Christmas Nostalgia

I have made it this year all the way to Thanksgiving without having a Christmas tree up yet.  I vowed I would make it!  Although, I assure you, it goes up on Friday.  I know it’s ridiculous to attempt to fast forward through one holiday to get to the better one, but I think those of us who rush to hang our lights and stockings do so because of the way it makes us feel.  It’s the cozy comfort of twinkling lights, shimmering ribbons, fuzzy blankets, and crackling fires.  It’s the one time of year people are a little bit nicer, (for the most part).  I remember hearing on the radio a few years back that during the height of foreclosures, some banks were halting all seizures from Dec. 23^rd to the 25^th and thinking, “Well, isn’t that special?”  See, even banks can have heart that will automatically self-destruct in 3 days during this time of year! 

There’s just something special about it.  I don’t know if Christmas will ever feel like it did when I was a kid, but I still get the warm and fuzzies because of my kiddos and watching them have the same delight I once had.  I would get so excited on Christmas Eve, I drove my brother crazy.  He was always cool and never got too giddy about anything.  I, however, would lie there sleepless, flailing my feet under the covers and wondering what was in each box I had shaken and debated unwrapping and tapping back together for weeks.  My family wasn’t exactly “The Cleavers” but there were special Christmas traditions.  One Christmas Eve, I asked my mom if we could all dress up for dinner.  She humored me and I felt like we were a real live TV family.  In the 80’s, my mom looked and dressed like the mom from “Growing Pains”, so for that night, I had decided we were “The Seavers”. 

We always had a real tree.  I would go with my dad on the four-wheeler to ride around the woods until we found the perfect tree.  He wasn’t always willing to give me his time, but when he did, I took full advantage.  Even he softened on Christmas.  I would always pick the most massive tree I could find – a Griswold tree.  To his credit, he never told me it was too big.  He’d mostly just say, “Is that big enough for ya, Bub?”  Then he’d hack the top off because I had chosen one 13 ft. tall and shave off the branches beneath to expose the trunk.  I loved decorating it and the smell was the best part. We would play Christmas music, string lights, and hang ornaments.  We wore out that Brenda Lee Christmas album.  Yes, ALBUM.  Ryan and I had our favorite Christmas specials we would watch on TV.  I have tried to collect some of these old favorites on DVD for my kids to enjoy.  I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I was when my children didn’t give a flying fart about the ultimate classic, “Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas”.  I almost got belligerent in my interrogation as to why they weren’t completely enthralled.  “What?  Not enough bright colors for you?  What’s the problem?  You’re too good for Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas??” 

I would spend weeks before Christmas in a fog of excitement not much different than Ralphie Parker’s.  White Christmases were common and I can remember the view out of every window -- that special rush of waking up to find everything blanketed in snow and knowing we’re getting closer.  Hopefully a school cancellation was to follow.  Ryan and I had some of our most fun and were at our most creative on snow days.  Our snowmen were elaborate and fashionable.  We even used pompoms to give them hair.  We would make recorded tapes and the best on record was our news station, W-VEG.  We created all kinds of characters.  We had the sports caster, Bubbles – the advice columnist, etc.  We played music in between and if I’m not mistaken, Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” made it in there somewhere.  What I wouldn’t give to sit down and listen to that tape but it’s lost somewhere and that kills me.  I remember exactly what it looked like.  I remember it as being the funniest thing in the world.

Other funny memories around this time come up because obviously, it would be cold at this time of year and we didn’t have central heat and air.  For a long time we only had base board heaters until my parent’s put in a wood burning stove.  It sat on a brick pedestal that went up onto the wall.  Ryan was chasing me through the house once and broke his toe on that brick pedestal.  That stove was highly effective.  I stood in front of its door once to warm my backside and I must’ve stood a tad too close because it embossed the seal on the cast iron door to the butt of my pink bathrobe.  It would heat up the house so well that I can remember having to take breaks from watching “Dolly Parton’s Smoky Mountain Christmas” to go stand in the snow and cool off.

Eventually Christmas morning would come and we were up before dawn.  Mom was a step ahead of us because she was already in full makeup.  There were going to be photos taken and you weren’t catching her bare-faced, I can tell you that right now.  My mother is a lady – she smells nice, hair done, face on.  I would rip open my presents as fast as I could.  I had an ongoing love affair with Cabbage Patch dolls for many years.  I would rip open my new one and smell her.  They always smelled like vanilla.  I had several Cabbage Patch dolls over the years.  Some came after they had upgraded to synthetic hair instead of yarn.  The kind you could lengthen or shorten.  But I never loved any of them the way I loved my very 1^st, Cheryl Dawn.  She had yarn hair but she was still my favorite.  My Granny Faye restored her for me and I still have her.  She lives in my cedar chest.

I had 2 massive families.  We would visit both sets of grandparents, opening more presents, and eating till we’d bust.  There were cousins, aunts and uncles by the boat-load – food everywhere.  The Ott side of my family was a bit more subdued than the Rorie side.  There was laughter in both houses, but far more yelling and general loudness at the Rorie’s.  It’s just the way they are.  Every year my Papaw Henry would taste the turkey and say and I quote, “This turkey’s dry ain’t it?”  Then everyone would laugh because he said it every year.  My cousin Michael eventually began beating him to the punch which was even funnier.  Everyone would again laugh but it was a certain kind of laugh – a Rorie laugh I can’t describe, I can only duplicate in person.  Granny would follow up with, “I wish you’d shut up!”  He would never respond, really.  He’d just take his dry turkey and go back to his chair.  It’s one of those “it’s funny because it’s true” kind of things.  Yes they were characters, loud characters, who were rough around the edges, but they were my family and I remember feeling like it was special. 

Times change and traditions fade.  As my cousins and I have aged into adulthood, married, moved away, and some grandparents have passed, the traditions have adapted but I’m glad I have those memories.  It has made Christmas always hold such a special place in my heart.  I hope the traditions I’m setting now will be something my children will always look back on with that good old warm and fuzzy feeling.  I don’t think a year goes by when I put up my tree that I don’t feel the same way I used to feel when I did it as a kid.  I’m still that same girl inside.  She’s just a bit older and maybe a hair more cynical.  But now I let my kids put the ornaments on.  I do my best to bite my tongue and not say a word if they put too many of the same kind of ornament in one spot.  My mom never knit-picked me for it so why be more worried about a picture-perfect tree than to marvel at something my children enjoyed doing?  I play music like my mom used to and hope it makes it as special for them as it did for me.

Like I said, it’s a special time.  I guess that’s why I feel nostalgic now and why this blog fell out.  My Christmases now are spent at my house with Jason and the kiddos.  Mom and JC come down and occasionally Ryan makes an appearance.  *Fingers crossed for this year*  I’m grateful for what is now and I’m grateful for what was.  Yes, I’m a bit more cynical these days but I still love lights that twinkle, ribbons that shimmer, and a fire that crackles.  I still want what I always wanted around this time of year; for everyone to just be grateful for one another, families to be families, to create memories that will last a lifetime, to slow down a little, and be a little kinder.  Tis the season…

See How They Grow.

It’s amazing to watch my children’s personalities develop.  It’s so fun to begin having insight as to who they might grow up to be.  Their interests, their passions, what makes them tick, what makes them laugh.  Each of my children is so individual, other than their shared appreciation for fart humor.  Although, I attribute this mostly to Drew convincing the other two from birth that this is a timeless classic.  He got them young and impressionable, so…  This wealth of knowledge really all leads back to Jason in the end.  I grew up in a household that had zero tolerance for fart humor.  Any type of tasteless humor downright infuriated my dainty, southern bell mother.  Farts weren’t funny.  She made that clear.  She particularly hated the word “poot”.  My friend Crysta once joked that we were “the fartless family” and we were.  Jason, however, grew up with two brothers and farts were a free and an endless source of laughs.  I’ve tolerated it being passed onto my children and even caught myself laughing at their disgusting antics once or twice but they didn’t get it from me.  (I seem to have gotten off track about farting here somewhere…..)

Back to their personalities:  It has always been assumed that since Drew physically resembles Jason in every conceivable way, his personality would be just like Jason’s also.  I admit, I just figured as much, as well.  Up until recently, it’s been a safe assumption because I hadn’t really been proven otherwise.  Jason wasn’t much of an outdoor kid.  He’s red headed and pale so sun is his enemy.  I was outdoorsy and would get frustrated when getting him outside was like pulling teeth.  I always thought he was being a bit dramatic when he acted like he would have some sort of vampire-like reaction to the sun.  That is, until I saw him get 2^nd degree burns through three applications of the highest SPF on the market.  Jason was a much more video game kind of kid and Drew seemed to have followed suit on this.  Drew switched from junior high to his new high school this year and we’re really starting to see him come alive.  Not that he’s been a hollow shell up until now, but he just hasn’t shown much interest in anything.  I would try to pry out of him how his day went after school and I was usually only given shrugs and “oh, ya know”.  This new school has sparked change and I’m thrilled.  Drew joined theater and in this particular school, groups other than sports are just as equally funded and appreciated.  Let the artsy fartsy kids rejoice and say AMEN! 
Drew comes home every day with detailed accounts of what happened in theater that day.  He tells me about the exercises they did and even how he felt while doing them.  It seems his greatest strength is improvisation.  Drew has always been a fan of “the zinger”, the final word, “the BA DUM TSS”.  His face lights up and I can see the passion budding there.  He comes by it honest, it’s in his blood.   I’ve just been taken aback to see my DNA in there.  I just assumed he was all Jason and I was nowhere to be found.
Jason has always shared his work with Drew and assumed he would be taken with it.  It is amazing and I think it would impress almost any kid.  What, with lasers shooting out of a box that can model anything into a 3D image.  Drew would feign interest but I could always see the faint *yawn* just below the surface.  Jason has accepted that Drew might not be our engineer, but instead might be our actor and he’s done it with grace.  He has even looked up which theater performances he thinks would be cool to take Drew to see.  I asked Jason if it bothered him that Drew wasn’t going to follow him into his field and he said, “No.  I’m just glad he’s into something.”  I can’t wait to watch Drew perform.  I will cry before he utters his first line.  I’m so elated to watch him flourishing.  He’s discovering who is and sometimes who you are isn’t who anyone expected.  But it’s who he is -- not me and not Jason.  HIM.  But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that seeing traces of myself in there haven’t pleased me to no end.  ‘Cause…  I think I’m cool and I think I brought a lot of good stuff to the table, too ;) 

Lily is my artist.  I’ve posted some of her work and it’s only getting better.  I haven’t had a dining room in years because it is now Lily’s studio.  She will sit for hours on end drawing and painting.  She discovered how to use YouTube a long time ago to perfect her craft.  There are videos available of people sketching and she would sit with a piece of paper and a drawing utensil and she would pause and rewind the video to perfect her image and learn techniques.  This would go on for a long time until she was satisfied.  My brother texted me to talk about Lily’s artistic skills and how this is something you are born with.  I agree 100%.  I don’t draw, I don’t paint and neither does Jason.  Jason’s sister has always been a talented artist so I assume this is where it came from.  Before Lily ever picked up a pencil, I had no idea this unique and precious gift was within her.  It is effortless for her.  I’ve been so impressed to watch her hone this skill and I can’t wait to see where it takes her.

Lily has a strong desire to be a wife and mother and she’s very vocal about it.  I guess that’s a good sign that I haven’t ruined it for her because she’s seen my job and would still like a part of that for herself someday.  I guess I’ve done something right there.  Most women have it engrained so deep in us to reproduce.  Its animal, I don’t know how else to put it.  Ladies, remember when you were little and an adult woman you knew would have a baby and all you wanted to do was hold it?  Remember how you would think about how you couldn’t wait to have one of your own?  Ahh…  To be grown, to be a mom, to be a wife – it’s instinctive and my how we romanticize it.  We just see soft baby features and squeezable little bodies.  The thought of a lifetime of bags under your eyes and Cherrios in your hair just doesn’t compute.

Lily starts a lot of her sentences with, “When I’m a mom”.  I don’t cringe when she says this.  I want her to have these experiences because, yes, I someday want grandbabies.  I also want her to approach it slowly and later.  I don’t want her to be in a rush for it.  I want her to live her life first.  I want her to go to college.  I want her to be independent.  I want her to travel.  I think she’s brilliant and I want her to use it and go where ever it takes her. The knowledge that this gift can take her places has set in for her and me, both.  She loves the beach and has made it clear to me, when she is grown, she will live by the beach.  I told her that’s wonderful and I would love to live by the beach, too.  She said, “Can I live anywhere I want?”  I told her she can go anywhere in the world she wants to go with the right education, dedication, and skillset.  She told me she will live by the beach and I can come live with her if I want.  I told her I can’t come live with her because I belong here with daddy.  I explained that when she’s old enough, it’s time to flee the nest.  It’s time to fly.  I love her enough to let her soar and I think she will.  She asked, “So it’s okay if I live far away from you and daddy?”  My answer is yes because I would never use fear or guilt to keep her under my thumb because I feel safer that way.  That’s selfish.  I fantasize about her living boho chic on the beach somewhere with a studio loft and a free spirit.  I told her that no matter where she goes, I will always visit and be there for every gallery exhibition.  She and her brother will be required to come home on holidays, no exceptions.  I look forward to seeing them grown and watching my family expand; to start a whole new set of traditions when I’m the matriarch.  I hope I can look across a crowded room at what Jason and I created and see a legacy I can feel proud to leave behind.  I hope I will have nurtured who THEY want to be, not who I wanted them to be.

Now onto my Reid.  My baby.  My “Pootie”.  What can I say?  The kid’s got panache.  He’s also the kid that is going to put me in an early grave.  He’s the child that causes everyone in the house to have to go bed an hour early some nights.  It’s like the Army when they punish the whole platoon for one soldier’s actions.  He has the face of an angel and it’s a good thing.  He has challenged me and tested me more than his brother and sister ever thought about.  What’s interesting is, he is also my most physically affectionate child.  He will make me as mad as a hornet and then come lay on me, kiss me, and say, “Mom, I love you so much”.  He makes me crazy but I’m also such a sucker for him that it’s embarrassing.  He is the kind of kid that will come downstairs and say, “You okay, mom?”  I’ll say, “Yes, why?”  He’ll respond with, “Just checking on you.”  That makes every fit he threw prior fade away.  His face and smile get into my soul.  He’s loud, he’s hysterical, he’s whiny, he’s demanding, he spoiled rotten, he’s stubborn, he’s the life of the party and I don’t think I truly earned my mom stripes until he came along.   I grew a 3^rd eye in the back of my head after he was born.  I’m a pro because Reid upped the stakes of the game.  Women adore him.  His flirty blue eyes have brought women across crowded stores to come acknowledge him.  He flirts.  He knows how to work people.  They will pet his cheeks and he just beams.  When Drew was young, he was secretive and embarrassed of his crushes on girls and didn’t want to talk about it.  Reid will tell me the girls he thinks are beautiful.  I think he will be a lady killer.  I’m not really sure what he’s “into” or what his talents are just yet.  It’s still too early to tell.  Maybe his talent will be that wherever he goes, the party is sure to follow.  People love him.  For some reason, I just don’t worry about him.  I think he’ll be fine in life because his personality just lends itself to that.  I think we’ll have a close relationship as he ages, if he doesn’t run me off into the trees to live as a bush woman first.  I wait with baited breath to watch him evolve.  I think he’s a character and I think the world will, too.

I foresee a lot of performing and visual arts school in our future.  I don’t think Jason ever saw that coming, lol.  I love it!  These three lives are all mine to nourish and grow.  I can’t control who they will grow into but I do my best to take their attributes and encourage and guide them.  They’re all so cool in their own little ways.  For now, they are all mine but the time will come when I will have to set all three of them free.  I hope they will always want to come back from time to time.  I hope they will always feel like I did my best.  I hope they will always feel like I loved, encouraged and supported them.  Also, I hope they appreciate that I put up with their farts.  Go well, my children.  Fly.