merry merry

…………..

In my house, we have very few Christmas traditions. We usually eat the same thing, but that started maybe… 3 or 4 years ago? And it’s not an especially Christmas-y meal (beef stroganoff. and wine, but i drink sparkling cider because i have no culture). My mother usually gets a little tipsy and starts singing Christmas carols.

There are, however, a few things that one can count on hearing if one spends time with my family over the holiday. I had to explain this to Chad, who is spending his first real Christmas with us.

First and foremost is a musical version of A Christmas Carol, called Scrooge (Albert Finney is in it!). Only once you’ve seen this film will you understand how a song with a chorus containing the phrase “I hate people” can put you in a festive mood. My family has a VHS tape of the movie that’s almost as old as I am; this tape will be laid to rest now that I have procured a copy on DVD.

The second “tradition” is my father slinking into our rooms with his video camera, capturing us at our most attractive and most Christmas-spirited. We then sit at the top of the stairs until my parents decide we can come down (the camera, positioned at the bottom of the staircase, ensures that none of will be showing our makeup-free faces before we’re called down.

My mother, once we’re all settled and set to open our presents, always, always makes the suggestion that we open our gifts one at a time. We always, always laugh and say “no” with as much Christmas-spirited exasperation we can muster.

We lay around, drinking coffee and telling stories until my grandmother calls. She’s at the family Christmas party- where are we? Showers are taken quickly (and after the first 2, the water always runs cold) and we pile into the car with packages stuffed in every free space. Stuffed animals make excellent, if loud, pillows.

The Christmas party always involves sitting in my uncle’s garage. (I began boycotting this a few years ago. Now I stake out a spot on the couch when we arrive, family togetherness be damned.) My grandmother walks around force-feeding as many people as she can and responding the many many jokes that so-and-so is still hungry. We’re loud and festive and generally the same as we are every day of the year. (We’re Italian; being obnoxious runs in our blood.)

Merry Christmas!