The Christmas Change- A Guest Post by Paige Voorhes

The post below is written by my friend Paige who lives in Texas. She has kindly written a few lines about how Christmas is celebrated in her family. Please welcome Paige to the blog people!

Merry Christmas from Paige and me!

The Bilge Master

In my family, Christmas is not a day- Christmas is a season.  As a child, my mother transformed the house.  The décor that filled the shelves, covered the walls and draped over the furniture were all replaced come December with varying degrees of winter’s magic; a snow-covered village on the table, an oversized stocking on the door, Santa Claus in every room.  Mom loves Santa.  He sits by the television painting toys, his face smiles up at you from couch pillows, and he stands regally atop the Christmas Tree, watching over us all. 

The tree itself was most often artificial, and Dad would drag it out from wherever it had been stored all year, untie whatever was gripping the torn box closed, and set it up piece by piece in the corner of the living room.  He would then drape lights all across the fluffed out branches (until pre-lit trees blessed this world), hoping all the bulbs still worked after being unceremoniously thrown into a box last January, left to tangle amongst itself.  Once that was over, my mother would wrap the tree like a present with a garland or ribbon.  Only then was the tree ready for ornaments.

The ornaments themselves were a personal favorite of mine.  Some were simple- a wooden cut out of a nativity scene, for example.  Others were a bit jollier, like the three slice-of-life Santa’s Workshop scenes depicting various stages of Santa’s day.  There were the homemade ornaments my siblings and I brought back annually from elementary school, looking more and more tattered every year.  There were the ornaments that predated my birth, personal favorites of my parents from their childhood (like my late grandmother’s glass ornaments or my mother’s Garfield cat).  Ornaments representing pets, hobbies and birthdays filled the gaps, and the ceramic heart symbolizing my grandfather, gone before I was able to meet him, meant a lot to my mother.

Christmas wasn’t just about the home transformation, either.  In the kitchen was where we made our magic.  My Grandma and mother baked tons of cookies, from traditional cut-out sugar cookies (a favorite with us children, who decorated them once they cooled) to gingerbread men to cookies topped with cherries or chocolate kisses, to the nut filled ones I avoided.  All month our kitchen was filled with the delicious scent of baking.  It would peak on Christmas day, where every morning my mother would make us all a Monkey Bread cake, to eat whilst opening presents.  In the most recent years the cookie baking has died down, but every Christmas morning I help my mother make that Monkey Bread, and every year our growing family eats it in the living room, surrounded by gifts.

Traditionally for my family, Christmas Eve was spent at my Grandmother’s house.  Her, my aunt, and my family spent the time together opening presents from each other.  There wasn’t a large tree- my grandma had one, but it was only a few feet tall, and she would cover it up with a trash bag every year for storage in the attic, ornaments and all- but I do remember a golden bell she’d hang from the door frame.  If you pulled the cord it would sing carols.  I loved it.

On the short drive back to our place my parents would point out red dots in the sky and claim that it was Rudolph.  We would beg them to drive faster, get us home so we can get to bed!  If Santa comes and we’re awake, he won’t leave us presents!  We would pile into the house, knocking the snow off our shoes, and run to the computer.  Mom would pull up the Santa Tracker, and we would see exactly where he was.  It was a miracle we were able to sleep.

One year I woke up early to my father sleeping on the couch near the tree, our video camera propped up in the other room pointing towards the front door.  When I woke him up he sleepily explained that he had fallen asleep trying to catch Santa, and the video camera that he was hoping to record him on had run out of batteries.  Drat!  Luckily, they were able to replace the batteries and film us opening the presents the next morning.  You know, since the camera was already there.

Something fun about Santa is that for our house, he would use special Santa tags and wrapping paper.  I didn’t notice it as much when I was younger, but when I noticed that Mom and Dad’s presents came wrapped differently, it was another magical charm that made Christmas special.

When you reach adulthood, Christmas changes.  Santa doesn’t bring adults presents.  But Santa doesn’t need to.  Because in adulthood, it is your turn to play Santa.

Now, you get to buy presents for your loved ones.  You get to be responsible for their smiles and happiness.  And just as you give, they give back.  Christmas becomes less centered on you and your joy, and more centered on the joy all around.

We moved away from my Grandma many years ago, but I still have a Christmas Eve tradition.  My husband’s family always celebrates with family gifts on Christmas Eve, just like we did as children.  So every year, my husband and I buy gifts for every niece and nephew that we have.  Sometimes we buy a present for every adult, and sometimes we play Secret Santa, and we love to play a present swap game.  Everyone brings something for dinner, we have warm drinks, and when it’s time to open presents the room becomes a chaotic explosion of wrapping paper and cardboard.

My family gathers the morning of, while my in-laws are opening Santa’s gifts at home.  My sister’s family gets a visit from Santa, and afterwards we gather around our tree and swap presents we have bought each other.  We always open presents in the same order- youngest to oldest. Everyone sees what everyone opened, and opening in a round gives us plenty of time to enjoy our hot, gooey Monkey Bread paired with egg nogg or mimosas.  It takes a while to get through everyone, but that just means more time together as a family.

Some traditions stay the same over time.  New traditions form with age.  Christmas is an ever flowing constant in my life, and I love it even more as the years go by.