Posted tagged ‘new pajamas’

“Christmas Eve was a night of song that wrapped itself about you like a shawl. But it warmed more than your body. It warmed your heart…filled it, too, with melody that would last forever.”

December 24, 2017

Last night it rained, but it’s still cloudy. The clouds, though, are light and give hope for a bit of sun. Yesterday I made my orange cookies and today is lemon squares. That’s it for the day except to shower and get ready for tonight’s festivities.

When I was a kid, this was an endless day. I remember us begging our mother to let us go to bed around 5:30. We figured the night would pass quickly if we were asleep. We never got to test that theory as we never went to bed so early. After dinner my mother always let us open a present on Christmas Eve. We didn’t have a choice as to which one we opened. We moaned and groaned because we always had to open the new pajamas. Under the tree were more presents but they were hands off until the morning.

A Christmas Carol was usually on TV, and we watched it every year. That’s where my love for the movie began. The TV screen was small and the movie was in black and white, but it was still magical as Scrooge was helped by the ghosts to see joy in Christmas and his connections to other people. I remember being older and reading A Christmas Carol and feeling as if it was an old friend I’d read often.

Dinner was no big thing on Christmas Eve. None of us was really all that hungry for regular food. We ate cookies, as many as we could get away with. My mother put hard Christmas candies in a dish on the table. The pieces were sticky and some were stuck together. That was a good excuse to eat a couple at a time. The candy didn’t last long.

Opening the pajamas signaled the start of our Christmas rituals. We’d run upstairs and put the pajamas on right away. Next was the hanging of the stockings on the stair rail. We did it by age with mine at the top, George’s next then Sheila’s then my sister Moe’s at the bottom. Sheila and Moe went to bed first. George and I went later. It took forever to fall asleep. We’d talk across the hall from one bedroom to another. I never remembered finally falling asleep. It just happened.

When I woke up on Christmas morning, it took a moment or two before I remembered it was Christmas. My parents had us wait until the four of us were awake then we raced down the stairs. Nothing is more spectacular than seeing the lit Christmas tree with the presents around it.

It doesn’t seem to matter how old I am. I still love Christmas. Under my tree are wrapped presents. I won’t open them until tomorrow. I might shake a few tonight!

Merry Christmas!

“Our hearts grow tender with childhood memories and love of kindred, and we are better throughout the year for having, in spirit, become a child again at Christmas-time.”

December 24, 2014

It’s raining, and it’s 50˚, but none of that matters. It’s Christmas Eve. When I was a kid, it was the longest day of the year. The clock never seemed to move. I remember begging my mother to let me go to bed around six or seven. Tired had nothing to do with it. I was filled with anticipation, and I remember believing sleeping the night away was the quickest way to get to morning and to Santa’s surprises. It, of course, was always the one night I could never get to sleep. I remember having conversations with my brother down the hall while both of us were still in bed in our own rooms. Periodically my mother would yell up the stairs for us to stop talking so we could go to sleep. I used to wonder why she didn’t realize sleep was far away on Christmas Eve. Hers was a silly request.

Every year my mother put a few presents under the tree. Every year my sister Moe poked tiny holes in each present to see what was there. It was during these hole poking days she developed an aptitude for guessing exactly what each wrapped present was. Holes were no longer necessary. One Christmas is legendary. She was going to a Christmas party with Rod, my brother-in-law, and had nothing to wear. She felt a few presents from my parents and found her outfit, felt a few more and found new earrings to match her dress. She called to thank my mother who then became the tale bearer of my sister’s latest Christmas miracle.

We could open one present on Christmas Eve, but we never got to pick the present. We always had to open the pajamas. New pajamas were part of our Christmas tradition.

I can still see the tree at 16 Washington Ave. in its usual corner with the wrapped gifts underneath, the ones from my parents and grandparents, the ones with the tiny holes. The lights in the windows seemed especially brilliant on Christmas Eve. TV Santa, the one from New Hampshire we watched every afternoon, wished us a Merry Christmas, waved and left for his big adventure around the world. We hung our stockings on the railing going upstairs. We had no chimney. We watched a Christmas show or two on TV then we went to bed. Eons later we all fell asleep.

Today is still all about tradition. This morning I opened number 24 on my Advent calendar. It is the crèche scene, the same as it always is. This afternoon I will work on tomorrow’s dinner, and tonight my friends and I will build gingerbread houses, eat some appies and have a drink or two. That’s one of our favorite Christmas traditions.

Happy Christmas Eve! I hope you’re all on the good list.

“Christmas makes me schmaltzy. I’m proud to be level-headed, even a little tough most of the time. But once a year I like to believe that peace on earth may be possible and calories don’t count.”

December 22, 2013

Another early morning for me-this time it was 4 AM. I tried to go back to sleep but couldn’t so I decided to read then finally I just came downstairs lured by the thoughts of fresh coffee. When I let Miss Gracie out, I was amazed at how warm it is, 58˚ right now.

Okay, I admit that some, okay many, of the Christmas movies are far too sweet, but I tend to watch them anyway. I am a sucker for all things Christmas. At this time of the morning though the choices are quite limited, mostly repeats of repeats. I couldn’t find anything on regular TV so I checked On Demand and found some Christmas movies I’ve never seen and suspect I never will. The first, Santa’s Slay, is about the devil’s son forced to be nice and give out gifts for a thousand years. The thousand years, though, are up. The other holiday offerings were no better. The Santa Claus killer is awakened from a coma and stalks a clairvoyant blind woman on Christmas Eve or Silent Night 5 ( 3 & 4 are also available) when, “A creepy toy maker and his son are spending their days and nights constructing a series of ever more horrible booby-trapped toys, each one designed to kill whoever plays with them.” Ho Ho Ho and Merry Christmas!

Switching gears:

My mother gave us an Advent calendar every year, and each December morning we’d open a new door. For Christmas Eve, the picture was always a small manger scene. The rest of the days varied and were mostly toys or symbols of Christmas like angels or a tree. Each opened door got us closer and closer to Christmas, and we got more and more excited. My mother would tell us how many days until Santa’s visit, but we’d count the unopened doors to make the days real to us. I still buy Advent calendars for my sisters, my friend and me. This morning I opened the door to find a filled Christmas stocking. I counted only two unopened doors left until Santa.

Around this close to Christmas, we starting driving my mother crazy. School was out, the weather was often too cold to play outside and the wrapped gifts under the tree were almost too much for us to bear. The gifts were squeezed, pawed and shaken. Each had that small hidden hole made by my sister, and we all had correctly identified our new pajamas, destined to be opened on Christmas Eve. With nothing to do, we’d start the teasing which usually led to yelling and a push or two. When we were young, the mere mention of Santa stopped us in our tracks. When we were older, my mother would threaten to ship us outside if we didn’t stop. The cold was an incentive to behave.

It was Christmas time which taught me patience.