Day Five 2016

The year without a Santa Claus…

Imagine if you will, a year without Santa.  Ok, I have said before that Kathleen and I did not do Santa with our boys, because of…reasons.  But imagine that you were a child that did believe in Santa and that suddenly one year, he didn’t come.  You still have Christmas, but it’s not as shiny, not as bright, not as joyful.  That is some of what I am feeling now.  I am not naive enough to believe that the whole world should be joyful this time of year, but just for 25 days I would like MY life to be joyful.  At the very least, I’d like to not be depressingly sad.

So, rather than dwell on the latest hurt, let’s talk about Christmas 1998.  Now the year before, Christmas 1997 had been an amazing year, Kathleen was pregnant with Paul, my Mom and my sister Jenni surprised us right before our party and stayed through Christmas.  That wasn’t the only surprise, Steph and Clyde came up from Wister of course, and Brian and Kathy Gibson came to the party, and Brian Stephens drove all the way from Colorado to be there, bringing his dog Odie, who was mostly chow with him.  My favorite thing about Odie was that she was our dog Angel’s puppy.  How a Chihuahua/dachshund gave birth to a part chow puppy, I’ll never know, but it’s true. 

Our townhouse was filled with people, and I paid Baby Scott $7.85 to take peoples coats up the stairs to my bedroom, so I wouldn’t have to run up and down the stairs.  Why $7.85?  I offered him $5 but he told me he needed $7.85 because he was saving for a street hockey set to use with his roller blades.  Ahh the 90’s.  With bargaining tactics like that, how could I refuse?

The living room held the largest tree we’d had to date, elevated ceilings made a giant 7 foot tree a necessity. There were candles everywhere, and white twinkle lights.  Kathleen looked lovely in black velvet and pearls, and Stephanie was beautiful in a black top with bejeweled buttons and vibrant head scarf.  Elisa Gail’s Christmas dress from me was crushed red velvet and cream lace, and her shoes fit her fine that year.

The menu was the epitome of pre-2001 menus.  The ‘yard of beef’ beef stick, an assortment of cheeses, a round cheese ball (thank you Mary Price for the recipe) and a cheese log, the veggie tray had my dill dip, and the spinach dip.  I also made a version of a veggie dip with tofu because my Mom and Jenni were vegan that year (although I saw Jenni eating cookies and drinking eggnog). We had cranberry punch, and eggnog, and plenty of ‘grown up’ drinks.  For desserts there were 3 types of fudge, (chocolate, peanut butter, and butterscotch), cookies, and tiny angel shaped mints that were dipped in white chocolate.  

All this description to say, it was a good year. A very good year.  An extraordinary year.  We felt surrounded by our family and people who loved us, and were looking forward to becoming parents. I have heard it said that you can;t always tell when you are happiest becuase you are thinking about other things, but I think we knew we were happy, blissfuly happy, and not in tune enough to know that it wasn't likely to come around again.

Christmas party 1998 was not that.  It was possibly as far from that as could be. I had been training for 8 weeks in Tulsa for a new job, living in an apartment Mon-Fri and coming home on the weekends.  Kat was working in MWC, and struggling as a single mom.  We knew at Thanksgiving that Stephanie and Clyde and Elisa Gail would not be coming for the party and unless some miracle occurred, it was not likely Stephanie would be attending any more.

I finished training a week before the party, at the ‘graduation’ they announced that the company had filed for bankruptcy but not to worry, it would be business as usual. I came back to Oklahoma City and worked 3 days, Monday night they announced the company wide Christmas party had been canceled, but not to worry, business as usual.  Tuesday they announced that all the new hires that had all the fabulous benefits that were supposed to kick in January 1, would have to wait 6 months, minimum. But not to worry, business as usual.  Wednesday night after work they said, anyone who had the company insurance, should not use their insurance, until after the first of the year. But not to worry… It looked like the writing was on the wall; I had lunch with my former boss on Thursday and asked for my At The Beach job back, and got the ok to start back on the Monday after our party.

  

So, overall, not in a good place getting ready for the party.  Wednesday night I think Kat suggested changing the menu, completely.  So we did, we still had fudge, and eggnog, but we subbed in hot apple cider, and no cookie press cookies, just chocolate chip style cookies.  No beef stick and cheeseball, instead we did an interesting soy sauce soaked cream cheese spread sprinkled with toasted sesame seeds.  Kat added a warm appetizer of sliced sweet potatoes with a dollop of sour cream and sprinkle of fresh dill. 

Instead of decorating the house with a big tree and all the trimmings, I hung the twinkle lights from the ceiling beams and that was it.  Kat put her nativity on the mantle and we called it done.  

The crowd was smaller too.  Some years when the party is closer to Christmas we have a smaller crowd, so we weren’t expecting a big turn out, but I think all told we had 8-10.  The Powells were there, and the Allens, and Najah and Karen Hylton, and Mike and Donita Fisher, and Tammy Johnson.  That was it.  

Even though it was smaller, the party was lovely, and there was lots of laughter.  How could any party with my Paul not be full of laughter?  Every person that came in the door surprised him and he yelled HEY! At them, as though asking ‘where did you come from?’  Paul and Katie and Riley played and had fun until there was no more fun to be had.  Then Katie and Riley went home and Paul got his jammies, and Najah held him for the longest time, and she explained how the parties where everyone comes are all the same, everyone telling her how much she has grown and how much she looks like her mom.  This may have been the year she asked if we knew any other black people we could invite in the future.

What did we learn that year? That year that didn’t shine as brightly as the year before? That year that held the promise of future loss?  That even in the darkest nights that we are not alone, that our family is here, that people we love as though they are family are here, that my Paul can always make me smile, and that even when I can’t see God in any of this, maybe He is still here.

Party recap part one.

This year’s party is over, done with, and on the books. It certainly goes down as a memorable one.

Ordinarily I say don’t reveal what the plan was, only what the results were, focus on what went right, not what didn’t get done. I am making an exception tonight only because so many things fell short of the goal. Sigh.

So I was an hour late to the party, for starters. After setting up, (for HOURS longer than anticipated) the boys and I went home to get Kat, then to Nolen & Elisa’s to get food, then drop everyone off at the venue. Then I took Matthew and his friend Brittney to collect his friend Romeo and get the eggnog. That is when I realized that I had left the punch ladles at home. I had to stop at the store and purchase soup ladles to serve beverages with.  In the mean time, Kat made the punch wrong (totally not her fault).

Also, we had no ice. Who has a party without ice?  The white wine wasn’t chilled.  We forgot the champagne.  Even though the dessert table was lovely with the silver serving platters and bowls, Kat felt it was bare in comparison to the savory tables. 

I forgot, again, to take pictures of the centerpieces, but luckily Katie Powell remembered and did an amazing job.  But I forget to get a family picture, or at the least a picture with Kat. Sigh.

So, with all that went wrong, how was the party?

Kathleen says that Christmas doesn’t begin for her until the party.  What I learned this year is that, like Christmas, it is going to come anyway. It will come without chocolate covered pretzels; it will come without pictures, without ladles, without ice, without champagne. It came without ribbons, It came without tags. It came without packages, boxes or bags…Then I thought of something I hadn't before. What if Christmas… doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more?

What are you wearing?

"What are you wearing?"

Taken without context that question can go several ways.  There is the creepy late night phone call version of the question made famous recently by Jake from State Farm.  Then there is the Project Runway, ‘OMG what are you wearing, you are a hot tranny mess’ version of the question.  Neither of those is a great way to begin a Christmas blog.

But then there is the version that genuinely asks “What are you going to wear to the party?  What qualifies as Festive Attire?”  What is festive for you?  Some people find OU  Sooner red to be festive attire.  My nieces Rachel & Julia Beth have shown up in everything from jeans to pretty pretty party dresses.  When my niece Elisa was little, I decided what was festive and I was allowed to choose all manner of pretty holiday party dresses.  When she was 12 or 13 and told me no more, I was DEVASTATED.  Don’t mock me, it was a hard time. 

Now that Matthew is the same age I realize how lucky I was she humored me that long.  Tonight Matthew and I have had several long, unresolved conversations about what he will wear tomorrow.  Last year he had a really great outfit that he chose with the red skinny jeans and white shirt.  This year he can’t be bothered to even talk about it.  He keeps saying he will just wear the shirt from thanksgiving.  Which is fine, really, except for one small thing. . . I can’t find the stupid shirt. Anywhere.  I am not unconvinced that he has hidden it.

He has a cute red sweater that was Paul’s, but he just rolls his eyes.  He has a drawer of hand me down shirts from Baby Scott, but he dismisses those saying they don’t fit, (untrue).  He has a green corduroy shirt that Is very Christmassy, but I had to wrestle him into it the last time he wore it.  I even offered his hand me down Hawaiian shirt, but that got another no.

When I asked him what he plans to do if the thanksgiving shirt can’t be found, he said he’s just wear regular clothes.  Which again, I don’t really hate, except that his ‘regular clothes’ are long sleeve shirts that have either ‘property of ATB established 1987’ on the front, or the Blend lotion logo.  I appreciate his loyalty to At The Beach, but is it too much to ask that one night, the night of the party, he not wear the ATB brand?

Paul told me not to worry, because he is going to get dressed up for sure.  He has friends from school coming and he wants to look nice.  I asked what he was going to wear.  He has chosen one of his Hawaiian shirts and cargo pants. With his newly shaved head. 

I remember when my boys were small, and cute and I could dress them like Christmas elves if I wanted to.  It wasn’t that long ago was it?

Full disclaimer I haven’t made a decision about what I am going to wear yet either.  If things continue to go the way they are, I will wear those wide red santa style suspenders. 

Christmas time in 10-sel town. . .

Some Christmas moments are orchestrated and some just happen. Our Christmas party is something that just happened, that now has become something that requires a lot of orchestration, but that is another story. Last night’s Christmas moment just happened.

Last Monday Matthew and I put up the tree. Paul wanted to help, but he had homework that was taking too long. After we got the tree up and the lights on, we waited to do the ornaments until everyone could participate. Tuesday night was haircuts, so we didn’t decorate. Wednesday night IT was 6 before I left the office and there was more homework. Thursday night Matthew had a drum performance and Paul had a youth party at church. Last night was another church event, but when we got home I was determined to make this happen.

The boys helped me bring the ornaments up from the basement, but then Paul disappeared while Matthew hung ornaments. I finally got Paul to come back and the tree was half decorated. We finished decorating the tree, Paul put the angel on top, then fighting ensued and Matthew went upstairs in a mood. Sigh. Boys.
Since my Paul was still willing to be involved in something I had him get my train set from the closet. I got this Lionel electric train set when I was a first grader. My 13 year old son, who is taller and broader than I am crawled under the tree and hooked up tracks, then unhooked them and re-hooked them, ran the cord under the tree and helped get the train set up. Then he helped test it, and made adjustments, and then played with it for about half an hour.

I am sorry that my Matthew missed out. But I am not sorry for that sweet interlude where my Paul was still a child, my child, who was having fun. I know that being a teenager is about shedding the child he was and becoming the man he will be, and I am excited about that process. I love the glimpses I see of that man, but I miss that boy, so I am going to hold onto those moments when I get them.