A South Texas Christmas

I was behind on everything this year. There just wasn't any pressure to get things accopmlished. Cheeseballs and fudge (thanks Paula Deen!) were finally conceived on the 23rd. I have a slight cheeseball addiction: rice crispies, cayenne pepper, shredded cheese, a little flour and butter, they are the seasonal treat I look forward to the most. So if I consumed, oh, let's say 14 of them myself throughout that day, you understand why now. The fudge is the easiest recipe I've ever used. A fourth of a block of Velveeta cheese will make anything taste good, right?

Santa came, of course, this year. She worked very hard on Christmas Eve. Apparently, a little elf told me, she had to put together the much ignored art easel FOUR times before it was right. Overall the instruments are the favored gifts. For Winston, an accordian and harmonica, and a pipe whistle and violin for Wednesday. The boys terms are slightly different. Winston shouted "It's a recordian!!" upon seeing his gift, while Wednesday calls the violin his "aguitah-yee" and the bow his "by-oh-lyn".

There was a short time in the past week when I was worried there would be nothing under the tree for me. I know it sounds selfish, and I guess it really is. But it would hurt if the love of my life completely ignored the gift giving rituals of Christmas while I spent time choosing things for him and his children. He told me not to worry, and after breakfast with a friend and a trip to Grandma's house with the boys so Mrs. Santa could work on the damn easel, he finally left to do some shopping. Breakast, Grandma's, and his birthday all happened on Christmas Eve. Somehow he pulls it out every year with the late shopping. I think he likes the thrill of finding such delectable gifts at the VERY LAST MINUTE.

My husband has very interesting wrapping skills when it comes to presents. Bags are the easiest, but inside each of my "bag ladies" as he called them, I found things like papertowels, empty candy bags, old tissue paper, and target bags. I look forward to seeing what he crams in the bags to cover the gifts, and in one bag, containing a Liza Minelli CD no less, there was a lone Papa-sizd sock! It promptly went on my foot, and flopped around my toes for the rest of the morning. Next year, I'll write a little reminder on it and hang in on the tree. I have a story about socks as tree decor, but that's for another time.
So after Santa and family gifts, I talked to my parents and brother on the phone, and made our traditional Christmas breakfast. Santa always brings big navel oranges and juice in each stocking, which are then part of our morning meal. To complete it, I open a can of huge cinnamon rolls and bake them off, and heat up a couple of quiches. It's fast and easy, but different from our normal eating routine enough to make it special. Winston is very picky, and so to get him to eat the quiche I had to explain that it was like "a frittata and a pot pie mixed together". He devoured it, thank you baby Jesus.

General playtime commenced after breakfast, and then a nap. A much needed nap. Winston only slept for 45 minutes though, so I sent him to my husband and kept sleeping with the baby in my lap. After a shower for Mommy and stripping half the jammies off of the boys, we went outside when everyone woke up. It was ironic, I guess, watching the babies run around in their undies on Christmas Day when I'd been almost jealous of the snow pictures everywhere online. But the joy they felt outweighed everything else. They had a system going; Winston would run around with the hose, and just when he'd get it spraying really high or far, Wednesday would turn off the water. "Brother, do it again!", he'd shout, and Wednesday would turn the water back on and squeal. Watching his big brother until just the right moment, he'd then shut it off again with a little dance. Santa brought a pop-up soccer goal that got a little use, and a golf game that both of the kids enjoyed. Standing behind my sons, showing them how to hold a golf club and spread their feet brought back memories of my Dad doing the same thing with me. I think he'd be proud of my technique, as everytime I set them up, they got a hole in one.

Three rituals were left undone this year. My husband got no gifts for his Christmas Eve birthday. Yes, I realize I was just complaining in an earlier paragraph about my fear of being ingored during the holidays, but if you could have seen his face when I told him, you'd understand. He's not a gifty person, by any means. So announcing the lack of gifts got me the biggest hug I'd had all week from my husband. I done good. This isn't to say that we didn't celebrate. I dressed up and put a bow on my head, I made him a Feast of the Seven Fishes, and dedicated a short post to him at my home place. Gifts, without giving gifts. It was perfect for him.
We also neglected to open the box from my Nanny on Christmas Eve and read the Christmas story. Those were both remedied on Christmas Day. The sock monkies from my maternal grandparents were much loved, especially by Wednesday. "Hi Monkey! You a monkey!", is exactly what he said before he smothered the creature in little boy hugs and kisses. I held my own need to read the Christ's birth story in the back of my mind as we headed to my MIL house Christmas afternoon. She had surgery last week, so I wasn't expecting anything but to share the love of the day with her. Tears were almost spilling by the time we left though. She had precious cards for the boys, and an envelope of cash for us to spend on things of our choosing. But what did me in were the family heirlooms that she gave us. When we walked in she pressed a story Bible into my hands that was given to her as a child. Her mother read it to her, she read in to my husband and his brothers, and I sat on the couch with Winston and read him the Christmas story. That alone was already too much, but then she pulled out the turkey platter, beautifully hand painted, that had belong to her mother and offered it to me. She even said, under her breath, that she was glad it was going to me and not the other DIL. My heart was jumping up and down at being favored, but I kept my trap shut. A cookie plate, that in her words, "Is so pretty it just needs cookies on it!", was also given to us. I was without words. Tears held back as I went to pull Wednesday off the stairs he was trying to climb. I hugged her tight when we left, and getting into the car, I could still smell her lotion on my skin where we had touched. She is a good lady, and I love her dearly.



There are other memories I've left out. We made cookies for Santa, read The Night Before Christmas, all the regular Chistmasy things. But the ones I've recalled here are thes I want my mind to remember as well as my heart. It was a most special Christmas.


P.S. To see the pictures, follow the link to the post at OpenSalon! Thanks my lovelies... http://open.salon.com/content.php?cid=69584