Christmas Recollections

In my family, we have our own set of traditions when it comes to the holidays. For example--Christmas Eve is our only extended family holiday time. We are out almost all day visiting relatives, drinking eggnog, giving and receiving gifts, and generally making jolly with our relatives. I kid you not, from noon until well after midnight we are out at different parties. We try and fit it in all in one day, because in the last ten years or so, we instituted our "Family Sloth Day" on Christmas day. We get up when we want--which in recent years involves my parents dragging us out of bed around ten; a funny role reversal-- unwrap gifts at a leisurely pace--we usually take turns unwrapping what Santa brought us, so we can all see each other's gifts--eat a glorious breakfast, and then lay around in our pajamas all day watching movies until its time to make our Christmas day feast--lobster tails, filet mignon and all the trimmings. It is seriously the best day of the year, because we actually take the day to bond with eachother instead of stressing about running around and having to be somewhere.



I've actually been tempted to buy these for my family just for Christmas day

After all the gifts are unwrapped, we also enjoy sitting around recalling past Christmases. This year was a little different as this was the first Christmas my brother-in-law participated in "Family Sloth Day." Obviously no stories were left on the shelf, so I thought I'd share one of my families favorite Christmas memories.

When we were younger, my parents were pretty strict about going to Mass on Sundays and holidays. "If we are paying thousands of dollars in Catholic School Tuition every year, you're sitting in those pews every Sunday," my Mom used to say. Christmas Mass was the ultimate sign of dedication and faith in our community. We were up, dressed in our Christmas finest and on our way to Mass after barely catching a glimpse at what Santa brought us that year. Needless to say, we all hated it. And resented the fact that we were drug away from our toys when the fun had only just begun. Sitting through an hour (sometimes two, depending on the priest that morning) mass was pure torture and we were always itching to get out and home.

As we got older and a little more daring, my sisters and I would sneak one of our new toys into Mass with us, to help eleviate the boredom. Usually it was something small--something that was easily hidden in a pocket or in your hand. I actually became quite the expert at hiding books under my coat and sticking them in hymnals once we were seated in church. To the outsider, I must've looked like a very devoted Catholic reading up on her hymns during mass, when in reality I was discovering that Harry Potter was actually a wizard and would be going to a wizarding school called Hogwarts.

One year in particular, my youngest sister took this it to a whole new level, and instituted a new "shake down" of toys before we left the house for Christmas Mass.

About 15 years ago (which makes me feel unbelievably old when I write it out) there was this British import, kid TV show called Bananas in Pajamas. It involved giant--not even kidding you, life-sized--bananas, in yes white and blue striped pajamas and the crazy hijunx that they got in to every day.

Shocks me that crap like this used to entertain kids!

I was 12 years old when this little show shot to fame, so I obviously didn't watch it. But my youngest sister, who was 7, was obsessed. She watched the show every morning before she went to school and even started eating bananas. These dancing human-fruit even had their own theme song;



Bananas in pajamas are coming down the stairs,

Bananas in pajamas are coming down in pairs,

Bananas in pajamas are chasing teddy bears,
Find More lyrics at www.sweetslyrics.com

'cause on Tuesdays they all try to catch them unawares

boom boom pow boom boom pow

*And yes, I did have to look this up!*

This show was on constant loop at our house, to the point that my Dad started singing it at all hours. In fact, to this day my Dad uses this song as our wake-up call.

Obviously that year for Christmas, dolls from this show were the hot item. And when my sister saw that they had 2 foot, plush dolls that sang the theme song when you hugged them, it was at the top of her letters to Santa. It was really the only thing that she wanted that year. She begged and pleaded, sat on Santa's lap numerous times and made sure she was extra good all year round.

Sure enough, Santa brought her the set.



These things were huge!

My sister was overjoyed and literally hugged these dolls so hard that we thought she was going to wear out the batteries.

But as good God-fearing Catholics, the fun was short lived and we had to get to 10:30 mass--which at our church is usually the most popular mass to go to and it's always packed and standing room only. I remember my mom went crazy that morning trying to get us ready and out the door by 9:45. She was determined to get seats that year, as standing for 1+ hours is not fun. Somehow, we were all in the car and made it to mass at the precise time she wanted us to be. We even got our own pew right in the middle of church.

About an hour later, we were well into Christmas day mass-- which is filled with a lot of pomp, circumstance and carols. I'll admit, it's actually one of the only times I enjoy going to mass as an adult. Everything is so pretty and the mass itself is beautiful. But when you're 12 and your mother had just confiscated your new book, it was awful.

After standing for what seemed like forever, the priest told us to "Be Seated" as he began his homily. In unison, everyone in church pushed up the kneelers, and sat down on the ancient wooden pews. The priest had barely gotten 3 sentences out, when my sister decided to sit back into the pew and a sound started emulating from where she was sitting. Soft at first, but got louder and louder as the priest took breaths in his speech, a song started to play with the audible words;

"Bananas in Pajamas are coming down the stairs

Bananas in Pajamas are coming down in pairs....."

The song that my family knew by heart. The song that we had all just heard only an hour before. The song that was coming from our pew. Or more precisely, from beneath the back of my sister's winter coat that she still happened to be wearing.

In the chaos of getting 4 kids fed, dressed and out the door on time my mother neglected to take a good look at all her kids. My youngest sister cleverly hid her new, 2 foot toy beneath her coat. And by clever I mean she put on her coat and shoved the stuffed animal beneath and behind her back while my mom wasn't looking. No one seemed to notice the hump on her back or the two little sneakers hanging from the bottom of her coat as we walked in to church. And she almost got away with it, until she forgot it was there and sat back too hard in the pew.

The second the song played, my mother's eyes bugged out of her head and her face went ghost white. She instantly looked over to my sister, who was acting like she didn't hear it but continued to lean against it. By the time the song played a second time, the entire congregation was either looking at us or straining their necks to see where it was coming from. The priest even stopped his homily, looked up and said, "Am I the only one who hears that?"

My mom was mortified and started hitting my dad to get the toy off my sister. He was in a fit of hysterical laughter and could barely keep himself quiet, let alone grab my sister. The tears were literally rolling down his face, which only made all of us laugh and my mom didn't find it funny in the least. Then my Dad started struggling with my sister's coat but could not get her arms out of it, since the coat was pretty snug with the added "person" in the back of it. Once the homily was over and the congregation stood up, my mom grabbed my sister's hand and marched us all out the door. Naturally, the rest of us followed laughing even harder.

That Christmas will forever live in infamy with my family. It was the last Christmas my mom rushed us out the door Christmas morning without checking and de-toying us before we left the house. We also started going to the Christmas Eve Vigil instead--I'm not sure if it was to avoid noisy toys, or prevent any further issues on Christmas day. It also was the last year any of us recieved a toy that sang a song when you hugged it. We all still laugh hysterically when we recall this Christmas; my mom even joins in now that the sting of  public moritification has worn off. I actually asked my sister this year why she did it; her answer was simple, "I just loved my Bananas in Pajamas."

Hope you all had a great Holiday and a safe New Year!

THANK YOU for reading my Blog!

Timing for Butterflies

As most dating women are aware, there are two very big dilemmas we are faced with in those first few dates. The source of which takes hours and even days of thorough thought and pre-planning. No, I am not referring to wardrobe or hairstyles for the big night--although both a pretty key and are painstakingly planned, changed then decided on with our girlfriends or while looking in a mirror-- or even deciding the actual location or event--which let me add should totally be the man's domain; we have enough stress as it is with wardrobe, guys need to take the reigns on that one.

No, I am referring to those two things that are all dependent on timing and "the right feel" for the situation. If timing is off, or if you pull the cord too early, future dates could be canceled before they are even planned.


I am referring to 

1. Paying the Bill

2. First Kiss

 And lately I've been trying to figure out both for myself. 

In my merry-go-round of a dating life--where I'm always bringing new guests on and kicking old ones off--I recently started dating a new guy. We've gone on a few dates at this point, and I'm really enjoying myself and his company. But now I'm faced with the above dilemma; Should I offer to pay/ help pay for the dinner or activity bill? And when is it too early for that essential first kiss?

Let me go into each a bit.

My new guy is a union construction worker, who like most union members are subject to a lot of lay offs and are frequently unemployed. At the present time (and until last week) he was in the midst of one of those lay-offs, which is awful at any time of year but hits a little harder during the holidays. So we've gone out a few times--usually some sort of activity and then dinner--which I know can be pricey. Every time we have gone out, I have tried to be a bit conservative in choices, but as time went on I really started feeling guilty. Like, what if he can't pay his rent this month because he's taken me out? Trust me I know how it is--I went through my own 3-month stint of unemployment where I depended on those UCBenefits from the government. I don't know how I would've coped if I just started dating someone while I was in dyer money straights. It's very stressful.

But in normal circumstances, I wouldn't. Maybe I'm old fashioned and this notion may be archaic --and feminists may be rolling in their graves-- but I think men should solely pay for those first few dates. It goes back to old courting rituals naturally, but the man should take care of his woman. And honestly, if I'm going through the effort of getting all dolled up--which ladies, let's be honest, it is an effort to look pretty at all times, especially on first dates when we over-scrutinize everything-- I kind of expect the rest to be in the guys hands. If I'm taking all that time to impress you, when you're basically pulling the cleanest shirt out of your closet and slapping on some cologne, then you should treat me like a queen for the night. And in most instances, the guys want to pay and take of everything. It shows their prowess or some crap like that.

But on the other hand, some like the girl to at least offer. One of my girl friends will always at least reach for the check once it's placed on the table. Or she'll take her wallet out and have it in eye view of her date. I like to call it the "wallet jingle". She's not doing it for show, trust me she's an accountant and usually makes twice the money her dates do, but she genuinely wants to pay. Again, guys like girl to at least offer. But I think if a guy actually takes a girl up on those offer--especially on the first few dates--the girl should high-tail it out of there and never answer his calls. That is what I refer to as a cheap-bastard. And beyond rude.

My situation is a bit different because I know he's strapped for cash. The last two dates we went on, I really struggled with whether or not to grab the check. To not even let him touch it. But I also don't want to insult him. I know a lot of pride is associated with paying for dates and "taking care of your woman." To not be able to, is a kick to the balls and I think most good guys (and I say GOOD meaning the keepers) want to show their date that they are boyfriend material.

So I guess my only real solution is to wait and see, then just offer at some point. Like if we go out multiple times in one week--which this coming week we are--I'm going to try help pay. Maybe not for meals, because I know that's usually the bigger deal, but for anything else we do. Really, it's only fair. With one of my exes that's how we did it--if I went to his house, he paid for the date and if he came to my house I paid for the date. Kind of evened itself out with gas and tolls we both had to pay to get to eachother, especially if its a long distance thing.

Now for kissing.

It's usually an unspoken rule that you don't kiss on a first date. That girls who kiss on the first date don't get a third date. And you shouldn't kiss anyone until there is an emotional connection of some sort, and that there's no way you can have that within one date--or as my mom says "Don't kiss a guy til you know his last name." I tend to agree with this notion. The best first kisses are always the anticipated ones. The ones where you are thinking about it the whole time you are with them. When you stare at their lips and wander what it would be like to brush against them. You need to wait for those butterflies to build to a point where you feel like you will physically burst if you can't kiss him.

But on the other hand, waiting too long can be detrimental. For me, a lot rides on that first kiss. If you are a sloppy kisser, it's just not gonna work. No matter what kind of chemistry we may have built, it just won't matter if the kiss isn't there. It's a complete turn off and something that you really can't do-over. The absolute worst first kiss I ever had happened on a first date where we were jelling pretty well. Then he kissed me (or came at me unexpectedly with his lips) and it was awful. He literally licked my lips and thought it was sexy. All I wanted to do was go home and wash my face. I never talked to him again after that. So luckily I didn't waste a lot of time on him, I knew right after that kiss that it wasn't going to work.

So where is the happy medium? Because at this point with my new someone, we haven't kissed and I'm not about to make the first move--another one of my little rules. There have been some really close moments--especially last Friday when we went ice-skating--but I didn't want to push it and I know he didn't want to make that move unless he was sure I wanted him to. Trust me, I wanted him to.

Again, I guess I'll just have to wait and see. Let him make the first move and be patient. The kiss will happen when its meant to happen. And I'll just let the butterflies build til then.

Dating is definitely a tricky world. Lots of things to decipher and think about before hand. It's not just throwing on a pair of pumps and showing up to a restaurant for dinner. A lot goes into it, and obviously timing is everything. I guess I'm still trying to decipher parts of it, but I will say.....I'm enjoying the butterflies.

Love Letter

I dreamed about you last night.

As I do most nights.

You were alive. And everything was fine. It was all just a mean-spirited joke. The accident, the obituary, the posts, the pictures--all of it wasn't true. Someone faked all of it. You were safe and in hiding--in Europe or something--but finally coming out into the light. I was so angry and excited all at the same time. Felt like such a fool that I believed it all, so angry that I wanted to scream. Why would you hurt us all? Your poor mother and family! I cried for nights for your loss and now I know it was for nothing! Why! But that faded to the building joy in my heart. All wrong-doing easily forgotten. It really wasn't that bad, now that I think of it.You weren't gone! You were still warm and breathing! You were coming home! Maybe not to me, but you were still you. Maybe not to my arms, but in the same city. I didn't need you to be with me, only alive and safe. I went to the airport, I had to see for myself. I had to see you walking. I stood in the terminal trembling, almost crying. I could see your shadow, almost hear your voice.

Then I woke up.

And my heart broke all over again.

Dreams never last long enough. I tried shutting my eyes, to recall the fleeting dream but it had retreated to the back of my memory. Dreams can never be beckoned.

Sometimes, I really wish I could get you out of my head. That I could move on and stop thinking about you. Dreaming about you. And just move on. To find someone I click with from the start, like we did those many years ago. To have insane chemistry and affection for. To not actively look for things to nit-pick. To feel complete with someone else. To want someone as much as I wanted you. And I don't want them because they are not you. Not even close to you.

Sometimes I think you were my soulmate and the only love I was meant to have was what I felt for you for those few short months. How different things could have been if I hadn't gone back to school. If I had stayed home and gave us the time we needed. How our lives could've ended up. How you could've been by my side now, instead of gone forever.

I waste so much time thinking about the what-ifs. I can't stand it.

But still I pray at night to you. To send me a sign of what I should do. A sign to show me that everything happened the way it was meant to. Show me that you are okay and at peace. That my love wasn't one-sided. That from the beyond, you are sending someone else to me. Someone like you. Someone you'd want me to spend my nights with.

It's weird. I can still see your face. Like it was yesterday. Everything about you is so fresh in my mind. And the way I felt with you, in your arms.

I miss you.

I'll never stop missing you.

Stay with me.

Forever.

Scrooged

December is a time of family gatherings, colored lights, the smell of fresh pine needles, red and green wrapping paper, baking cookies, giving gifts, snow, Santa Clause, Frosty, Rudolph, Christmas specials, caroling, and ultimately love and happiness. It's the one time of year that the entire world comes together, in different ways, to celebrate the season and love for their family. It is truly the most magical time of the year, not just because of the gift-giving and time off from work, but this month evokes strong emotions of gratitude, excitement and love. Most people wish they could experience or live this one month all year long--I actually know someone who, when they are blue or lonely, will watch Christmas movies and will instantly feel better. It's a time of year that should be bottled-up and shared with all.

I have so many great memories from my childhood involving Christmas, as I'm sure many people do. But I think the one thing that stands out for me--which it may not for others--is the magic my parents try to create for us with Christmas. It's something I want to recreate with my own children.

When I was little, my parents would not decorate the house in any form until we were safely tucked in and asleep in bed on Christmas Eve. We'd get home from my Grandmom's house, put out milk, cookies and carrots for Santa and his reindeer, hang our stockings on the bannister (because we didn't have a fire place--which was an issue of high contention in our house.  "Santa has a magic key to our front door," my Dad would tell us), and set up our American Girl dolls around the Christmas tree. As soon as we were in bed, my parents would decorate the entire house, decorate the tree, wrap gifts, set-up my Dad's elaborate Santa village and train set, and assemble any gifts that had parts so they'd be ready first thing the next morning. No matter how late we got home, this was their tradition. Recently they told me that one year we got home close to midnight and they were up until 4 am getting the house ready--we came bounding in to their room Christmas morning at 6 am. Or one year they didn't wrap our gifts and the next morning I turned to my dad and said, "I guess the Elves forgot to wrap them this year." They admit now that doing this was a bit crazy, but completely worth it when they saw our faces the next morning. To see our excitement at how Santa decorated our house. We actually have some pretty hilarious home-movies of those mornings--our faces and shrieks of "HE CAME" are pretty priceless. Christmas in my house was seriously the best, and the entire season was decked in magic.

This year, I'm just not feeling it.

I have no idea why,  but I haven't found my Christmas spirit. True, December has only just begun, but I'm usually bursting with excitement for the season as soon as Thanksgiving is over.

Here is a list of things  I haven't done yet for the holiday season;

1. Listened to Christmas music
2. Watched a single Christmas special or movie all the way through
3. Decorated the house
4. Accompanied my parents to get our Christmas tree
5. Drove around my neighborhood to look at the decorations and lights
6. Contemplated sitting on Santa's lap
7. Hoped for a "White Christmas"
8. Baked cookies

All of these are pretty big traditions for me and I just haven't had the urge to partake. And it's not like I haven't had the opportunity. In fact, last weekend when my parents wanted me to go with them to get our tree--something I truly believe I have mastered--I passed telling them, "Oh I want to take a nap."

Yes, I know. With that utterance, I spit in the face of Christmas.

All of this isn't to say that I am making an active choice not to participate in Christmas. I actually have all my gifts bought, wrapped, and ready to give. A few of which I am truly excited to--especially the gifts for my grandmom and grandpop. But...it's just the feeling of Christmas seems to be missing. Like this is just any other month for me; not a month with the best holiday. Like something is missing in my heart when it comes to Christmas--like I'm just going through the motions and not really enjoying it.

Is there something wrong with me? Have I lost the Christmas spirit? Is it something you lose with age? Am I too old for the magic? Am I doomed to spend the rest of my holidays a Scrooge?

Baby Jesus, I hope not! Because life without Christmas would suck!

Now that I'm thinking about it some more, I can only come up with 2 explanations;

1. My house is a construction zone. My parents are adding a "Senior Suite" (or the "west wing" as we lovingly refer to it) to our house for my grandparents to move in. An entire wall was knocked down in our living room and there is dust and crap everywhere. Due to this, my parents haven't really decorated our house to the usual extent that they do. It's actually pretty sad.
2. I'm single.

I don't think it's the second, since I was single last Christmas and didn't feel like this then. Sure, it'd be great to be in love and to spend the holidays with someone special, but I wouldn't let that bring me down. Honestly, a boyfriend would be too stressful right now--I like being able to do my own thing and spend the entire holiday with my family, and not have to worry about other obligations. 

So I don't know. Maybe I need a "Christmas Intervention" of sorts. An intervention where the only cure would be forced consumption of Christmas cookies, watching Christmas movies and listening to B101 (the "soft radio station" that plays only Christmas songs from December 1st until New Years) at all times. Hopefully I'll get more into the spirit as the holiday gets closer, because no one can take Christmas away from me.

Not even me!