Well, it really is that time of year. Even I can’t ignore the Christmas cheer that is permeating the air. Somehow knowing it’s Christmas makes me smile through the less pleasant things the season brings, like frostbite risks, windchill warnings, snow-covered cars and decreasing bank accounts, just with the reminders of twinkly multicoloured lights, sharing gifts, and sipping hot cocoa after a hearty meal.
I’ve been thinking a lot about what usually happens for me during the holiday season, and what little quirks my family has picked up. Some may call them traditions, but I honestly think a few of them are so weird, I can’t refer to them by something so harmless.
First comes the decorating. It’s typical for every member of the family (aside from those who are out of town for an extended period) to help with decorating the tree. It’s usually a huge undertaking for a Saturday or Sunday afternoon. Boxes upon boxes of ornaments are carted upstairs and my mother tries to sort them out and decides which ones are worth hanging up. Due to my mother being a bit of a pack rat, she has kept just about every ornament that isn’t irreparably broken. The Christmas tree often becomes a display of every elementary school craft my sister and I ever took part in; even the glittery construction paper star that proudly proclaims that my five-year-old self’s great Christmas wish was to bounce a ball. The only things that don’t get hung up are plush ornaments, as my dog tends to enjoy jumping up and tugging these ornaments off the tree.
While this is going on, we’re usually playing Christmas music. The one CD my parents seemed to own that fit the season was a collection of Christmas covers from Boney M. Every song is ridiculously disco, from Little Drummer Boy to Zion’s Daughter. My sister and I have desperately tried to replace the CD with Christmas songs that are perhaps not as dated, but no matter what we try, we always somehow find ourselves listening to the CD anyways.
Next comes the ‘traditional’ Christmas drinks. Some enjoy sipping hot cocoa around a fire, but with my family, we usually have to add a little something extra. What do you mean, the song doesn’t go “Deck the halls with boughs of brandy?” That’s the best way to get my family jolly, anyways.
As for myself, I don’t usually drink much, but I think when I was in elementary school, my parents let me try (non-alcoholic) eggnog. I have no idea what it was before. Maybe the sugar, maybe just the party atmosphere. All I know is that it used to make me crazy and hyperactive, to the point where it was like a Pavlovian response. Mention eggnog around me and I wasn’t going to stop moving for at least three hours. Thankfully, I’ve gotten over that stage in my life, but eggnog is still my go-to drink, and it’s become a tradition for me to grab a carton the minute it shows up in stores.
Next comes Christmas Eve, which is always spent with my massive extended family. It used to be spent at my late grandmother’s house, but now it’s been shifted so it’s held at my aunt’s home. I think most of the traditions there are rather typical: I say the dinner prayer (because I always do), everyone enjoys the food together and the adults help clean up, and then everyone gathers around the tree for gifts. Perhaps what we do that’s a bit different is our annual gift exchange. Everyone brings a gift, and then each person has a turn to either pick a gift from under a tree or steal a gift that someone else has already opened. At the end, everyone has a gift.
Of course, when my sister and I were young teenagers, we wanted to be adults and participate in the game… but we also wanted to get what we actually wanted for Christmas instead of a Snuggie. My mother dealt with this by buying gifts “for the gift exchange” that were clearly just gifts we wanted, and then not-so-subtly telling us which gift we should pick. It was a great tactic, but it got a little obvious when video games for the device only my sister had were included in the exchange.
Christmas Day is a time for just immediate family to open gifts. I have a few traditions for this day. First, I pretty much barely sleep. I get up in the middle of the night to stare at the lights on the tree. When I was younger, I also had the ulterior motive of checking if Santa had arrived, but now, it’s just so ingrained in me that I check anyways.
The next time I wake up, usually about five or six in the morning before anyone else has moved, I’m awake. And it’s Christmas. Which means it’s traditionally time to make my parents’ lives hell. I would accomplish this by pretending to be a patient daughter and just using the time I was awake to sort out the presents under the tree by family member. This entertained me for all of five minutes, and then I’d wake my sister up. After a bit of excited whispering, my parents would finally be unable to ignore us and would have to get up. I am not ashamed to admit I still wake up pretty early on Christmas, but usually just out of restlessness and not out of any desire to get presents faster.
As bizarre as my holiday traditions are, I do feel a little more of the Christmas spirit just remembering them. Thinking about family and all the special times we’ve shared warms me up more than any spiked hot cocoa would.
