When Jimmy John and I got married we agreed to an arrangement where we would spend one Christmas in Virginia with his family and the next in Colorado with mine. The arrangement worked well (for a whopping two years) until the kids came along. We hadn't anticipated the fun of traveling with children. Even though his family is only a two hour drive, staying in unfamiliar beds, houses with lots of breakable knick-knacks, is enough to fill Jimmy John with angst. This year was a Virginia Christmas. But, the family called with news of medical emergencies, and rather then descend upon a convalescing 86 year old, we postponed our travel plans. It was a little disappointing not to be with family, but secretly, Jimmy John and I were excited to have a Christmas all to ourselves.
Because we weren't expecting to be "doing Christmas" ourselves, I had several last minute errands to run on Christmas Eve. I had to go to the post office to pick up our held mail and to the grocery store to get a few last-minute ingredients for the Christmas feast. While I was at the grocery, I also wanted to hop next door to the mall to redeem a rebate that would expire that day. The post office was a ghost town, but about half a mile from the mall, the traffic was was at a dead stop. The 2 minute drive took me 15 minutes. After another 15 looking for a parking space at the grocery store, I gave up crossed the street to the mall and parked in the boonies. People were honking and grumbling; it was chaotic.
I went inside the mall first, and almost walked back out forsaking my twenty dollar rebate. The hoards of people were astounding. Garish pop-Christmas tunes blared from the loud speaker. Not my idea of a pleasant Christmas Eve. I looked around at that harried consumers grabbing last minute gifts, deal, whatever and I was struck by the words of the song playing at that moment: "So this is Christmas." The irony touched me and has caused me to ponder how I celebrate Christmas. Do I focus on celebratory rituals such as gifts, food, greeting cards, etc. because I feel they are culturally necessary or are they are an outward expression of joy in the birth of the Savior? And what am I teaching my daughter about Christmas by my actions?
My self-evaluation yielded some less than satisfactory results. I believe I focused on Christ and His birth more than I had in some previous years, but I still didn't make it the center of my celebration. I enjoy all of the Christmas festivities, and I'm in no way decrying the worth of giving gifts or baking cookies, but my thoughts were directed more towards getting things done on time rather than pondering the wonder of the atonement or simply enjoying my family. However, I was happy to realize that spending Christmas as an individual family had increased my focus on the 'true meaning of Christmas'. We weren't having an extravagant Christmas, but it was our Christmas, one we had put together ourselves for the enjoyment of the children and it had brought our family closer together.
I returned home from the mall and played outside with Goose and Little E. We had dinner, read the Christmas story and sang carols. Christmas morning was still mostly about the gifts, but when I put Goose to bed tonight, she clutching her "Little People" holy family singing "Happy Birthday" to baby Jesus, I realized we'd done alright after all. Merry Christmas.
Tetrakiss - Lab Monkey turned Monkey Wrangler
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Deck the Halls with Bowls of Popcorn
We put up our Christmas tree last night. It's a sorry little thing that we borrowed from a friend (thanks Denise!) when we decided at the last minute to cancel our travel plans; a four-foot artificial tree that leans noticably to the right. I love it! But more importantly, the kids do too.
Having never put up a tree in the five years we have been married, we had no lights and very few ornaments. I made a special trip to the store for the lights (which were already 50% off! Hooray for last minute shopping.) and had the wonderfully brilliant idea of stringing popcorn as an inexpensive means of adorning our little Christmas twig.
The lights went on the twig the moment I got home. The kids, who were nearing bedtime and therefore already a little squirrely, were hovering around the action excitedly. We turned the lights on and Little E squealed with delight, danced about and clapped his hands. He now gets scolded about every 10 minutes for pulling/touching/wiggling nearby the twig. Goose sat at the base gazing lovingly at the twig for a good 20 minutes. I realized it would be best to put off the
popcorn stringing until the following day; any more excitment and the kiddos would explode.
We aren't popcorn people, so when I unearthed the popcorn popper from the basement and set it up in the kitchen, the kids were curious. Little E, knowing the chances of being picked up for a good view of the countertop were slim, retrieved a chair from the dining room and dragged it into the kitchen. He flopped his body on the seat, grabbed the rungs and hoisted with all his might.
He does this about 50 times a day and each time he does it I think about what the equivalant movement for me would be. I'm sure if I mimicked everything he did in a day I would eat much
more and sleep much longer than he does.
Anyway, the kids were wowed by the air popper. We could have stopped there and it would have been a successful activity. But, no! There was a twig to decorate! And so, in a move that some professionals may classify as certifiable, I set the popcorn bowl on the floor of the living room and handed my 3 year old a needle and thread. As I placed the sharp object in her hands I wondered if I was a stupidly permissive mom, but, Goose has amazing fine motor skills for a 3 year old and was aware of the pain needles were capable of inflicting (from watching me use them), and the stringing proceeding with only one needle stick. My needle. My finger.
I am not so entirely permissive as to give Little E a needle, so he was relagated to eating the popcorn. That soon lost it's appeal, so my resourceful son decided to create an indoor sandbox, dumping the entire bowl of popcorn on the floor. The entertainment kept the children's attention so well, I got bored and irritated with the mess first and despite protests put it away about an our after we began. Our own White Christmas. I think we've found our very first Christmas tradition.
Having never put up a tree in the five years we have been married, we had no lights and very few ornaments. I made a special trip to the store for the lights (which were already 50% off! Hooray for last minute shopping.) and had the wonderfully brilliant idea of stringing popcorn as an inexpensive means of adorning our little Christmas twig.
The lights went on the twig the moment I got home. The kids, who were nearing bedtime and therefore already a little squirrely, were hovering around the action excitedly. We turned the lights on and Little E squealed with delight, danced about and clapped his hands. He now gets scolded about every 10 minutes for pulling/touching/wiggling nearby the twig. Goose sat at the base gazing lovingly at the twig for a good 20 minutes. I realized it would be best to put off the
popcorn stringing until the following day; any more excitment and the kiddos would explode.
We aren't popcorn people, so when I unearthed the popcorn popper from the basement and set it up in the kitchen, the kids were curious. Little E, knowing the chances of being picked up for a good view of the countertop were slim, retrieved a chair from the dining room and dragged it into the kitchen. He flopped his body on the seat, grabbed the rungs and hoisted with all his might.
He does this about 50 times a day and each time he does it I think about what the equivalant movement for me would be. I'm sure if I mimicked everything he did in a day I would eat much
more and sleep much longer than he does.
Anyway, the kids were wowed by the air popper. We could have stopped there and it would have been a successful activity. But, no! There was a twig to decorate! And so, in a move that some professionals may classify as certifiable, I set the popcorn bowl on the floor of the living room and handed my 3 year old a needle and thread. As I placed the sharp object in her hands I wondered if I was a stupidly permissive mom, but, Goose has amazing fine motor skills for a 3 year old and was aware of the pain needles were capable of inflicting (from watching me use them), and the stringing proceeding with only one needle stick. My needle. My finger.
I am not so entirely permissive as to give Little E a needle, so he was relagated to eating the popcorn. That soon lost it's appeal, so my resourceful son decided to create an indoor sandbox, dumping the entire bowl of popcorn on the floor. The entertainment kept the children's attention so well, I got bored and irritated with the mess first and despite protests put it away about an our after we began. Our own White Christmas. I think we've found our very first Christmas tradition.
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