Decking the Halls

:: decking the halls, december 2010 ::

Retro Christmas Pics: Part 1

My first Christmas, 1973.  How about that good lookin' tree behind me?  My dad would take our beautiful trees into the garage and flock them.  Flock....them.  Then they were decorated from top to bottom with solid gold ornaments.  The best thing about my parents' divorce?  No more flocked trees or gold balls.

Jump ahead about four years.  My favorite things about this picture:  the fact that my dad is wearing a cowboy hat (if you know my dad, you know that this isn't normal), my dog Chevis, my OU stocking cap and white boots, and that there was actually enough snow in Oklahoma to make a snowman that big.  This picture reminds me that there was actually a point in my life when my dad was really into being...my dad. 

Not sure where this was taken or the exact year, but I have just one question for my mother: what the hell was up with that collar?  And why do I look so much like a boy?

 And there it is again.  The damn white and gold tree.  At least it sort of matched our lovely couch.  Don't I look happy?

Christmas Day dinner at my grandparents, 1983.  This picture was taken right before my grandmother told us all to go to hell and yelled at my grandfather that she wanted a divorce all because my cousin said she was too full to eat desert.  No, unfortunately I'm not kidding.  I'll save that story for another time.  Sometimes Christmas isn't always so Merry.

part 2 to come soon!

But it's a tradition.

Five years ago, thanks to Wilton's ready-made gingerbread house kit, I started the tradition of making our own gingerbread house for Christmas.  That first year we only did one since the Monkey was still a baby and the Cheese was only 3.  (We now have to make two.)  It was my first gingerbread house and I wanted it to be perfect.

What I remember about that first gingerbread house is being very exasperated by the whole process.  I wanted it to look one way, the Cheese wanted it to look another.  I was arguing with my 3 year old about a craft when I was supposed to be creating a beautiful holiday memory.  

But one thing that having children has taught me is that life is a lot more fun when you aren't trying to make it look perfect.

Doesn't mean that I haven't stopped trying.  

It's taken my 5 years to realize that this tradition isn't about ending up with a beautiful product.  They never look like the examples on the box.  It's about the process and letting whatever happens...happen.  Each boy gets his own and Mama's in charge of the "glue."  I've even stopped trying to make suggestions.  I just sit and do as I'm told.  

And in doing so, they actually come out looking pretty cute.  They look like they were made by children.  As they should.  To the people at Wilton, may I make a suggestion?  Quit putting pictures of perfect gingerbread houses on your boxes.  The original kid made kind are so much cuter.

Don't you think?

The only gift that matters.

:: me with Gan Gan and Grandaddy, Christmas 1975 ::

My maternal grandparents didn't have a lot of money, but you'd never know that when looking at the slew of presents that sat under their tree at Christmas time.

I remember as a kid being so excited to drive to Norman for Christmas because I knew my Gan Gan and Grandaddy had probably bought me some really good stuff.  Plus, there was nothing better than playing with my cousin, Lori, and drinking spiced tea during the holidays.  Nothing.

My grandmother was crazy about all of us and she used Christmas as a time to visibly show us.  She showed her love all year round--scratching our backs, giving us lots of hugs and kisses, making us our favorite tunafish.  But Christmas was a time that she showed us her love with gifts.

I know from stories my mom would tell that my Gan Gan would travel up to Oklahoma City, just to go to the Toys 'R' Us to find me the Snoopy and Belle clothes that I had to have or the stuffed Care Bears that I was dying for.  She wanted all of us to get exactly what we wanted and would rush around to make sure that it happened.

The holidays were important to my grandmother.  There was always too much food and too many presents and it filled their home to the brim.  They lived in a tiny house and we would all cram into around Christmas, trying our best not to step on the presents or each other.  The house was bursting and being an only child, that was what I loved the most about it.  It was full of good smells, warmth, love and family.

If I could travel back in time, I would go back to my grandparents' house during Christmas in a heartbeat.  I miss them so much this time of year, it makes me cry.  (I'm having some trouble even writing this.)

Which only helps me to remember what this holiday season is really all about.  The love of family.

That is the only gift that matters.