For the first time in at least 18 years, I will not be celebrating Christmas in my usual fashion. I will not be organizing a family photo, addressing and mailing hundreds of cards, decorating every room, trimming a live tree or hosting any parties. I will not be buying gifts and wrapping for hours. (Ok, I might buy the dog a new toy.) I will not be coordinating schedules to accommodate other people. I enjoy doing most of these things but this is not the year for it.
I am not skipping Christmas. I'm already listening to holiday music. I will help my oldies trim a small tree. I will keep my mother and sister company while they do their annual candy making. I will help my mother prepare a holiday meal. I will enjoy the children's Christmas show and the choir's cantata at church.
Tradition and rituals are important to me. This will be my first Christmas making some new ones.
Showing posts with label rituals. Show all posts
Showing posts with label rituals. Show all posts
Monday, December 1, 2008
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Empty Nest -- Empty Tree
We finally got lights and the most basic decorations on our tree. I use the term "we" loosely because the husband did most of it while I was addressing Christmas cards. Like those old Shake 'n Bake commercials: "I helped." I got the tree. I had all the lights and decorations hauled up and ready to go, thanks to Houseboy.
There's a reason we could not bring ourselves to decorate the tree (although the house decorations look very nice.) Every ornament is a memory. It's one of my favorites the daughter bought me. It's the one the baby made in preschool. It's nine million of them with our names on them. It's a party we attended or a memento from a fun trip.
Still, the tree had to be dressed. I had people coming over. Plus, I like to throw one more obstacle for the oldies in the path between the dungeon and the kitchen.
So, the husband was kind enough to do it. Lights, red balls, gold balls and some tinsel. (I know no one uses tinsel any more but we're throw backs.) There is not a single personal item on this tree. It could go anywhere. It's very pretty but it's not us. We have decided to wait until the children of this home are home.
One of our rituals during the holiday is whoever gets up first has certain duties: Start the coffee, get the paper, turn on the tree and the wreaths.
The husband coined the phrase but now we're both using it. We look at the tree and say to each other, "Merry Impersonal Christmas."
There's a reason we could not bring ourselves to decorate the tree (although the house decorations look very nice.) Every ornament is a memory. It's one of my favorites the daughter bought me. It's the one the baby made in preschool. It's nine million of them with our names on them. It's a party we attended or a memento from a fun trip.
Still, the tree had to be dressed. I had people coming over. Plus, I like to throw one more obstacle for the oldies in the path between the dungeon and the kitchen.
So, the husband was kind enough to do it. Lights, red balls, gold balls and some tinsel. (I know no one uses tinsel any more but we're throw backs.) There is not a single personal item on this tree. It could go anywhere. It's very pretty but it's not us. We have decided to wait until the children of this home are home.
One of our rituals during the holiday is whoever gets up first has certain duties: Start the coffee, get the paper, turn on the tree and the wreaths.
The husband coined the phrase but now we're both using it. We look at the tree and say to each other, "Merry Impersonal Christmas."
Friday, November 16, 2007
Having a History
When the husband and I were dating, he said three things that really struck a chord with me. Two were the obvious, "I love you" and later, "Will you marry me?" The one that really got me early on was, "I can't wait until we have a history together." It implied long term. It suggested a future and an appreciation for making memories.
He got his wish. We have a history together. Boy, do we ever!
We have his history, including childhood and previous relationships. We have my history, also including childhood and relationships. We have two children who were not born of this union but in many ways are a product of this union. We have friends -- some he brought to the mix, some I brought to the mix, some we have met through our years together.
We have the oldies. (I'll bet that wasn't part of his making memories plan.)
Photos and (especially) music allow us to say, "Remember this?" Even articles of clothing can remind us of a special occasion.
We have rituals. Some are holiday traditions; others are just things we do, like the crossword. We have signals. Sometimes they're subtle like a raised eyebrow or a hand on the thigh. Others get a little more to the point. And a little louder.
The ability to judge someone's mood or pick the time for a tough conversation is a dance that's perfected over time. Knowing a spouse's hot buttons and choosing not to push them is a dance I'm still learning.
Smart people know if they're jumping into a feather bed or jumping into a volcano. Some of us just jump in.
For some people, having a history means comfort and complacence. I admit that our life together involves some of that. But, we're a little too high strung. Peaks and valleys.
Even in the valleys, I will sing along at the piano. Or, I will curl up and watch TV for a while. During the valleys, we tend to watch a lot of Court TV shows where one spouse tried to get away with killing the other.
He got his wish. We have a history together. Boy, do we ever!
We have his history, including childhood and previous relationships. We have my history, also including childhood and relationships. We have two children who were not born of this union but in many ways are a product of this union. We have friends -- some he brought to the mix, some I brought to the mix, some we have met through our years together.
We have the oldies. (I'll bet that wasn't part of his making memories plan.)
Photos and (especially) music allow us to say, "Remember this?" Even articles of clothing can remind us of a special occasion.
We have rituals. Some are holiday traditions; others are just things we do, like the crossword. We have signals. Sometimes they're subtle like a raised eyebrow or a hand on the thigh. Others get a little more to the point. And a little louder.
The ability to judge someone's mood or pick the time for a tough conversation is a dance that's perfected over time. Knowing a spouse's hot buttons and choosing not to push them is a dance I'm still learning.
Smart people know if they're jumping into a feather bed or jumping into a volcano. Some of us just jump in.
For some people, having a history means comfort and complacence. I admit that our life together involves some of that. But, we're a little too high strung. Peaks and valleys.
Even in the valleys, I will sing along at the piano. Or, I will curl up and watch TV for a while. During the valleys, we tend to watch a lot of Court TV shows where one spouse tried to get away with killing the other.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
28 Pounds
Although I am an only child, I have a pseudo sister.
When I was twelve years old, a new family moved in across the street. I offered my services as a babysitter for their two-year old daughter and infant son. I was a safe option, with my parents right across the street. I babysat for them a lot. They also spent a lot of time with my parents. When my dad would come home from work, the daughter would stand on the sidewalk and scream across the street, "Paulie, I weigh 28 pounds."
My mother went through a tough time when I headed off to college. Luckily, my sister was there. She helped decorate the Christmas tree and she hung out. She loved (and still loves) hanging out in the kitchen with my mother.
When she was a teenager, we grilled her about everything. Boys, school, sex, politics, etc. I would've run away screaming but she put up with us.
She was in a horrible car accident in her late teens -- we honestly didn't know if she would survive. My mother went to the hospital and later the rehab place every day. No one (with the possible exception of her parents) prayed harder than my mother. She survived and thrived.
Today, she's married and the mother of three. She and my mother have lots of rituals and traditions that have nothing to do with me. They have standing dates for certain tv shows. She and my mother make all of the Christmas candy. They regularly go for gas station cappuccinos. I find it amusing that they have so much in common because none of this interests me. They invite me sometimes. I decline.
I pulled her aside once and said, "Please don't ever hurt my parents." I now realize how dumb that was. They're her parents too. She's my sister.
When I was twelve years old, a new family moved in across the street. I offered my services as a babysitter for their two-year old daughter and infant son. I was a safe option, with my parents right across the street. I babysat for them a lot. They also spent a lot of time with my parents. When my dad would come home from work, the daughter would stand on the sidewalk and scream across the street, "Paulie, I weigh 28 pounds."
My mother went through a tough time when I headed off to college. Luckily, my sister was there. She helped decorate the Christmas tree and she hung out. She loved (and still loves) hanging out in the kitchen with my mother.
When she was a teenager, we grilled her about everything. Boys, school, sex, politics, etc. I would've run away screaming but she put up with us.
She was in a horrible car accident in her late teens -- we honestly didn't know if she would survive. My mother went to the hospital and later the rehab place every day. No one (with the possible exception of her parents) prayed harder than my mother. She survived and thrived.
Today, she's married and the mother of three. She and my mother have lots of rituals and traditions that have nothing to do with me. They have standing dates for certain tv shows. She and my mother make all of the Christmas candy. They regularly go for gas station cappuccinos. I find it amusing that they have so much in common because none of this interests me. They invite me sometimes. I decline.
I pulled her aside once and said, "Please don't ever hurt my parents." I now realize how dumb that was. They're her parents too. She's my sister.
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