Every parent, I am sure, has memories of Christmases with little children that border on Edgar Allen Poe stories: Late night toy assembly followed by wee hours of the morning wake up calls from small fry to come and see what Santa has brought; overly stimulated children with loud toys running amok in the house or children who did NOT get what they asked for and throw a fit. In all honesty I can say we had no such Chevy Chase Christmases.
Before you all think that the three of you wore haloes, let me tell the true facts. Christmas for us was a time of incredible nuclear energy: anticipation, sugar-fueled frenetic activities, present inspection and rattling. The drive to G and G’s house seemed to last forever! There were certain thrills involved in the trip: the car sailing over the huge paving bumps after leaving the Suisun Bridge near the refinery at Martinez. That was always looked forward to with great anticipation as it was like riding a roller coaster; the viewing of the “Ghost Fleet” in Suisun Bay (with attendant ghost story from me) was another looked forward to landmark; looking for the Parish Road sign (sometimes a potty stop) and always remarking that it was wrongly spelled). The culminating activity of the trip was sneaking up to the door on Ronnie way, with the car parked around the corner. Surprise was always happily accomplished. Dishes heaped with M&M’s, nuts, boxes of See’s candy…these were the traps that Grandma set for her grandchildren right inside the front door, and it was LOVED !
The Christmas tree in the living room seemed to be buried under an avalanche of presents. Hours were spent scoping the scene and plotting which to open first, the BIG one or the more mysterious smaller one?! When the car was unloaded our share of Christmas presents was added to the heap and it truly resembled Mt. Shasta.
Christmas Eve, after a dinner of crab, salad and French bread, it was time to leave Santa a note and cookies and carrots for the reindeer. Soon several plates of offerings and missives graced the hearth. Then it was “early to bed” though not early to sleep. More than once a parent had to go and quiet the insane giggling from piles of mummified cousins crammed into the various bedrooms. Only then the serious adult business began! A virtual assembly line of stocking stuffers was laid out across the floor: offerings from us, Margie and Gma were sorted, piled and shoehorned into bulging stockings. Those overloaded excuses for footwear looked like pregnant sausages when we were done and could never have been hung by a chimney with care…they would have pulled down the chimney!
Atrocities began early! Weary adults were cruelly awakened in the wee hours of the morning with screams of “We’re up! Let’s go!“ One memorable Christmas, Rosa came into the “Nursery” where Dan and I were sleeping and woke him up at 4 AM. She had decided to decorate the walls with a long paper chain of Christmas drawings that she had created only hours earlier! They began to tape this to the walls of our room and in doing so she calmly stepped on my face (I was still in my bag trying to rest) and carefully taped a portion to the wall before moving on…totally oblivious to her uncle’s plight. Such was our Christmas madness.
When everyone had been dragged reluctantly to the front room, the frenzy began. The floor of the New York Stock Exchange on Black Friday was a tame kindergarten scene compared to what ensued. Each child, and adult, had a section of the floor (and a large shopping bag thoughtfully supplied by Grandma) to corral their booty in. Such piles of loot! [In writing this I am made aware of how fortunate and privileged we were and are still. Piles of paper and ribbon more befitting a hamster cage littered the floor.
Then it was Hi- Ho to get dressed and take the outside toys outside to test and run. New bikes were ridden up and down the driveway an on Ronnie Way. Dan’s plastic chain saw and hard hat were worn and used all day…thousands of board feet of the giant Eucalyptus tree were harvested with that raucous plastic implement. Dolls were groomed and preened, trucks run on the floor, books read, candy slurped, and yes, Pop always got an onion or a potato in his stocking. (hear hilarious laughter from kids here). Mom always got loads of tangerines.
Becca relates that her cousin Rosa was the culprit who inadvertently helped her realize that there was no Santa Claus. In making her wish list for Santa, helper Rosa kept writing the word “BIKE” down, even though Becca did not wish for a bike this Christmas. Rosa was insistent and it was finally allowed to stay. When a bike was wheeled in on Christmas morning, Becca realized that Rosa had known all along that she was getting one. Connecting the dots, Becca figured out the obvious result, sadly crushing her belief in Santa.
Of course as the years progressed and teenagers morphed from wee tots, Christmas became a later and later event in the morning. Sleep became a treasured item and presents became more refined and mature. Now my babies are adults and put on Christmases of their own. Many of the legends and traditions live on. Now, in writing this, I am made aware of how fortunate and privileged we were and are still.
JP 12-17-2011
No comments:
Post a Comment