I think any kid would tell you that the best part of Christmas is December 25th when Santa has visited and left all those goodies under the tree. Or, if you are allowed to open presents on Christmas Eve (which I was not), it might be December 24th. That’s Christmas, after all.
I fully believed that all the way through until high school, long after waiting for “Santa” ended. That is, until one of my teachers was trying to prove a point in English class. She said, “After all, the best part of Christmas isn’t Christmas morning! It’s the days leading up to Christmas that are the good part. It’s the anticipation of Christmas, not Christmas itself that is the best!” I remember how we all laughed at her and shook our heads in disbelief. Of course the best time was Christmas morning!
Over the years I have come to agree with her. When you are opening up all your presents on Christmas morning, the end of Christmas is fast approaching. Then come some family events and everyone is on to New Year’s. I like the weeks leading up to Christmas; finding the perfect present, making plans to bake, buying some new decorations, wondering what Santa is going to bring you…
Each year I look at all the home magazines and the perfectly decorated Christmas trees and perfectly laid tables. I drool over the exotic turkey recipes and the sugary cookie confections. I look forward to making plans with family and friends and think about all the wonderful outfits I could wear. The Christmas music and holiday shows are new and fresh; friends from years past. By the time Christmas morning rolls around I realize I never did attempt those almond balls, my tree looks bare from the back, my apartment wasn’t transformed into a winter wonderland, and I look fat from the knees up in every picture. I am sick of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer and Mariah Carey’s latest Christmas hit. The thought of even having to go out for milk sends me into paroxysms of fear over traffic and parking and I am praying that the snow holds off until after our day of driving. Presents need to be returned, hangovers need to be nursed, and the pressure to have the perfect New Year’s Eve is on to make up for the stress-filled holiday begins. For many, there is also the thought that the next day means back to work for a few unproductive days before the 31st.
I love Christmas Eve the most. When you are spending time with family, eating turkey, and wondering Santa is going to stop at your house. You can indulge in the goodies and one last Christmas movie together until new video games and books take your attention. Perhaps you go to church and everything is filled with Christmas hymns and candles. Carollers are out in full force and all along the street houses are lit up with family all cozy inside. Those traditions are the ones that I hold most dear and I wish would last just a little bit longer. Unless Santa is bringing me those books that were on my Santa list. In that case…see ya next year Christmas Eve, I’m moving right into Christmas morning!
The holiday season is upon us and the parties are starting up. From a work party, to house parties, to dinner parties, to New Year’s and everything in between, the question on most women’s mind is “What do I wear?” Well, there are a plethora of commercials, magazines and blogs to help you decide what works and how to dress your body type. Frankly, I don’t really care what I wear because as Facebook has shown me, people will take unflattering pictures of me and then post them online, no matter how much I suck in, or stand on a ¾ angle. I swear I don’t look like a beach ball with arms in real life! I also have a chin, don’t have size GGG breasts, or a lazy eye. Just sayin’. I am inevitably disappointed with how I look in most holiday pictures because in my head I’m a 5’10” supermodel from Victoria’s Secret.
So. This year I am declaring an embargo on taking pictures form the knees up. Let’s just focus on the shoes, shall we? And this year I would love to be rocking one of these awesome styles.
Jewels and Feathers and Suede, Oh My!
Drinking Champagne While Wearing Champagne...If I Drank Champagne
I Think I'm On the Naughty List.
A Little Bit of Shine Goes Along Way.
Not Your Mama's Mrs. Claus! What would the holidays be without a pop of red? Plus, the height gets your lips closer to Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome. Pucker up!
These are just some of the wonderfully sparkly, bedazzled, and colorful shoes for the holiday. Plus, they all go with black which is my holiday clothing colour of choice. Hopefully all eyes (and lenses) will be drawn to my feet and I will be the first person tagging myself in holiday photo albums.
What shoes will you be wearing this holiday season?
Posted in At Home, Family on 10/30/2011 08:00 am by Jenn
New Years Day has always held a special place in my heart. I come from a very large family (my Dad has 11 brothers and sisters) and every year all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins would converge on my house for a party. My Mom would be up all night preparing, shopping and cleaning to get ready for the descent into madness. The cousins would play and rough-house in the basement, while my aunts would be in the kitchen offering my Mom help (which she would usually refuse). My uncles would be holed up in the basement smoking and drinking and playing cards. It would take weeks for the smoke to clear from the basement, even with the double doors that opened out to the backyard. It was a pretty chilly place to be for the whole month of January.
My Aunt Judy and Uncle Brian would always be the first to arrive with their kids Michael and Steve. They were also the last to leave. Steve used to team up with my cousin Shannon and they would antagonize the smaller ones. It would end up with us all piling on them in an attempt to body slam them to the floor. Hey, what can I say? My family loved the WWE. Small dramas would play out in the kitchen. With six sisters someone is bound to be having an argument with someone else. I think of all the time Stephtastic and I spent fighting as kids and I can only imagine what it would be like times 6! Sometimes the kids would sneak up and try to eavesdrop until one of our aunts noticed and booted us back down to the basement.
Of course, the men would stay out of it. If you could pick the place furthest from the kitchen, that’s where they would be; in the furthest corner of the basement holed up around the table playing poker until the late hours of the night. After that night there would literally be cases upon cases of empties stacked in the basement waiting to be returned, the yeasty smell combining with the smoke smell. It sounds gross, but it is kind of comforting. Stale beer still makes me a little nostalgic.
There were also small (and large) dramas played out amongst the cousins. There was definitely a hierarchy at play there. Older siblings would hide from younger siblings because they were annoying. Younger siblings would try to find older siblings because they wanted to annoy them. There are three very notable incidences from this time that I remember so well.
As you can imagine there is quite the spread in ages between the cousins. I won’t even try to guess the oldest cousin’s age (and I certainly wouldn’t broadcast it on the internet. The youngest first cousin in my extended family is actually my brother. So, when some of us were in our early teens, others were older and dating, and occasionally their partner could be dupedconvinced threatened within an inch of their life to come. Once when we were playing hide and seek a few of us decided to hide in the bathtub and our cousin’s boyfriend came in. We just about died, we really didn’t want him to pee in front of us, but we also didn’t want to be caught hiding there looking like perverts. Before we could make up our mind on a course of action, my cousin came in and they started making out. Well, that was just about as much as we could take and we were convulsing in fits of silent laughter. I think we were just relieved he didn’t drop trou. They ended up leaving after a short amount of time and we burst out laughing and shouting “oh my god!” My cousin didn’t ever bring him around again, and I don’t think she ever found out that we were in there. Unless she happens to read this. In which case…um…moving on…
One of my cousins, who is close to my age, has a sister Stephtastic’s age. Of course it was “us versus them” mentality and we frequently refused to play with them, or let them in my room. One time Stephtastic and the younger sister went missing for a while. We were all playing nicely when we realized the two of them hadn’t been by to bother us in a while. We went to look for them and it was a good thing we did. We finally found them in the furnace room dressing our dog up in a pink party dress. The moment we opened the door the dog went shooting out and ran around the basement in paroxysms of fear. We couldn’t believe that they would dress up the dog; we also couldn’t believe they spent so much time doing it.
The third most memorable thing that happened was again an “us versus them” moment. My cousin Chris was close to my age and he had two younger brothers. We were running around trying to get rid of them and decided to go into the spare bedroom. We raced in there and tried slamming the door, but it wouldn’t close. Figuring his brothers were pushing on it, Chris took a running jump and slammed his whole body in it. There was a second of silence and then an ear-splitting scream. All we could hear were the pounding of footsteps as the aunts came to investigate. It turns out Chris’ brother had his finger in the door and when it closed, it did so on that. His finger was smushed completely and he was howling. All Chris and I could say was, “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!” Luckily, his brother was very young at the time and when you are young your bones are almost soft, so his finger literally bounced back. Also, someone thought to distract him by offering him a cookie at which he promptly stopped crying and started saying, “Cookie? Cookie? More cookie?” Yeah, Chris and I were pretty lucky that day.
My cousin Shannon passed away in a tragic accident when I was in my early teens. I always think of him when I hear “Poison” by Bell Biv DeVoe. My cousin Chris passed away about 10 years ago, also due to a tragic accident.
Earlier this year we lost my Aunt Judy to cancer. Last Friday we lost my Uncle Bruce due to an illness that set in quickly, and the negligence of the hospital staff. Two days later on Sunday night, my Uncle Gary passed away after a long illness. In each case they have left behind family that loves them and will miss them terribly.
I hate getting older, when you aren’t shielded from death and you are forced to deal with it more frequently. I hate that everyone is getting older and diseases like cancer claim more of my family. I hate that I can remember being out with my Dad and having him go say hello to someone he knew, only to find out he was the director of the funeral home (who was a lovely man, it’s just not someone you want to know through their “work”). I hate that needless deaths occur and there is nothing you can do to prevent them.
I hate that I don’t know what to say to make it better. I am a “do-er”, I like to solve problems and tackle problems head-on. It is not a good feeling to know that you can’t do anything except just be there as a passive participant. I know everyone has these stories. I know everyone can relate. I know that if it were happening to a member of my immediate family, I don’t know what I would need from my friends and family.
I love having these memories of New Year’s Day. I love that growing up I had such a positive experience and a chance to reconnect with my cousins. With such a large family, it can be difficult keeping up with everyone. I’m not entirely sure why we stopped having New Year’s Day, but when I get a house of my own, I think I may try and bring it back. After all there are a lot of second and third cousins that could benefit from the camaraderie and fun these parties bring. Also, I’m pretty sure Steve wants to prove he can still body slam someone. With marriages, divorces, births and deaths things change really quickly. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that basement. Yeasty beer, smoke smells, and all.
