Funny Guy Friday... Christmas traditions...

     Funny Guy Friday is written each week by my husband Mark. So... I married a funny guy...
     Like most families, we have our normal Christmas traditions... like hunting for the perfect Christmas tree... attending Mass on Christmas Eve (or Christmas morning if Matthew happens to be serving)... putting up the outdoor lights... and watching our favorite Christmas movies.
     However, some of our Christmas traditions are not so normal. For instance, every year, I announce that all shopping will be completed by December 23rd, and every year, we get up early on December 24th to run out to get "one last thing." That early morning shopping for that "one last gift" usually runs into the early afternoon, putting us behind schedule on the day's itinerary of DOING ABSOLUTELY NOTHING until we go to church and to dinner at our friends' home.
     Usually, that one gift is something that our kids failed to mention the first twelve hundred times they recited what they wanted for Christmas and then failed to mention when they were sitting on Santa's lap. They bring it up on December 23rd just to irritate me.
     Speaking of Santa, I am not sure how they do it, but the folks that run the Annapolis Mall have the real Santa Claus locked up under a lifelong service contract. They do not fool around with one of the "helpers" that you see on fire trucks in your local neighborhood or at the local Garden Store. Don't get me wrong, those guys are good, but my kids do not waste their energy asking for gifts from the fake Santas. Heck, they might as well be sitting on my lap asking for stuff for as much good it will do them.
     Grace is sixteen years old and every Christmas picture of her for the past sixteen years is with the real Santa. I know he is the real Santa because he remembers us every year. And I don't mean the insincere hello that you get when people pretend to remember you. No sir, he gives us a hello, greets us by name and recalls the time we saw him during the big snow storm two years ago when we were the only ones in the mall. He had sat with us for more than thirty minutes that snowy day.
     I love Santa, and I truly believe in his magical powers.
     Anyway, as parents, we all know that Santa can't possibly bring everything on the list, so we pay careful attention when our kids rattle off the booty they hope to acquire on Christmas morning. We hope to hear mention of those deeply desired treasures so we can fill in Santa's gaps.
     This year it was a little different because our kids had relatively small lists, and over time, Noah has devised a diabolical plan of asking Santa for one gift before politely adding, Plus whatever surprises that you want to bring me. Surprises! What surprises? Polite to a fault. He has deployed this strategy for three years now, and judging by the size of his Christmas pile, it seems to be working well.
     Why can't he be obnoxious like every other kid and ask for everything under the sun. This does not happen often, but sometimes I wish Noah were more like his father than his mother.
     Speaking of his mother, she has started her own tradition. About three days before Christmas, Cheryl will announce that she is way ahead of where I usually am this time of year. This announcement makes me very hopeful that she has done all the wrapping and we will get to bed at a decent hour. Alas, every year she has done no wrapping (usually because of the last minute, Christmas Eve shopping spree mentioned above). Santa has his elves to help out with the wrapping and Cheryl has me... the grouchy elf.
     These late nights have given rise to one of my personal favorite traditions. In fact, this year, after we opened our gifts and had our Christmas breakfast, I sat on our couch with that far away look in my eyes. Cheryl asked what I was thinking. A bit embarrassed to be caught day dreaming I gave the usual response that men give... nothing.
     You have to be thinking of something, she declares, as she snuggles up next to me, gently lifting my arm and placing it around her shoulder. Are you thinking about how Jesus came to us as a baby? Are you thinking about how great our kids are? Are you thinking about your family and Christmases from long ago? C'mon, 'weetie, tell me what were you thinking. 
     Well, I was thinking that I can't wait to get to your mom and dad's house so I can take my Christmas  
nap on their white couch! That's it, that's all I was thinking!
     I don't typically sleep when I go over to my in-laws, but I make an exception on Christmas. It is our last stop of the day, and by that time, I am just looking for a place to fall. I take my spot on the white couch while gifts are being exchanged and wait for the right time to doze off.
     I have no shame. If the whole couch is available, I will lay down and take up the entire couch. If someone is next to me, I may just lay my head on his shoulder. This year it happened to be my brother-in-law's sister, whom I may see only three times a year or so. She is not even a blood relative, for crying out loud. She's not a relative by any definition of the word. I gave her fair warning but she didn't move. My conscience is clear.
     And get this... I can actually open gifts while sleeping. This year, when we got in the car, I had to ask the kids if they were in the room when I opened my gift. I was trying to find out what Grammie gave me. I can't explain it except... it is a Christmas miracle!
     I love that couch and I truly believe in it's magical powers!
     Two final family traditions involve some old friends and some relatively new friends. Nothing really funny about the stories, but they both really capture the truly magical power of Christmas.
     I grew up across the street from my best friend PJ. Every year, he and his wife invite us to share Christmas Eve dinner with their family. They prepare a feast that includes crab cakes, crab dip, a variety of cheese and crackers, Caesar salad, clams, muscles, oysters, and pasta. The meal is followed by a variety of Italian desserts.
     This year, both of our mothers attended the dinner. Old friends and neighbors that probably have not seen each other in more than twenty years. A few years ago, I found an old picture of PJ and
me when we were maybe six and seven years old (I still remember the day that I found out that he was a year older than I. He received an invitation to kindergarten and I did not. One of the worst days of my life). I put the photo in a frame and I gave it to him as a gift.
     During a break between food courses, PJ had everyone recall the best Christmas gift that they had ever received. I chose the lifesaver packages that I got every year growing up... and still get every year... from my best friend PJ. He told the group that the picture that he got from me was his favorite ... Although, he did manage to slip in a complaint that I had been wearing clean clothes that day, and he was in an old ratty shirt with dirt all over his face. What can I say? We grew up on different sides
of the tracks! Well, there really were no tracks; we just lived on the clean side of the street.  
     PJ has a seven-year-old son, and we have Noah, who is eight. Since our mothers were present, we took a picture with our sons and our mothers. Great idea for next year's gift.
     The final family tradition involves our friends, Ken and Mary. Before Cheryl and I were married, I bought a house across the street from them. They were nice... kind of kept to themselves a bit. Then after Cheryl and I were married, we got to know them much better because... well, er uh... because Cheryl would actually talk to them. In retrospect, it could have been I that kept to myself. Anyway, we became great friends and every year, we make it a point to get together with them for dinner or lunch during the Christmas holiday. Including our three kids, Ken and Mary have three grand kids.
     Here is the dirty little secret: they are not really our kids' grand parents. But please don't tell Ken and Mary because I would hate for them to treat my kids any differently than they do. In fact, they treat us all like we are one big family.
     Mary may be the best gift wrapper in the world. She can get five outfits in a regular size box, and the box does not appear to be bursting at the seams. Lately, she has not been feeling all that great so she did not get out to shop for the usual five outfits per kid box. Instead, they gave the kids a greeting card with a Visa gift card inside. Noah excitedly exclaimed that they gave him their VISA credit card. I excitedly opened my gift, hoping for their American Express card.
     I think that my kids do love all of our Christmas traditions, even the goofy ones. More importantly, they get the true meaning of Christmas. Noah can recite Linus's That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown speech, but more importantly, he understands it. When he heard someone complaining about the gift they received, he muttered that Christmas is not about what you get but about the King
of Kings. 
     Our kids love spending time with our family and our friends, and they love giving a gift as much as receiving one. They love the time that they spend at my brothers' and my in-laws on Christmas day. They love their time with Ken and Mary and the dinner with Mr. PJ's family. Every year, they ask the same questions... Are we going to see the Gossetts'?... Are we going to Mr. PJ's for dinner? Are we going to Uncle Jeff's? Are we going to Grammy and Grampy's?
     Each year the answer is the same...Of course we are, it is a tradition.
     I hope you all had a Merry and Blessed Christmas!