When I was little, I always looked forward to the Saturday after Thanksgiving. That was the day my Dad would head up into the attic and hand down the Christmas tree and decorations to eagerly reaching hands. My parents and I would spend the entire day setting up the trees and decorating them. Our upstairs tree was green, and done in storybook fashion, with gold tinsel and balls and dozens of hand made ornaments that represented children’s stories – the Wizard of Oz characters here, the Three Little Kittens there, Jack and the Beanstalk above, Alice in Wonderland below – each set had their own place amongst the branches, and my Mother and I would make a new set each year to display. Downstairs we had an aluminum tree which was decorated with bright lights and shiny balls. This tree was my favorite because it looked so different, and below it ran a train, my Uncle’s from when he was just a small child.
In addition to the trees, we’d put electric candles in the windows and my Dad would put lights up inside around the windows as well. Some years he’d decorate the outside of the house with large blue lights as well. We didn’t have a fireplace, but we did have a fake one that took its place in the basement so Santa would have a way to come in and deliver presents.
Those few weeks were always frantic baking times, and my Mom and I would spend days making chocolate candies and all sorts of cookies for family, friends, and teachers. I loved the gingersnaps and making the marzipan cookies that everyone admired. My Dad always made several kinds of fudge as well, and often he’d whip up a batch of the best peanut brittle.
By Christmas Eve, a few presents would be under the tree, and I would be anxiously awaiting Santa’s arrival the following morning. We always went to midnight Mass, and by the time we’d arrive home after 1AM I’d be so tired I would be falling asleep setting out cookies and milk for Santa before heading to my room. My parents would wish me good night, and off I’d go to dream happy dreams while my parents would (unbeknownst to me then) be up for hours assembling and wrapping the presents and arranging them under the tree. They always made sure to take a few bites of the cookies and drink most of the milk as well.
I’d always awaken at 5 AM and creep out into the living room to see if Santa had come. There was always that niggling doubt that I hadn’t been very good, and he might not leave me anything at all except a large, shiny lump of coal. But my eyes would always widen with wonder at the presents piled beneath the tree. I’d run in and wake my parents up (who had probably had about an hour of sleep) so we could go open the bounty of Barbies and other toys. Later we’d go through the stockings, and then I’d get to spend every day until New Year’s Day playing in the living room. That was the day the trees came down, and the toys had to move to their regular location.
Now that I have a family of my own, I try to recreate some of this for them. That Saturday after Thanksgiving we set up and decorate both trees. Our upstairs one varies between white and green, and it has a lot of ornaments my children have made hanging from its branches. Downstairs is that same aluminum tree that my parents used to use, but it’s decorated with space ornaments and unusual balls. A different train circles its base, but every year a new village piece finds its way beside the track.
We go a little crazy decorating outside, and more these past few years then ever. Icicle and snowflake lights deck the roof, while deer graze and leap on the lawn amidst candy canes and presents. It almost looks like the Griswold’s house and we have blown a fuse or two, plunging the house into darkness when the lights are on and I use the microwave. We don’t set up a fireplace, but the kids have a special key so Santa can get into the house without a chimney.
The weeks before Christmas are spent frantically baking and finishing gifts, making candies and sending off packages across the country. I make the same kinds of cookies my Mom used to, along with a few new ones of my own. My children help fill the chocolates with crèmes, peanut butter, and marshmallow. Finally, once Christmas Eve comes, we can relax a bit.
Typically on Christmas Eve, we open one of the gifts below the tree, drink cocoa, and read “The Night Before Christmas.” Then it’s off to the kitchen to set out cookies and milk for Santa before the children go to bed and my husband and I retire to the basement to drink some brandy and finish madly wrapping gifts and stuffing stockings. Once the wrapping is done we wait awhile to make sure the children are really asleep, and then my husband gets a visit from one of “Santa’s helpers.” It’s the one time of year I wear my Christmas lingerie: red chemise trimmed with white fur, black belt, Santa hat, white stockings and high red and white heels. I even have a favorite candy cane and other red and white toys that come out for some fun as well., and my Santa is calling “Ho, Ho, Ho!” by the end. If this is something my parents did, I never knew, but it does make Christmas Eve special for my husband and I.
Later we take the presents up and place them under the tree, then take a bite of cookie and drink some milk and leave a note from Santa. Then it’s off to bed around 2 AM to catch some sleep before the kids can’t restrain themselves and wake us up before 6. Then it’s off to see what Santa has brought, assemble toys and spend the next few days playing with everything new before moving the new toys to the playroom and putting the Christmas decorations away.
I hope some of the things we do will become traditions for my children when they grow up and have families of their own. When they’re grown, I want them to look back with happy memories of the Christmas season and do many of the things we do today for their own children and families.
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