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Christmas Eve Chaos: The One Where We Went to Church Dirty and Avoided Our Friends
The morning of Christmas Eve 2019 in NorCal started like any other: frosty, sparkly, and bulging with practical anticipation. But the way it ended messed with my mind pride in ways I didn’t think possible. Without fail, every Christmas Eve of my whole life consisted of the same things: nice clothes, hair-sprayed hair, and a calmness about the impending church service. Cramming into as few cars as possible with aunts, uncles and grandparents, we drove the rainy or snowy roads to a large church and settled in. I was always happy to see people we knew, especially since we smelled great and looked put together. We chose seats toward the…
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It’s Beginning to Look a lot Like Chaos: 4 Ways I Fight the Christmas Crazy
If you’re anything like me, you would rather not be found sitting in a corner on Christmas morning, sucking on candy cane plastic and rocking to the beat of Santa Baby. I know if I run at the normal American pace though, I’ll be up wrapping gifts till three in the morning and sliding into Christmas slightly bitter and more coo-coo than ever. So I made some new choices this year. Not everyone will like all of them, but when I went back to work I think I added a bit of “I care less about what people think” to my résumé. I often describe this season as organized chaos.…
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My 2018 Favorite Christmas Gift Ideas
I couldn’t find a “Favorite Things” list for normal people with normal money, so I made my own. Unlike Oprah, my favorite gifts for Christmas don’t cost the same as a car payment or mortgage. Grouped from the five-dollar range to a fifty-dollar max, I did all the scouring so all you have to do is the clicking! To ring in the season, here are my faves…. Gimme $5! 1. Ginsco 7-pc Succulent Transplanting Minature Fairy Garde Planting Gardening Hand Tools Set The tiny tools with the giant name, perfect for the succulent addict. I gave these to my sister last year and they’re so stinkin’ cute. Don’t…
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Mary, Did You Sew? My Questions for the Mother of Jesus
Dear Mary, Is it true you weren’t in a barn when you gave birth? Was it better than what artists always draw? I hope it was better. Smart people who study your era tell us it was probably a cave. That doesn’t sound better. I gave birth in a sterile building, complete with a bed, fire sprinklers and female helpers who tended to my needs until a blurry-eyed man ran in with untied shoes to catch my son so he didn’t touch the ground. And it still hurt like hell-o. I don’t know many young teenage girls who could have done what you did. I see you wrapped in…
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The Secret Society of Christmas Anxiety: How to Calm the Expectations
No pressure, but have you poured your own candles with beeswax from your backyard colony yet? …gotten your hollyhock dipped and your mattress flipped? …added plumbing to your gingerbread house? …drained your hot tub and refilled it with mulled cider, orange slices and cinnamon sticks? Is there a wreath on your grill and a candle on your sill? …gold glitter on your babysitter? …a candy cane on your windowpane? …jingle bells on your dusted shelves? Good tidings, no. Martha Stewart’s still alive and well, but let’s all give an eight-clap to the fact we don’t live in the ‘90s anymore. If she wants to stencil her driveway, God bless…
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Last Christmas in Baja? Wrestling with the Unknown and Another Big Move
The C9 bulbs sit snug and proud, wrapped around the palm. It’s fat, freshly trimmed, and still full of green. Through the fall and into winter, palms don’t change. “It looks like a pineapple,” my husband says. “A glowing one.” He’s right; our own tropical Christmas. But whose kids are those? The holiday is celebrated here, yes, but you have to drive to the cities to see red and green explosions alongside gifts in excess. A peek into our low-income town will show you single strands of dim lights, old-school decor and a few lawn ornaments you might consider tacky. Big deal. We who possess bright white…
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Christmas Card Burnout: Why I Chose to Stop Sending the Iconic Greeting
They were part of the tradition, part of the joy and part of the expectation. I can still see piles of cards in front of my mother. Her beautiful handwriting graced fronts of envelopes as she diligently wrote out addresses and duplicated ours in every lefthand corner. She composed classic Christmas letters with my father, describing the most interesting bits of our year and excluding all the sibling rivalry—mostly caused by me. Personal greetings inside sturdy cards of snow-scenes no doubt left each recipient feeling remembered and loved. Add an Olan Mills, lick a tasty stamp and bam—Christmas spirit. For all I know she lovingly placed them…
