In case I didn’t already mention it, I am a bit of a Christmas junkie.
That said, more than the twinkling lights or the presents under the tree, Christmas for me is about traditions, family, and making memories.
Every Christmas my parents would bundle us up and load the trunk of their 1978 White Acadian hatchback with gifts for my Dad’s family on one side and my Mom’s on the other.
Then, assuming the car would start, they would take us on a “Christmas” tour of the city - from one side of our family to another, until I can only imagine they were about to drop from exhaustion. I don’t know if it’s because my mom grew up with all of her extended family on the other side of the ocean or not, but she made sure we were always surrounded by ours.
On Christmas Day, I can remember waking up to find our stockings hanging from our door knobs, and then running in and jumping on our parents' bed to wake them up, just bursting with excitement that, despite our bickering, my older brother and I had managed to somehow make Santa’s “nice” list yet again.
We didn’t have a whole lot growing up, but when Christmas rolled around, my family had a “go-big-or-go-home” kind of mentality. That said, although we didn’t have a lot of money, we never once felt like we were doing without. Not once as kids did my brother and I wake up on Christmas morning and come running down the stairs to find a tree with nothing underneath it - and for that, I am grateful.
Following our “marathon” of gift giving (we opened one gift at a time, and, as we got older, our day ALWAYS included our extended family, so it would often take several hours), we would all take a quick break and then set the room up for dinner – a formal table setting with Christmas crackers, blowers and tweeters and of course the obligatory paper hats.
And, of course, the turkey and all the fixings. Except for Christmas dinner 1985 when it nearly went horribly wrong. I was five and my brother was 10 and my Grandad decided to surprise us with a brand new recipe he’d discovered and assumed we would love.
He wanted to prove to us that seeing as we loved peanut butter sandwiches so much we would of course love his peanut butter soup. The result, despite his enthusiasm, was not a culinary masterpiece but rather a food flop - and one that more than 35 years later still makes our taste buds cringe just thinking about it!
Coming in a close second for holiday memories, was the year he and my mom finally got the Christmas pudding to light on fire! After years of “duds” no matter how much whiskey they’d douse it with, they were nearly giddy when it went up in flames. There was just one problem… it didn’t stop and then it started to smoke!
Turns out, they forgot to remove the cardboard base. Again, while it may not have been the desired outcome, it has given us yet another memory that we can look back on all these years later and laugh about.
As the mother of two young children who still believe in Santa Claus (and nearly double the age my parents were when my brother and I were young) I have come to realize just how much hard work goes in to create all of that holiday “magic.”
Growing up, our Christmas may not have been what some define as “Hallmark Movie perfect” but I couldn’t have asked for anything better. We got to spend time with the people we loved and create memories that to this day still make us laugh.
