I hope it’s OK to write about Christmas traditions as we make the last left over turkey sandwich and put the festive placemats away for another year. This is the first 1/2 hour that I have had to myself since the 24th of December where I didn’t have to cook or clean or prepare to cook or clean and this 30 minutes I am stealing in the corner of the ski lodge at the bottom of the hill while Mr. Husband is out on the slopes and the Gaffer frolics happily in the daycare having finished her first day of Snow Bear Camp.
This tradition of the Brooks family, celebrating on the 26th, instead of the 25th is not one that I especially like but it is what works for our family. The step-kids spend Christmas Eve and Day with their mom and celebrate with that side of their family. We do not flip back and forth from one Christmas to the next as some families do, they are always with their mom. We do Christmas on the 26th. And it is a real Christmas, they call as soon as they wake up and Mr. Husband picks them up. They arrive, usually in their pj’s which I love, but this year they all got dressed, and find our house exactly as Santa has left it. Stockings, gifts, presents under the tree…it’s all there.
And we celebrate as though it is the 25th. The Gaffer is still young enough that we have managed to hide this little calendar fraud from her, but that may not be the case next year.
The kids are real troopers, they fully submit to another turkey dinner with all the trimmings, crackers and hats and a day laden with Christmas carols. They don’t complain about missing Boxing Day shopping and yet another day of family-filled activities.
It is as great as it can be, but I don’t really like it.
Christmas Day is always a let down. I spend the day cleaning up from Christmas Eve (we host various friends from year to year, depending on who is separated from family and friends) and preparing for our Christmas Day. And I get grumpy. There’s really no reason, except that it just doesn’t feel right.
I want to watch a Christmas movie as a family and then all go to bed waiting for Santa.
I want to creep around late at night and help out ole St. Nick, nervous that someone will wake up.
I want to hear the kids making sounds outside our room, trying to wake us in anticipation.
I want to be the first to open gifts and not have to worry about the comparisons that will be made with the tear of each piece of tissue.
I want the genuine excitement of Christmas and not the tired worn out efforts of the repeat.
I want to have lots of people around and have them drop by all day and say hello and have a glass of egg nog.
I know all of this is on me. Our Christmas is excellent and I am certain we celebrate the best we can with what works for our family. It just doesn’t sit well with me, but that’s my problem and something that hopefully I will be able to work out by next Christmas.