmas times,
but considering we were both moody teenagers, I think this came out
pretty well... don't you?
Christmas 2000

My parents had so much fun with each other on Christmas morning. My dad loves chocolate covered cherries and my mom loves Turtles. They always give each other their favorite candies. But, it's not in the boring old in-the-box kind of way. They always come up with the most creative places to hide these candies. My parents have even gone as far as opening the candy package, emptying it, filling it with a different gift, resealing the cellophane wrapping, individually wrapping the candies and hiding them in another gift box. After resealing that box, of course, to look like it had never been touched. It was always so much fun watching them try to find their candies. This is another one of my favorite things about Christmas morning.

So here's where I am struggling now. I have all these memories of these great, silly holiday traditions that mean nothing to anyone else besides the four of us. I want to give the same to my kids. I want them to be able to look back in 20-something years and remember these days as some of the best times of their lives. But, I'm having trouble getting my husband to relate this desire to create traditions with our kids. He grew up in a very different place- geographically and culturally- than suburban Minnesota.

Should I even be posting this? This is my darling husband.
Christmas, 1986 (I think), Mexico

My husband's childhood home

It's hard to get my wonderful husband to see that decorating the tree is an event, not a 20 minute chore. I need him to realize that there is a childlike ritual to Christmas Eve night that I miss participating in- it's more than shoving the kids off to bed so we can put out the gifts to he can go so his friends' house to share Christmas with them. I pray for him to understand that Christmas is more than a list of to-dos that needs to be hurried through and crossed off. It's a time to slow down, enjoy this time we have with our children, and create happy memories that will hopefully last their entire lifetimes.

December 2012

So while there are many days that I feel like I have not succeeded at being the best mom I can be, I so badly want Christmastime to be one of those times that I can say, without a doubt, that I succeeded in creating memories and traditions with my family that they will want to pass on to their own someday. Even if its just for one day.