The first time I spent Christmas away from home didn't feel much like Christmas. I was looking for the familiar treats, people and traditions. Nothing was quite like a normal celebration at home. And I found myself saying, "We always..." But then, as I looked back over all those Christmases what stands out are the memories of when things were different, or just wrong. Like the time my parents went out Christmas Eve and left my brothers and I at home. Things got a bit rambunctious and ended with me falling into and toppling over our tree. All the ornaments were smashed and I felt like I had ruined Christmas. I don't remember any of the presents I received that year, or for many years after. I do remember the stress of trying to buy presents for my brothers and then doing the utmost to disguised them under the tree. Nothing was ever a surprise in that department. And I remember my mother finally breaking down and asking us to buy our own presents, which she would wrap and put under the tree. Only one year she forgot my much desired pair of new jeans. We spent quite a time searching for the present which we finally found in the back of a cupboard.
Other memories include my baby brother getting into the spirit of the party games and whacking someone on the head with a bat. My older brother arrived from college one year, and was hidden inside a present. For some reason we thought it was a good idea to have my youngest brother open the box with him in it, scaring him half to death.
Our guest list for Christmas Day was different every year, yet I missed those gathering so much, that I tried skipping Christmas altogether if I couldn't be back home. So I spent Christmas in Argentina and Egypt, as just another tourist. My first attempt to make Christmas away from home was in Bulgaria after Jake was born. We ordered a tree through the US Embassy and bought cheap lights which promptly melted and burned up on the tree. On the 25th Jon went rock climbing and I took Jake by tram to eat at the newly opened McDonalds. We were hardly settling into new traditions.
Since then we have had several hot Christmases in Rio, Brazil, where sometimes it was necessary to cool off in the pool after roasting the bird. We always tell of the eggnog that arrived with a guest late for the party. He promptly dumped the whole mixture down the drain after spending a frustrating 3 hours driving around with the eggnog in the heat trying to find our address. We didn't feel much like feasting, and even less excited about baking.
The guest list became smaller when we moved to Kwajalein, and less stressful. We might spend the day on the beach and relax. The days leading up to the holiday were the challenge. The few flights carrying mail were numbered. We would anxiously await at the postoffice to find out if our packages had arrived, or if Christmas would have to be postponed. I remember how I watched others bike home loaded with boxes jealously. It became an all too common excuse, "It's on its way..." In the same way we searched in vain for ingredients in the only on-island grocery. One year we only had a turkey because one of my sons won it on the annual Turkey Trot Running Club event.
Over the years, Christmas has become less stressful, more special, and more than a bit humorous. I no longer worry about the roasting of the turkey, or whether I will find time to make cookies. This is due both in part to my 'lightening up', taking things less seriously, and to the fact that I am sharing the event wholly with my growing sons. I no longer feel like I have to make Christmas happen, that it is all about my efforts. For example, my son grew impatient for gingerbread, and decided to take on the decorating himself.
Gift giving has always been difficult for me. I noticed that my sons don't even take their gifts with them when they take off after the holidays. There is discussion about returns, but it doesn't happen. This year my son refused to give us anything to go on. He is traveling light, and can only use money. So since he was going to leave whatever I gave him behind anyway, I decided to give him something useful that reminded me of him. He got his own pan, sifter and coffee, along with a wallet and credit card. He got the joke.
I hope my children always find their way back at Christmas to find a little silliness.
This year we sat back to tell of some of our most bizarre Christmases overseas. Sri Lanka takes first place. The hotel tried their best to make an event and celebrate the holidays. They really didn't know what they were doing. The Santa was scary, the cocktails were "original", the food unusual and the magic show down right comical.
I hope your holiday was memorable!
