Holiday hangover...

Christmas came and went, and I'm not sure anybody really noticed.

The holidays at home are low key and that's not always a bad thing. My family makes a living dealing with people, so it's nice to have a few days where we deal with nobody but each other. I'm sure some people would consider us anti-social, but I consider it hiding out for my own sanity. Believe me, it's much better than the alternative.

Christmas was sort of anti-climatic this year, and I'm sure it is partly due to the fact that we've celebrated it three weeks in a row. I've really had some time to think about this. Getting together is wonderful, but it dilutes Christmas because by the time you're actually supposed to say happy birthday to Jesus everyone is already hungover and popping pills.

Regardless, it's still a great time for memories that will last a lifetime.


Santa is scary. Well, sis thought he was. Every year we'd head down to the Fire Hall and visit Santa. Our cousin would haul us down there and we'd anxiously await to tell the big guy what we wanted. Well, I would tell the big guy what WE wanted because sis was clutched to my cousin screaming. They would smile and hand me two little bags, one for me and one for sis. By the time I was six our seven, they could be heard saying, "just give Sarah two."


Work then play In our house growing up we didn't get out of bed until Mom and Dad got us out of bed, and then we were prompted to shut our eyes (and no peeking) as we were ushered past the living room (and tree) to the kitchen for breakfast. Dad makes breakfast on Christmas morning, and back in the day it was a toss up as to what you'd get. It's not bad, actually quite opposite - it was just that you never knew what he was going to dump in the eggs. Some years it was summer sausage, some years it may have been ham. We'd eat and then had to do all the dishes before we could look at the tree. It was a chore for two little girls who were more than excited to check out their loot.

Santa's handwriting looks a lot like Mom's - and one year our Christmas letter was written in highlighter. We always left Santa a few cookies and a tall glass of milk, and I can always remember Mom saying "oh, not so many cookies. Santa will not be able to eat them all." To which Dad would reply, "it's fine, Santa will be just fine."

Santa's struggles don't always mean the gift of your dreams. My sister and I listened one Christmas at the vent after Santa had thought we were tucked away in our beds. We were delighted to hear Santa struggle to get through the door. "A trampoline!" we yelled with a whisper. (We were younger, and logistics of that particular gift weren't at the top of mind). "We got a trampoline!" We were so excited we hopped back in our beds to wait it out. The next morning once we checked out our loot (we were ready to hop all day), but we yelled, "oh, sleds!"

Wrapping paper can be saved. But it shouldn't be. One of our favorite memories growing up was Grandpa opening his packages one piece of tape at a time. He would pull out that little pocket knife with the dull blade and go about  slicing under each piece of tape with precision. Five little kids would beg him to hurry, but he would move at the speed of smell. I'm not sure if he was tormenting us, or really "saving the paper."

A trip to the basement was also a tradition. Every Christmas we would all go down to the basement at Grandma and Grandpa's. This was the best part of the holiday. Grandpa was quite the creative woodworker and Grandma could put a coat of varnish on that would repel any liquid. I never had a plastic doll bed, or a Little Tykes kitchen. No, my dolls slept in the finest of oak and my kitchen will last a lifetime because it's made of Pine. I have a loaf pan sink under a real sink fixture, and washers making the rings of the stove. My wooden fridge is even a Frigidaire. I have a round oak dining room table, with matching chairs, and my dolls high chair matched the crib. One year Barbie got a new wardrobe (all hand made) with a huge closet - complete with drawers. You just can't buy stuff like that, and thanks to Grandpa and Grandma's handiwork - I never will have to buy anything like that.

Regardless of the gifts you unwrap, the real gifts are the memories you make with your family during the holidays.