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| Presents not under a tree |
Here is my first confession: No Christmas tree this year. My son and I are not dragging out the three heavy boxes of fake Christmas tree in the garage, nor are we venturing into the spider-laden crawl space under the steps to get the three boxes of ornaments and several wrapping-paper cardboard rolls that hold mini-lights.
At first I was horrified. What kind of mom am I? What kind of PERSON not to put the tree up?
We put up a couple strings of lights in the front window, added a wreath to the front door, plugged in the lighted garland on the banister, put the presents on the coffee table, and called it done.
This “season” is way, way too big. It’s not just the shopping emphasis. The child mentioned above is, at this very moment, seeking seasonal fulfillment, or at least feeling the pressure of seasonal obligations, at a couple big box stores.
It’s that all the “trimmings” have gotten too large. Decorating, parties, cards, volunteer projects …
OOPS! Let me take that back. It’s the volunteer projects that have brought me satisfaction. I do a couple of those for homeless teens and for women incarcerated at the county jail, and I make a donation or two I normally might not make. I have, in the past, rung bells, picked a family for whom to purchase gifts, and other typical charity efforts.
And I do enjoy shopping for a few special things for friends and family, finding things I believe they will enjoy – or laugh at!
Confession number three: But when it comes to my family – small nuclear family that it is, two sons, one 20 and one 16 – I am stopping the “must dos” that I used to do when they were little.
I asked The Youngest this morning what family Christmas memories he had.
“I remember one year,” he replied right away, “you and (The Oldest) and I were decorating the tree, dancing to N Sync. And then I tripped and fell and I cried and ran to my room because I thought I ruined it.”
Oh, Joy. I, of course, don’t remember that at all.
He also remembers some good things, including one of my personal favorites, which was driving the boys Christmas Eve along Duluth’s scenic Skyline Parkway, over to a neighborhood that has an impressive light display, and back along the Parkway, where we stop at a pull-out and look at the lights below in the Duluth harbor, on the bridge, and in the town.
One year, The Oldest told the Youngest, “Look! There’s Santa out there!” and directed him to the black expanse that is Lake Superior in the dark.
“No,” I said, “I think that’s a freighter in the lake.” The shipping season goes until mid-January here, and the ore and grain and coal carriers often park in the harbor, deck lights twinkling.
“MOM!” The Oldest shouted, and I quickly back-tracked. “Wait! He is RIGHT! It’s NOT a freighter!” The moment was saved.
The Youngest claims he remembers this, too.
But what is up with the tendency to remember the bad stuff first?
I can remember the year The Oldest was about four, and I had carefully selected two Santa gifts: a fairly pricey giant plastic crane that actually lifted plastic pipes, and a rubber Mamenchisaurus, an impressive long-necked dinosaur about which we had read. Over and over and over.
After he had seen the two Santa gifts, which took maybe three minutes, at the most, he looked up and asked, “Is that it?”
Apparently Santa should not cheap out, even a 4-year-old.
I still recall the year I was about 10 or 12 and my cousin broke a family-china dinner plate at dinner. She cried. So did my mother. Over china, for goodness sake. (I now use the 40-piece set I got on sale for $20.)
Christmas trees often bring out the worst in family gatherings. In our house, trekking out in the cold and cutting and bringing in a fresh tree just wasn’t in the cards for this single mom with two young boys. We’ve used the fake tree for 10 of 11 Christmases so far, so its global footprint and purchase price have been amortized.
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| Bella in front of last year's tree |
But more years than not, there was a fight over who was helping the most, or who was not putting the ornaments on “right.”
One friend recently confessed that putting up the tree ignited a huge fight between him and his wife early in their marriage. Each had an idea of how it should be, and the other one wasn’t right.
We laughed about this. Now, decades later.
In couples I knew, especially those with little kids, “doing” Christmas with in-laws who didn’t celebrate the way one partner’s biological family did caused huge amounts of stress, as did dragging excited children through blizzards or along icy highways to get to the relatives, where the wound-up kids had major temper tantrums. And maybe even broke the family china.
In divorced families, Christmas often is a rotten time. You “share” the children and deal with ex-spouses in order to do so, when it’s so much easier when you don’t. This often leaves one spouse alone.
Aloneness seems to be the worst punishment for a life apparently poorly lived or failure in character. I am flying Christmas day to be with my elderly mother, so she “won’t be alone on Christmas.” A good friend’s family has always had me, with or without the boys, to their house for a wonderful Christmas day dinner. When I lived in the Twin Cities, I used to organize “orphan” holidays for people without families nearby.
Confession number four: It is just one day, and it’s OK if it isn’t spiritually or otherwise fulfilling. Whether you and your family go to church or not, whether you are Christian or not, whether you are alone or not, it is just one day.
If it’s a wonderful experience this year for you, please be tactful and remember that Christmas can be downright miserable for some. For people who have had someone they loved die this year, or who have been divorced, or who have lost a job or have reduced income, or who have moved to a new community, or who are not in that picture-perfect blissfully happy family situation, or who are not practicing Christians, it is important to remember that Christmas isn’t fun. When you think about it, that fits an awfully lot of people.
It is Just One Day. You will get through it. You are not required to have a merry Christmas every year. Some years you will not. If you are not Christian, you are “out” every year. Always.
Confession number five: The gifts are irrelevant. (Blasphemy!) Most people won’t remember the gifts they get. Or give. In my 54 Christmases, I honestly remember very few. It truly is “the thought that counts.”
So I will try to do the things I have tried to create traditions: a special Christmas Eve dinner and homemade cinnamon rolls for Christmas breakfast. And a couple personal ones I won’t list here.
I still make the homemade toffee and a few types of cookies people seem to appreciate. (Decorating cut-out cookies with the boys stopped after the year they started putting private parts on the gingerbread people.)
In a country where I have heard the “overweight or obese” percent of our population is 68, no one really needs this. Instead, we should all go to the gym and work out together, or take a brisk walk.
But we take huge sensual satisfaction in eating. For generations, women showed their love for family by nourishing them with good food. Now, with international tastes and access to exotic spices and condiments and meat cuts, and it’s OK for men to cook, too, we have elevated it to a higher level.
King Arthur Flour, a 220-year-old company based in Vermont, says on TV ads that its mission is “bringing the joy of baking to the world.” Comfort and joy, indeed.
The motto of Penzey’s, the spice store people, is: “Love people. Cook them tasty food.”
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| Grandma Mary's cinnamon roll recipe |
In that spirit, I will press into service my mother’s cinnamon roll recipe again. Hopefully, the aroma of cinnamon rolls baking will carry a message to my boys that their mom went out of her way to do something that took a little more work, because she loved them.
More than the annual flannel shirt, more than the decorated tree, more than the Mamenchisaurus have said.
Because my love for them isn’t limited to Just One Day, I believe they will know that. Even when Christmases change. Or when the cinnamon rolls go away.
Amen. I have been trying to scale back Christmas for years. This year Bob and I set a $25 limit on gifts for each other. And I get the kids a couple of small gifts and a check. Shopping is so much simpler!
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