Christmas Magic

The Ghost of Christmas Past

I remember being a wide-eyed child, mystified by the magic of the Christmas season and losing myself in the overwhelming sensory experiences.  The glowing TV brought animated holiday specials into my living room where I sat with the sugary remnants of cookies still clinging to my teeth and the smell of fresh pine from a brightly-lit tree hanging in the air.  The anticipation, seeing that empty spot beneath the tree and wondering what colorful packages Santa Claus would leave behind, would leave butterflies in my stomach as I lay awake in the darkness of my room, peering out the window hoping to catch the telltale glow of Rudolph's nose in the cold winter sky.

As I slowly grew older, the magic began to wear off.  Driving out in the snow to pick out the perfect Christmas tree was no longer met with the excited passion that it once was, nor was decorating it.  No longer did I rely on the innocent dreams of Santa Claus to get me through those long nights before Christmas morning; rather, I would hope to get everything on the list I drew up for my mom.  I eventually stopped watching for Rudolph, and I no longer had the Pavlovian response to the sound of bells that I used to when I was convinced it was the sound of Santa's sleigh.

In my most recent years, Christmas has meant very little beyond driving back to my hometown and eating dinner with my family.  It went from magic and innocence to forced obligations and consumer guilt.  It was a gradual decline nearly 26 years in the making.  This year, however, is different.

The Practice Christmas

This year is my practice Christmas.  It's our first holiday season together in our new home, our last Christmas together before our baby arrives.  Compelled by this overwhelming urge to create a traditional base on which to build our celebrations for years to come, this Grinch heart grew three sizes and decided to celebrate Christmas again.

Our tree reaches the ceiling, decorated in bright lights of multiple shapes, sizes and colors and glittering, shining bulbs; the Nativity scene I remember from my childhood has a place of honor in my living room surrounded by pine garland and poinsettias.  Four stockings hang from the chimney, two red and two green, beneath a bough of pine, candles and a candy jar full of red and green M&Ms.  The kitchen and the bathrooms all have holiday-themed hand soaps, and random Christmas trinkets decorate the first level of our house.

Wanting desperately to draw on my own cultural background for traditions, I contemplated baking Polish favorites, but marathon baking isn't one of the traditions I'm quite ready for yet.  Gingerbread was on the docket, but I had to take into consideration the traditions of the rest of my family:  I can't bring cookies to our Christmas Eve celebration because I've tried that before and no one eats them, as they're all used to my grandmother's sweets spread and any deviation from the norm is sacrilege, and on Christmas day, the palate of my almost-five-year-old twin cousins is more suited to the Rice Krispies treats* and cake balls I decided to make.

This year, Americans will spend an average of $741.00 on gifts.  On Black Friday alone, the 212 million eager consumers that flooded retail establishments looking for bargains spent an average of $365.34 to a total estimated tune of $45 billion... in one day.  This is one tradition we shirked this year, and I hope we can continue to limit ourselves in the future so the true meaning of Christmas isn't lost in the bowels of the economy as it so often is.

We'll see how well I can keep that promise when my little girl starts staying awake at night to watch the sky for Rudolph like another little girl I used to know.

*I made traditional marshmallow squares, and a nice seasonal minty chocolate variation, as well!