our GOOD Christmas
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Join Date: Nov 2007
Location: Minneapolis, Mn. Minnesota Alligator Controll
Posts: 286
our GOOD Christmas
One Christmas mourning for some reason my little sister & I woke up about
2 or 3 AM, we traditionaly opened our presents on Cristmas eve. every one was in bed sleeping and the house was absolutly dark except for the tree, we left it lit on that night. we snuck down stairs to play with our presents. hers where dolls of one kind or another, mine where lincoln logs or lego blocks, can't remember. we played for an hour or two, under the tree. While out side there was falling snow, those real large flakes all clumped together. probably
the first time I noticed how pretty it was, falling among the street lights, and other houses with their trees lit. it was great to play with no adults telling us how to play, and we where very quiet, as not to wake any one up.
Whats your best Christmas story
2 or 3 AM, we traditionaly opened our presents on Cristmas eve. every one was in bed sleeping and the house was absolutly dark except for the tree, we left it lit on that night. we snuck down stairs to play with our presents. hers where dolls of one kind or another, mine where lincoln logs or lego blocks, can't remember. we played for an hour or two, under the tree. While out side there was falling snow, those real large flakes all clumped together. probably
the first time I noticed how pretty it was, falling among the street lights, and other houses with their trees lit. it was great to play with no adults telling us how to play, and we where very quiet, as not to wake any one up.
Whats your best Christmas story
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Join Date: Dec 2006
Location: Stumbling toward happiness
Posts: 4,706
I once spent a Christmas in a castle. I had fled an abusive relationship and was traveling all around just to regain some of my confidence and clear my head/heart. On Christmas day I found myself in England, staying in a castle that had been converted to a youth hostel. I was the only guest there! In the little kitchen, I cooked a little chicken, some potatoes and peas. I wrote in my journal, and looked out at the stars from one of the turrets...and realized that my life had officially started over again, and that I had the freedom to make the rest of it whatever I wanted.
Merry Xmas to all, and to all a good (k)night
Merry Xmas to all, and to all a good (k)night
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Join Date: Dec 2007
Location: The Jungle
Posts: 5,435
Gary
Your story was so engaging that I could see it in my mind happening and it was beautiful. Children and Christmas are beautiful. Thank you for sharing. It made me smile.
I grew up in Colorado. I remember sitting on the floor by the back door (sliding glass door) with the lights off in the house but the porch light on... just watching those big fat snowflakes fall from a dark sky and pile up on the ground.
Even today, if I am feeling stressed or can't sleep, I picture those snowflakes falling falling falling softly......my stress level abates and I'll drift off to sleep.
It just doesn't get better than that.
gentle hugs to you
Your story was so engaging that I could see it in my mind happening and it was beautiful. Children and Christmas are beautiful. Thank you for sharing. It made me smile.
I grew up in Colorado. I remember sitting on the floor by the back door (sliding glass door) with the lights off in the house but the porch light on... just watching those big fat snowflakes fall from a dark sky and pile up on the ground.
Even today, if I am feeling stressed or can't sleep, I picture those snowflakes falling falling falling softly......my stress level abates and I'll drift off to sleep.
It just doesn't get better than that.
gentle hugs to you
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Join Date: Jan 2006
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Posts: 5,075
My favorite Christmas memories are that when we kids (4) were little, my dad would decorate the tree after we had all gone to bed. In the morning we all had to line up behind the louvered hall door until he went out and lit the lights. Of course, the wait was impossible. When we rushed out there, it was like that tree was magic. My dad continued to be the chief decorator. Our last Christmas with him, he was too sick to get off the couch, but he directed the placement of every ornament. He died a few weeks later, but that was one of the best Christmases I've ever had.
Thanks for prompting that great memory, gees.
Thanks for prompting that great memory, gees.
Wipe your paws elsewhere!
Join Date: Dec 2004
Posts: 3,672
Growing up, all my Christmases were wonderful. My mom just loved Christmas and she worked her butt off making each Christmas special for my six siblings and me. She would decorate every room in the house, make homemade Christmas gifts and ornaments for the tree, play Christmas music non-stop, engage my siblings and I in various Christmas craft projects, and bake cookies by the dozen.
On Christmas Eve, she'd dress all us kids in our Christmas finery and we'd all walk through the woods to attend the Christmas Eve service at our church. It was a candle light service with a lot of singing (mostly Christmas carols) and a very short sermon (yeah!).
After church, she'd approach a family from the congregation and invite them over to our house for Christmas Eve festivities. She'd serve hot chocolate, mulled cider, home-baked breads, cookies, and various snacks, including her famous guacamole dip.
Then she'd gather the children together and we'd each take turns taking a swing at a pinata (one of our yearly Christmas craft projects). One year, my little brother got a bloody nose when some over-enthusiastic guest took a wild backhand at the pinata. He was so busy waiting for the pinata to break and the candy to fall that he didn't notice the blood.
Our guests would leave by midnight and my mother, my sister, and I would rush around and clean up the house so it would be presentable for Santa. We always left him a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. I could never fall sleep on Christmas Eve. I was too excited to get my hands on my presents. So, I'd lie awake all night and listen to the sounds of my mother and father going up and down the stairs with their arms filled with packages. Sometimes, I could hear them playing with the gifts or I could hear my father complaining that it seemed that every gift that my mother bought required assembly. Imagine trying to assemble toys for seven children in one night. That probably explains why my father slept a good bit on Christmas Day. He probably pulled many all-nighters.
On Christmas morning, my parents would make us children wait on the steps while my father went downstairs to plug in the Christmas tree. My mom said he was checking to make sure Santa wasn't still there. I bought that lame story for years.
My father's mother (a fine Polish woman) aways spent the holidays with us. On the day after Christmas, we'd beg her to make us some traditional Polish dishes. Perogis and cabbage rolls were two of our favorites. She'd work all day making enough perogis to feed a family of nine. We kids would help with the task. She never used a recipe, but I helped often enough that I learned how carry on this family tradition. Now I make these same dishes for my daughter (though not often because making perogis is an all-day job).
Christmas at my house is quiet compared to the Christmases of my childhood. There's just me and my daughter. We open our gifts to each other and give the pooches their gifts, too. Then we make a nice breakfast and head over to my mother's house. My siblings and I gather there every year with our own children in tow. The house is full beyond capacity, packages are being ripped open faster than we can keep up with, the floor is impassable due to all the ribbons, bows, boxes, and paper. And the noise level is beyond belief. But it's a happy noise, so nobody seems to mind.
When all the gifts have been exchanged and opened, we settle down for our Christmas feast. We push the kitchen table, the dining table, and several card tables together. The table is so long that it runs from the family room through the dining room, and into the hallway. But we all squeeze around it and the food starts flowing.
My mother has filled all the Christmases of my lifetime with love, laughter, and joy. Now she's doing the same for her grandchildren and my daughter. Christmas is what you make of it. I hope everyone chooses to have a wonderful Christmas this year.
On Christmas Eve, she'd dress all us kids in our Christmas finery and we'd all walk through the woods to attend the Christmas Eve service at our church. It was a candle light service with a lot of singing (mostly Christmas carols) and a very short sermon (yeah!).
After church, she'd approach a family from the congregation and invite them over to our house for Christmas Eve festivities. She'd serve hot chocolate, mulled cider, home-baked breads, cookies, and various snacks, including her famous guacamole dip.
Then she'd gather the children together and we'd each take turns taking a swing at a pinata (one of our yearly Christmas craft projects). One year, my little brother got a bloody nose when some over-enthusiastic guest took a wild backhand at the pinata. He was so busy waiting for the pinata to break and the candy to fall that he didn't notice the blood.
Our guests would leave by midnight and my mother, my sister, and I would rush around and clean up the house so it would be presentable for Santa. We always left him a plate of cookies and a glass of milk. I could never fall sleep on Christmas Eve. I was too excited to get my hands on my presents. So, I'd lie awake all night and listen to the sounds of my mother and father going up and down the stairs with their arms filled with packages. Sometimes, I could hear them playing with the gifts or I could hear my father complaining that it seemed that every gift that my mother bought required assembly. Imagine trying to assemble toys for seven children in one night. That probably explains why my father slept a good bit on Christmas Day. He probably pulled many all-nighters.
On Christmas morning, my parents would make us children wait on the steps while my father went downstairs to plug in the Christmas tree. My mom said he was checking to make sure Santa wasn't still there. I bought that lame story for years.
My father's mother (a fine Polish woman) aways spent the holidays with us. On the day after Christmas, we'd beg her to make us some traditional Polish dishes. Perogis and cabbage rolls were two of our favorites. She'd work all day making enough perogis to feed a family of nine. We kids would help with the task. She never used a recipe, but I helped often enough that I learned how carry on this family tradition. Now I make these same dishes for my daughter (though not often because making perogis is an all-day job).
Christmas at my house is quiet compared to the Christmases of my childhood. There's just me and my daughter. We open our gifts to each other and give the pooches their gifts, too. Then we make a nice breakfast and head over to my mother's house. My siblings and I gather there every year with our own children in tow. The house is full beyond capacity, packages are being ripped open faster than we can keep up with, the floor is impassable due to all the ribbons, bows, boxes, and paper. And the noise level is beyond belief. But it's a happy noise, so nobody seems to mind.
When all the gifts have been exchanged and opened, we settle down for our Christmas feast. We push the kitchen table, the dining table, and several card tables together. The table is so long that it runs from the family room through the dining room, and into the hallway. But we all squeeze around it and the food starts flowing.
My mother has filled all the Christmases of my lifetime with love, laughter, and joy. Now she's doing the same for her grandchildren and my daughter. Christmas is what you make of it. I hope everyone chooses to have a wonderful Christmas this year.
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