“Seven Posts in Seven Days” 5 of 7
There has been some debate amongst my family and friends as to whether or not I am still “on track” with my mission to do 7 posts in 7 days. Now I haven’t gone back to confirm it yet, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t say 7 post in 7 consecutive days; a technicality, I know, but this rationalization lets me feel a little better about not having yet fulfilled my commitment. Nicola often says I should have been a lawyer. ; )
A little over a month has passed since my last entry. Now, with Christmas just around the corner, we, like everyone else, are getting busy with the activities of the season. Blah.
It’s intriguing how the whole Christmas-time experience has changed as I have gotten older. When I was a kid, I looked forward to Christmas with eager anticipation. Each year on December 1st I would begin counting down the days. I would start thinking about and looking forward to vacation from school and time together with the whole family, all the while not-so-quietly wondering what Santa might leave me under the tree that year. I loved playing outside in the snow or playing street hockey during the day and then warming up with hot chocolate and enjoying casual evenings playing games and watching movies.
I am now beginning to realize that much of the joy I experienced this time of year came from being a naïve, care free, default participant in someone else’s Christmas. That someone else was my Mom.
Each year, throughout the month of December, Christmas lights and decorations would just magically appear throughout the house; so too would the Christmas tree and stockings. The fridge and pantry would miraculously fill with an assortment of beverages, snacks and treats. Little bowls containing endless supplies of candies and nuts would materialize out of thin air on every table in the house and candy canes and eggnog were available anytime, anywhere, any place.
Christmas Day we would wake up to the smell of Egg McMooney’s (Dad’s specialty) and stumble down to the living room to feast our eyes on the bounty of perfectly wrapped treasures billowing out from beneath the tree. Our private photographer (Dad) would document the occasion as we kids ravaged the pretty paper to reveal what Santa had brought us. There was always that one package we could tell contained socks and underwear that we would leave to last ‘cause what kid wants new socks and underwear for Christmas? (I’ll never forget the one Christmas my brothers Justin and Josh got thong banana hammocks in their stockings…I know…that is just wrong on so many different levels). Eventually, we kids would retreat to our bunkers with our presents in tow and would return, when called, to enjoy a feast at the dining room table complete with festive serviettes, candles and holiday tunes playing in the background.
What happened?
Now as December 1st hits, so too does the pressure. What’s the budget for Christmas this year? What are we going to get for the people we love who really have all they need? Maybe we can get something for everyone if we don’t get anything for each other. When are we going to your parent’s house? When are we going to my parent’s house? When am I going to finish my book report for Papa Clark? When are we going to go get all this shopping done?
For the past week, as each day begins, either Nicola or I say, “let’s put up the tree tonight.” This, of course, involves me going into storage to find it and all its accompanying decorations, hauling it up to the living room, moving furniture and figuring out how it all goes together again. Something inevitably comes up and still it remains on the list of things to do.
It seems as though there is some “Christmas Party” or event going on every other night for either my work, Nicola’s work, our Church or with friends. I dread the traffic and battling ruthless mini-van driving moms in mall parking lots. (There is nothing sexier than a kid-toting momma giving you the finger as she cuts you off to grab that parking spot you’ve been waiting 15 minutes for) I loath long line-ups that lead to overworked, under trained and under paid teenagers at cash registers. “…uhhh…can I get a manger to till 3 please…and please bring security… I think this guy is about to lose it.” Wrapping paper??? What a waste of money. I have an idea. Those neighborhood newspapers that get shoved in our mailboxes every week before going directly to the trash would make great wrapping paper. There!!! I’ve reduced my carbon footprint tree huggers. And really… do we really know so little about each other that we have to cop out by buying obligatory gift-cards to box stores?
I digress. Please forgive my self-pitying rant. I guess I feel like Dorothy and her three wanting sidekicks seeing behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz.
Christmas, like Love, involves work. I realize now that, as a kid, I was very blessed, even spoiled during this time of year. Putting up the tree, stockings and decorations involved time and effort. This didn’t just happen. Somebody did it. There was nothing magical or miraculous about the fridge and pantry being stocked with holiday goodies. Somebody went shopping and somebody did the baking. Somebody had to keep refilling the candy & nut bowls and replenish the eggnog & candy cane inventories. Somebody had to wage war in mall parking lots to buy all the presents and stay up half the night on Christmas Eve to wrap each one with love knowing that we wouldn’t marvel at the wrapping but rather thoughtlessly destroy it to get to our prize. Somebody had to plan and prepare the holiday feast while we were out playing in the snow and somebody had to clean up the mess while we curled up with our hot chocolate watching our late-night movies.
I mourn the innocent naivety of my youth and the care-free Christmas experience. At the same time, I thank my Mom & Dad for making our Christmas time as a family so wonderful and memorable for as long as they did. As a parent, I now realize and accept that Christmas time is no longer about me and, as I take my place behind the curtain, I hope I can do as great a job as my parents did and make the experience of Christmas joyous and amazing for Maggie and her future siblings.
I would be remiss not to point out, in all this self indulgent rambling, how important it is, during this time of year, to consider how many people out there would love to have my “troubles”. As Nicola and I evaluate the modeling of our faith to Maggie, we really want to focus more on those in need and sharing our limited prosperity with a community full of lonely and suffering people. I firmly believe this is where we will rediscover the true spirit of Christmas.
Well that’s it. If you managed to get all the way through this, you must be bored or you took your Ridilyn this morning. Please leave a quick comment to say you’ve visited our site.
By the way, you want to know the most ironic thing I’ve come to discover in this dissection of the Christmas experience? At the age of 34, I am somewhat embarrassed to say that I would love nothing more than to get some nice new underwear and comfy socks for Christmas. Please Grandma… no thong banana hammocks…they make me look like a pirate.
JRM 12/09/2008
There has been some debate amongst my family and friends as to whether or not I am still “on track” with my mission to do 7 posts in 7 days. Now I haven’t gone back to confirm it yet, but I’m pretty sure I didn’t say 7 post in 7 consecutive days; a technicality, I know, but this rationalization lets me feel a little better about not having yet fulfilled my commitment. Nicola often says I should have been a lawyer. ; )
A little over a month has passed since my last entry. Now, with Christmas just around the corner, we, like everyone else, are getting busy with the activities of the season. Blah.
It’s intriguing how the whole Christmas-time experience has changed as I have gotten older. When I was a kid, I looked forward to Christmas with eager anticipation. Each year on December 1st I would begin counting down the days. I would start thinking about and looking forward to vacation from school and time together with the whole family, all the while not-so-quietly wondering what Santa might leave me under the tree that year. I loved playing outside in the snow or playing street hockey during the day and then warming up with hot chocolate and enjoying casual evenings playing games and watching movies.
I am now beginning to realize that much of the joy I experienced this time of year came from being a naïve, care free, default participant in someone else’s Christmas. That someone else was my Mom.
Each year, throughout the month of December, Christmas lights and decorations would just magically appear throughout the house; so too would the Christmas tree and stockings. The fridge and pantry would miraculously fill with an assortment of beverages, snacks and treats. Little bowls containing endless supplies of candies and nuts would materialize out of thin air on every table in the house and candy canes and eggnog were available anytime, anywhere, any place.
Christmas Day we would wake up to the smell of Egg McMooney’s (Dad’s specialty) and stumble down to the living room to feast our eyes on the bounty of perfectly wrapped treasures billowing out from beneath the tree. Our private photographer (Dad) would document the occasion as we kids ravaged the pretty paper to reveal what Santa had brought us. There was always that one package we could tell contained socks and underwear that we would leave to last ‘cause what kid wants new socks and underwear for Christmas? (I’ll never forget the one Christmas my brothers Justin and Josh got thong banana hammocks in their stockings…I know…that is just wrong on so many different levels). Eventually, we kids would retreat to our bunkers with our presents in tow and would return, when called, to enjoy a feast at the dining room table complete with festive serviettes, candles and holiday tunes playing in the background.
What happened?
Now as December 1st hits, so too does the pressure. What’s the budget for Christmas this year? What are we going to get for the people we love who really have all they need? Maybe we can get something for everyone if we don’t get anything for each other. When are we going to your parent’s house? When are we going to my parent’s house? When am I going to finish my book report for Papa Clark? When are we going to go get all this shopping done?
For the past week, as each day begins, either Nicola or I say, “let’s put up the tree tonight.” This, of course, involves me going into storage to find it and all its accompanying decorations, hauling it up to the living room, moving furniture and figuring out how it all goes together again. Something inevitably comes up and still it remains on the list of things to do.
It seems as though there is some “Christmas Party” or event going on every other night for either my work, Nicola’s work, our Church or with friends. I dread the traffic and battling ruthless mini-van driving moms in mall parking lots. (There is nothing sexier than a kid-toting momma giving you the finger as she cuts you off to grab that parking spot you’ve been waiting 15 minutes for) I loath long line-ups that lead to overworked, under trained and under paid teenagers at cash registers. “…uhhh…can I get a manger to till 3 please…and please bring security… I think this guy is about to lose it.” Wrapping paper??? What a waste of money. I have an idea. Those neighborhood newspapers that get shoved in our mailboxes every week before going directly to the trash would make great wrapping paper. There!!! I’ve reduced my carbon footprint tree huggers. And really… do we really know so little about each other that we have to cop out by buying obligatory gift-cards to box stores?
I digress. Please forgive my self-pitying rant. I guess I feel like Dorothy and her three wanting sidekicks seeing behind the curtain in the Wizard of Oz.
Christmas, like Love, involves work. I realize now that, as a kid, I was very blessed, even spoiled during this time of year. Putting up the tree, stockings and decorations involved time and effort. This didn’t just happen. Somebody did it. There was nothing magical or miraculous about the fridge and pantry being stocked with holiday goodies. Somebody went shopping and somebody did the baking. Somebody had to keep refilling the candy & nut bowls and replenish the eggnog & candy cane inventories. Somebody had to wage war in mall parking lots to buy all the presents and stay up half the night on Christmas Eve to wrap each one with love knowing that we wouldn’t marvel at the wrapping but rather thoughtlessly destroy it to get to our prize. Somebody had to plan and prepare the holiday feast while we were out playing in the snow and somebody had to clean up the mess while we curled up with our hot chocolate watching our late-night movies.
I mourn the innocent naivety of my youth and the care-free Christmas experience. At the same time, I thank my Mom & Dad for making our Christmas time as a family so wonderful and memorable for as long as they did. As a parent, I now realize and accept that Christmas time is no longer about me and, as I take my place behind the curtain, I hope I can do as great a job as my parents did and make the experience of Christmas joyous and amazing for Maggie and her future siblings.
I would be remiss not to point out, in all this self indulgent rambling, how important it is, during this time of year, to consider how many people out there would love to have my “troubles”. As Nicola and I evaluate the modeling of our faith to Maggie, we really want to focus more on those in need and sharing our limited prosperity with a community full of lonely and suffering people. I firmly believe this is where we will rediscover the true spirit of Christmas.
Well that’s it. If you managed to get all the way through this, you must be bored or you took your Ridilyn this morning. Please leave a quick comment to say you’ve visited our site.
By the way, you want to know the most ironic thing I’ve come to discover in this dissection of the Christmas experience? At the age of 34, I am somewhat embarrassed to say that I would love nothing more than to get some nice new underwear and comfy socks for Christmas. Please Grandma… no thong banana hammocks…they make me look like a pirate.
JRM 12/09/2008
