When I was little I liked to see a lot of wrapped Christmas presents under the tree. I don’t know why, but the thought of waking up at 5 a.m. (hyper child, remember) and walking into the living room and seeing a lot of presents under the silver tree was so exciting. We had one of those silver trees with a light box thingy that would shine on the tree and change its colors.
I was always the first to wake up. I never bothered to wake anyone else up, I would just go into the living room and sit down and admire the sight in awe. The room was filled with presents. Beautifully wrapped presents. Iwonder now if my mom got up around 5:00 to turn that light box on or if she had the thing on all night long. We could have all burned to death. Or the dog could have chewed through the cord and got electrocuted. Nothing worse on Christmas morning than seeing a dead dog lying among the Christmas presents. Sparky? Wake up, Sparky……..
You’d think since I was a hyper child that I would just dive into the gifts and rip the wrap off like I was in a race. But, I didn’t. I sat and tried to figure out what was in each box without picking it up. One year there was a present for me that couldn’t be wrapped. It was one of those little green turtles in a shallow habitat. I think they are illegal to own now. I loved seeing that Christmas morning. I named it Victor, because I guess I was vain and it was close to Vickie. But, that was fun to see.
I truly loved having Christmas morning to myself. Except for the one year when I was deceived.
I can’t remember when I quit believing in Santa Claus. I sure do remember when my son, Adam quit believing. When I told him that I didn’t know if Santa could be able to bring all the gifts that he had on his wish list because so many boys and girls also needed presents, he replied, “Well, maybe Santa should just write a check.” It wasn’t how he said it, it was how he looked at me. Like, “I figured it out, Mom. I am gifted, after all.” Now, Alex was a different story. I had to tell her. She was like 16 and I was afraid she would still want to sit and get her picture taken with Santa and Santa would be a happy camper. Ok, teasing, but she was older and I had to tell her. She burst into tears and said, “So, that means there isn’t an Easter bunny too?” God, I felt so bad. Parents, don’t ever do that. Just let their friends make fun of them behind their back and just wait. (sigh)
Anywho, back to me. I don’t know what year it was, but the huge amounts of presents under the tree stayed the same, but the contents changed. And this is how they changed.. I would open one package and find a box of oyster crackers. The hell you say. Yes, oyster crackers. They were my favorite snack, but damnit, Mom, shouldn’t those just go from shopping bag to cupboard? I mean, this isn’t the kitchen. She laughed and said, “Well, you said you wanted a lot of presents under the tree. Santa must know you pretty well.”
The next gift was a can of mandarin oranges. Shit. I am so screwed. My mom wrapped up my favorite foods! I mean, who does that? This was the exact moment when I realized there was no Santa Claus and also that my mom had some issues. I did have some great gifts, but I guess since I was getting older, the gifts were bigger and more expensive (like a record player, for example), so I couldn’t have as many gifts. My mom still wanted me to have that picture of a room filling over with gifts that she tried to get creative, I guess. I couldn’t wait for my friends to come up and see everything I got for Christmas, for in my Vickie area under the tree, among the nicer gifts, there were also Oyster crackers, mandarin oranges, Rice Krispies, Corn flakes, twinkies, shampoo, and the new TV Guide. I’m not done, I just can’t remember all the food items. Merry Frickin Christmas to me. I remember my friend, Ramaine, cracking up. I left those gifts under the tree to let her make fun of me. I mean, it was funny.
So, flash forward and it is time to put up the Christmas tree for my family. I used to string popcorn and I made a 30 foot garland and I was just a creative as they come. I loved decorating for Christmas. And the presents filled the room. I had informed my husband that Christmas comes but once a year, and that my kids were going to have a lot of presents. I put stuff on lay-away and bought a little at a time and loved wrapping the gifts. I made about 10 different kind of Christmas cookies. On top of that, we used to have Christmas Eve dinner at our house, with a sit-down meal using my Great Aunt Elisabeth’s nice china and 26 people. I was Susie Homemaker plus some. Things were going great until I had a Christmas morning visit from my in-laws.
My in-laws are fantastic people. I love them. There isn’t anything they wouldn’t do for you. Even though I am now divorced, they are still a huge part of my life. Well, one Christmas, they got up early and went out to the grandkids’ homes to see and film them opening their presents. So, my kids had to wait a few minutes until they got there. When they arrived, I was all excited for them to see the Hearth room. We had a fire blazing, Christmas lights on the tree shining, and the room full of beautifully wrapped presents. They walked into the room and my mother in-law laughed and exclaimed, “This is obscene.” At least she laughed heartily when she said it, but still, obscene? Obscene, to me means like peeing on someone, or that lewd crotch dancing that the kids do nowadays…but a room full of Christmas presents obscene?
Well, like a balloon deflated, I flitted out of the room, and started crying in our powder room. Obscene? I gathered my composure and when I walked back into the room, my husband was smiling at me like he couldn’t wait to laugh about what she just said. He understood me. I spoil my children. And that was ok with him.
Side Story.. Speaking of Barbie dolls…(ok, never talked about Barbie dolls, but wanted to mention this..) Alex wrote a letter to Santa one year and asked for a Barbie Gun Shop. She meant “Barbie Bubblegum Shop”, but that is not what she wrote. I laughed for 15 minutes on that one. Had to wait until she didn’t believe in Santa anymore so I could bring out the letter and make fun of her….I pictured Barbie in her little box, looking like the slut that she was, holding a machine gun, ala Patty Hearst. So glad my daughter couldn’t spell..
Well, I guess in the end, my best advice to parents on Christmas morning is…don’t have any presents…or dead dogs lying under the tree. It works out better in the end for everyone concerned. Well, except for the kids….but Christmas is not really about them, is it?
