 |
| Mary, circa 1980 |
One of my favorite Christmas traditions started inadvertently in my childhood and was picked up by my children without me directly influencing it. My four siblings and I used to fall fretfully to sleep on Christmas Eve. We didn't have visions of sugar plums dancing in our heads. Instead, we had butterflies of anticipation fluttering in our bellies, wondering what we would find under the tree the next morning. Typically, that next morning began for us as early as 1:00 a.m., and never later than 5:00 a.m. Our parents did not appreciate such an early morning following such a late night, and so they banned us from waking them before 6:00 a.m. But a ban on waking adults in the wee hours of the morning did not deter our own brains from rousing. Upon waking up in the middle of the night, we'd gather in one of our bedrooms. Sometimes the route to that bedroom meandered near the living room. We'd "unintentionally" steal glances through the French-door panes, seeing presents glowing beneath the warm, colorful lights of the tree. We never gawked, because we did want our stockings to be a surprise; but neither could we restrain ourselves from glimpsing. Once gathered in the bedroom, we would play board games and whisper guesses about what surprises might be waiting upstairs. We five had so much fun in those early Christmas mornings that you might think we'd lose track of the time. Fortunately, we all had powerful internal clocks, and we rarely missed the hour turning to six.
 |
Another Christmas tradition.
I was always irritated to have to play Joseph.
My name should have guaranteed me the lead female role, right? |
Kent's family never had problems sleeping in. Each year they celebrate a different country's Christmas on the Eve of the holiday, so the big party on the twenty-fourth kept them snoozing until late morning the next day. Apparently, though, my kids got my Christmas-clock gene. When Kassidy was in preschool and was, therefore, old enough to know what to look forward to, she and Madelyn were tapping on my shoulder at 4:00 a.m. to stir me from my "long" winter's nap. I told them they had to go back to bed until 6:00 a.m. Two hours later, we were all--myself included--disappointed to learn that Kent didn't plan to wake before eight. We compromised on seven. Then we shut our door on the children and locked it.
And so the tradition was passed on to the next generation.
 |
Ignoring the bent knee that all elementary girls do in photos,
how can you tell this picture was posed?
Madelyn is SMILING while cleaning the playroom. ;-) |
Rather than going back to bed, our preschoolers stayed up playing for three hours. In ensuing years, their younger siblings joined them. In those years, we had a loft that looked down on the front room. Our children loved to sleep there on Christmas Eve so they could peer through the railing to their presents and stockings below, trying to see what exactly was waiting for them. The loft doubled as a playroom, and the playroom doubled as a disaster zone. Toys, crayons, costumes, and remnants of contraband food were regularly strewn about creating a carpet of pain-inducing Legos and game pieces to cover the actual carpet. It literally took hours to sort and clean that room every time we attempted it. And so, that became part of the tradition, too. If the children wanted the privilege of sleeping in the playroom loft on Christmas Eve, said loft must be clean. And they did it! The nighttime hours of Christmas morning became a magical time when they rediscovered old toys and played board games by the rising light of the Christmas tree.
Eventually, the playroom became an actual bedroom, and a couple years ago, the loft was closed off for privacy. But our children have still not outgrown their childhood Christmas sleeping arrangements. Last year, we were traveling, so Cache didn't know that he had married into this strange tradition. He comes from a normal family that sleeps until 10:00 a.m. on holidays. He relented, though, when he realized how much Kassidy looked forward to having a slumber party with her siblings. When Kent and I went to bed this year, #5 had dragged the mattress from his bed all the way up the stairs to his sister's bedroom. When we parents went to bed at 11:00 p.m. the kids had not figured out sleeping arrangements beyond knowing they would all be in the former playroom. Madelyn had not even arrived yet. They worked it out sometime during the night, though, because on Christmas morning my children ages twelve through twenty-four (minus the 17-year-old in Colombia) padded down the stairs right on time at 7:00 a.m. They had all five slept in that tiny room on shared mattresses.
That was the start to a Christmas day that was unlike other years for me. We had a lovely and humble Christmas Eve meal with Kent's parents. Kent's mom had prepared copies of
The Book of Mormon for each of her siblings, children, and grandchildren to use in family scripture study. The copies came complete with an explanation of each person's favorite scripture. It was a simple gift that we already treasure. Christmas morning, it was gratifying to see my children love their gifts, even though I had somewhat strayed from their Pinterest wish lists. Cache made a delicious blueberry French toast for our breakfast. As adult children left to be with others, we enjoyed a slow-paced afternoon, and then reunited in the evening at my parents' home where we held a devotional for our Savior, dinner, gifts, the annual family video, and games.
It took forty-two years, but I finally experienced my first Christmas without excited butterflies. This was also the first year that I honestly didn't care that Kent didn't have the perfect, thoughtful, romantic present for me. (In fairness to him, a gift is on its way...after it returns from being returned to sender for an incomplete address. But he tried!) I am grateful for the gifts I did receive this year, and grateful that others seemed to enjoy what I selected for them. But I am mostly grateful that I have let go of Christmas expectations. The holiday this year was two days to just enjoy being with my family. It was two days to slow down, eat, laugh, play, and share testimony. It was two days of living in the moment of Christmas present. And it was wonderful.
