christmas spirit

It occurred to me quite suddenly that it will be Christmas in a few short days & that as a mom it is my sole responsibility to make the day special for a certain little boy. Granted, X is a mite too small to give a rat's ass about Santa, or stockings, or trees (but the lights he loves!), but I really ought to get about the business of creating traditions so that when he does care we've got our bit down. You see, M & I have never cared too much about the holidays. Oh, we'll usually have some friends over for a big dinner (typically just an excuse to consume vast quantities of wine), but we've never erected a tree or purchased gifts for each other or sent cards to everyone we've ever known. But this year is different. For reasons unknown to me, it matters that this kid have fond memories of Christmas. He can abandon them himself when he's in college, but until then I will do my part.

First, X needed a stocking! What is Christmas without a stocking?! We found our old childhood stockings in a bin in the garage -- M's was a massive, misshapen sack & mine was so small I am certain Santa, finding it impossible to fit all my gifts into such a shrunken thing, gave them away to other kids (and to think my parents always stuffed an apple & an orange in the bottom! -that left room for the box Lifesavers & maybe one more tiny item! -cheapskates! - skinflints!). Hoping to give X a somewhat different experience, I whipped up a humongous patchwork stocking using some scraps from the neighbor's stash (thanks, neighbor!), & appliqued the oh-so-essential name at the top (how else is Santa to know where to stick the loot?): Next up --the all-important tree. Our house is far too small & cramped for a towering Doug Fir, so we opted for a cheap $5.00 Noble of somewhat smaller proportions. We tried to get a stand at Freddie's, but they were sold out, so we rigged up a pail with rocks in it & plunked it on a coffee table in the living room window. Classy, I know, but that's just how we roll! I swaddled the pail in shiny red wrapping paper & no one will be the wiser (certainly not the man of the hour -- he was smitten!):

I found a few straggler strings of Christmas lights in the mudroom. We had a bunch of red ones from our garage silk-screening days, & a blue one leftover from an earlier incarnation of our bedroom. I think the patriotic effect is a little bit much, but again, X could care less:
And lastly, the Christmas photo -- We did a family shoot, but for your sake I will leave that to the imagination. We made the mistake of shooting just before nap time, so there wound up being only 1 or 2 shots of X actually smiling. For the rest of them, he was a shattered little zombie (actually yawning in a few?! -what bad parents!). So, here is an out-take from an earlier baby-only shoot:
Now the only problem, as I see it, is the absence of a fireplace. How on earth is Santa Claus to make his entrance? -We intend to tell X that when Santa encounters the homes of those not fortunate enough to have chimneys, Santa (the devilishly improvising old fella!) enters the home via the toilet. The impact of this sort of narrative on potty-training may prove detrimental, however ("So, X -next time you're taking a crap & you hear a 'ho, ho, ho!' you'd better jump up quick!"...just in case you thought I was becoming a bit too normal with the whole Christmas cheer schtick...)