I suggested to my girls that they all marry a Jewish boy so I can remain selfish in my Christmas observance way. I want to always attend Christmas Eve service as a family. I want to always come home after church to a feast of rib eyes, crab legs and twice baked potatoes. I want to always have them gather with their cousins and grandparents on Christmas Day free from having to appease another family's holiday traditions. I know it is probably a dream but it sounds good for now.
Can we talk about Christmas Eve service for a minute? The holidays bring out the "CEO" church goers in droves. It is those who take up prime seating leaving these regular attendees sitting in the obstructed view section of the sanctuary. Okay so the obstruction isn't a bad obstruction; it was the Christmas tree after all, so one can't complain too much. What I can complain about is single mom who can never seem to control her boys--holiday or any regular ole' Sunday. The minute the hellions entered the sanctuary they began disrobing, then perusing the isles barefoot. One drank a juice bag where he let it drool out all over the floor. Then the two little hellions began cruising around on the alter. THE ALTER! In the middle of the very sacred service. At one point the mother left with her boys only to have the boys return motherless. Next they squirreled there way on the alter again and hid behind the pulpit and then the alter, there she was on the alter herself trying to find baby hellion while big hellion circled the Christmas tree. Everyone else had there babes dressed in Christmas taffeta, patent leather Mary Janes, ties and sweater vests sitting with reverence and discipline. I was ready to stick my foot out into the isle to trip baby hellion as he passed me making monster noises while eyes rolled all around. I even thought of ripping the wallet chain that hung off some biker broad's green jeans to use as a lasso to reel in the hellion. It wasn't till, Baby Jesus sat up in his manger and said to cool it that single mother decided after receiving communion to high tail it out of church before someone ordered Herod from the dead to send an angry mob to follow her home.
Regardless of the hellions' antics I was feeling all Christmassy and Jesus filled hearing the bell choir chime their bells, the choir singing, the congregation singing together all my favorite carols and holding my flickering candle in a dim lit church while Silent Night verses were sung to a guitar softly playing between spoken excerpts of explanation. It gave way to the true meaning and spirit of the holiday.
Then in the night Santa came. He laid gifts all around the tree. Three presents for each of the girls...cause three is the amount of gifts Jesus got, so, if it was good enough for Jesus it is good enough for them. And it was. Always is!
It was the year of Christmas shoes.
There was the much needed black heels for Princess A
soft and furry Coach moccasins for M
and Ugg boots for D
Even I got Christmas shoes, new black leather boots for which there is not picture for proof. We even gave our niece Alyssa Christmas shoes--graffiti style Chucks.
At noon the aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents started rolling in and the nog cocktails were slamming. Gift distribution began again. After paper and ribbons danced in the air by teenage girls my mother-in-law's husband handed each of the "big girls" a small package and said with tears in his eyes and warmth in his heart, "this is something for all of you helping me get through mom's surgeries." My sister-in-laws and I all opened at the same time to reveal beautiful diamond earrings. Even Aunt Jan got a pair, she is mom's best sister friend, hair stylist, manicurist.... It was so unexpected. I believe we all did what anyone would do for someone they care deeply for...to support and carry along another family member in time of need with no reward required.
While we girls were all ooooing and aaaahing over diamond earrings, King Ralph was gathered with the guys in the red room all oh-yaing over his new Harley Davidson Babe calendar his cousin/motorcycle riding partner gave him. It was a picture of frat boys as they starred at each month's babe. Ah, ya, Richie the answer is no the calendar will not look good on that bare wall in the kitchen behind the island or in the living room...I'm thinking garage. By the looks of the month King Ralph has open for display he plans on spending his birthday in the garage with Miss July. Oh husband!
Of course no Christmas is ever complete without taking a first cousins picture with my nephew [and his wife's] name written on paper to remind us (and them) that the Air Force keeps them far from home--in Alaska and we miss them being with us.
Then there is always the "hot cousins" picture, because no one can refute the fact that this bunch of second cousins can turn the heads of boys.
I rolled over this morning looking at a clock that said 5am...not this morning, no I was allowing myself to sleep like Santa after a long night of spreading joy and dream about all those vision of sugar plums and such. It was a great couple of December days!