Casablanca Christmas Part 1

Like it or not, the past 6 Christmases for me have gone like so:

Thanksgiving arrives, and it feels like Thanksgiving- not Christmas. With so much time ahead of me (or so I think), I begin dreaming of grandiose homemade gifts that involve mediums never-before tried. I attempt to inspire the rest of our family to recycle, reuse, regift this year through some caffeine-intoxicated email I write at midnight, as if my veiled attempt to say "we're broke this year, guys" wasn't obvious from the opening paragraph's "Save the planet with us this Christmas- shop at GoodWill!".

Feet propped up on an ottoman every night until two weeks before the big day, it all becomes quite clear that quilts as Christmas gifts needed to be started sooner than December 10th.

Scribbled lists of names of family members with items categorized by theme ("Spa Theme for Mom- pjs, bubble baths and bath salts, eye pillows, and lotions", for example) would probably look identical to last year's procrastinated list and years before, had I saved them. Unlike those few times in college where a burst of creativity bloomed during an all-nighter under the influence of lethal doses of caffeine, typically I am less creative as deadlines approach. Christmas, unfortunately, is no exception.

That one week before Christmas is spent (like every other idiot in Atlanta apparently) racing around stores and shops that I dread going into every other day of the year. But this season's frenzy adds another layer of depth to the shopping experience, one that could make a person agoraphobic. I curse at bad drivers with small ears listening from the backseat. "'Ha ha, kids. Mommy's only kidding!" I make turns into parking spaces so fast that for a second I'm only on 2 wheels. "Try stealing another space from me now, sucker!!!... still kidding, kiddos." I accidentally bump into the heels of shoppers with my shopping cart, receiving the most awful (but deserving) looks from the victims. During that hour, amidst the aisles of boxed stuff that line the shelves of the florescent-lit store, a CrockPot seems to make the most sense. Yes, my brother needs a CrockPot! Scratch him off the list. "Next, kids, help mommy find a Vaporizer for Grandpa." There is no logic in my thinking. I'm just placing medium-sized boxes of whatever that range from $20- $50 into my cart, so that I may cross another name of my uninspired list.

In the whirlwind of CrockPottery and holiday socks, I forget about the precedent I'm setting for the small eyes of interpretation. They watch, they absorb, they want. It's enough to make me wish I was Amish. At least then I'd have no choice- if I don't finish (or start) that quilt for whomever by December 10th, there's no plan-B singing Santa snow globe. Whomever can just wait another year for that amazing heirloom quilt (which also buys me another year to learn how to quilt). My children would see the meaning that comes from real gift giving- thoughtfulness, inspiration, love, and evidence of the giver's time. They themselves would become more excited about the act of giving than the act of receiving.

Luckily, children at ages 5 and 3 are remarkably resilient and surprisingly generous when you least expect it. Despite my holiday anxieties, my children still found the holiday spirit in themselves to make cards and want to help me wrap presents and such. In true mommy fashion, I rarely trust the so-called innocence of children, so I assume they must have been angling for some extra Santa sweetness. But whatever the case, they definitely helped make this season something special.

We celebrated Christmas early with my folks, grandparents, and brother. There was so much thoughtfulness, inspiration, love, and evidence of the givers' time that I have to share that on a separate post. It was a very sweet holiday with them. You won't believe some of the (*shame*) beautiful homemade gifts that were given (and not by me).

(notice Banjo's expression)

And as if that was not wonderful enough, we are fortunate enough to be visiting Terry's mom for the week. It's already been such a fun trip, filled with winning, hilarious, and tender musings to share with you on yet another post. Christmas morning with Grandma Lani was extremely sweet.

Enjoy the remainder of your holiday. Janet and John, congratulations on the best gift this year- Dorothy!