Ah, Christmastime! Visions of sugar plums and happy family gatherings, with the family singing Christmas carols around the fireplace while little Bobby plays the piano.
Yeah, right. In what black-and-white-television universe? Christmas tends to be more a time for stress and anxiety, dredging up old family resentments and hurts, practicing plastering the fake smile on your face and having the proper inflection for “Oh, I LOVE it!” when opening gifts.
Now if I sound Grinchy, I don’t mean to. I’m really just being nostalgic. My family Christmases were just like that growing up. Warm spiked cider on the stove, a couple of cases of canned beer in the fridge, and my uncle in the kitchen keeping book on the bets as to who would get drunk and make a jerk of themselves first. If they made a scene AND stormed out, he payed double. Or there was the year my mom, cousin, and I tried to pretend Christmas wasn’t happening by renting horror flicks and watching them while gorging ourselves on sweets and popcorn (what we might think of as the “single women” Christmas).
Then I got married to a man who was raised by the Cleavers. Or perhaps by Jimmie Stewart and Donna Reed. And Christmases with his family were…different.
We’ve been married 12 years now. For the first Christmas with his family (our first as a married couple), I steeled myself for the insanity as I did every year with my family. And did I get more than I expected! They actually sang Christmas carols together. And our stockings were stuffed with silly presents his mother bought (or made) with love and care all through the year. We ate heartily, went to see Christmas lights, went to midnight church service, and thoroughly enjoyed our time with each other. What? What kind of Christmas is that?
My in-laws both passed away this year. I will miss them at Christmas most of all. And I’ll miss the “stocking fit for a bride” that his mother got for me that first year. And the bizarre boxes she found to wrap presents in. And his dad doing something silly, which he could always be counted on to do.
But to tell you the truth, I’ll also kind of miss the anticipation of family drama and craziness. It’s how I grew up, after all.
I miss my mom, mom- and dad-in-law, and the other family who have passed away recently…and those who can’t be bothered to visit (oops, old resentments slipping out. Must be Christmas.). But I’m grateful to be spending Christmas with my husband, our son, and my dad. And I expect it will be somewhere between “Attack of the Killer Tomatoes” and “It’s a Wonderful Life.” And that’s ok with me.
Merry Christmas.
Carpe Holidays!
