The worst part about Christmas is that I often forget how much I hate it. You see, I think that deep, deep down I really am a glass is half-full kind of person. I spend the first three weeks of December watching Christmas movies and imagining my life as very similar to these fictional characters. Top Christmas movies include: Love Actually, The Family Stone, The Holiday, Four Christmases and of course – Christmas Vacation (classic). I drink heaps of Chai Tea in the red Starbucks Christmas cups (can’t get enough of those cups), and by the time I arrive at my parents’ house with a car full of presents, I am feeling warm and fuzzy and ready for my fill of quality family time. Sure there are bound to be difficult and stressful moments, but we’ll just laugh our way through them – like in the movies. This thought, I now know, marks the early stages of insanity.
There was the year we ran out of ketchup, resulting in my father having a massive meltdown at the prospect of no ketchup with his Christmas meat pie (breakfast special at the Robinsons!). This involved a long and detailed interrogation of my mother as to exactly how such a thing had occurred. Did she not realize they were running low on ketchup? Was the ketchup not on sale that week? Was she trying to covertly punish my father by failing to purchase his favorite condiment? By lunchtime they were not talking and my mom’s response to everything was, “Well, whatever you do, don’t mention ketchup.”
My sister’s first year away from home was a nightmare! Not only was I left to deal with the crazies on my own, but by Christmas Eve, my mom’s parcel had still not arrived at my sisters. Mom spent the entire day at the kitchen table crying her face off about how my poor sister would not have any presents on Christmas Day and she’d be all alone. First of all, she was not alone. She was with her new boyfriend (now husband). Second, I had spoken with my sister numerous times during the day and confirmed she was not at all concerned about the missing parcel. Alas, there was no consoling my poor mother, whose despair reached new heights when she remembered that my sister’s stocking was in the parcel. Fortunately, the boyfriend was working at Greyhound that year and located the illusive parcel. My mom was overjoyed and declared my sister’s new beau (whom she had not yet met) a saint. This quickly became known as the year Tim saved Christmas.
My sister has recently married this lovely man. And as all couples do, you want your loved one to make a good impression on your parents and vice versa. In my sister’s case, it was the vice versa she really needed to be concerned about. The first year she brought him home for Christmas was very exciting. Everytime I spoke to my mom on the phone, she was literally vibrating with enthusiasm. She had filled two full-sized freezers with Christmas baking and was anxiously awaiting our arrival. This was going to be great! There had been tons of snow, and the trees were heavy with white. I was feeling festive in the extreme – Christmas sweater and everything! As we pulled up to the house, everything looked beautiful. Christmas lights were up and . . . what the . . . is that a . . . he didn’t . . . did he? Oh, my God. Although not visible from the road, once you pulled up the driveway and in front of my parent’s house, there was a larger skidder with an upside down gutted cow hanging from it. To make matters worse, the carcass was dripping blood onto the beautiful white snow, which was being eagerly lapped up by the dog. Oh my God. Who does this?
My mother, as expected, was eagerly awaiting our arrival on the front steps. The look of shock and awe on my face must have been quite extreme, because before saying anything, she loudly declared, “It’s your father. I told him not to shoot that damn cow!” Honestly. Who are these people?
That Christmas quickly dissolved, as both mine and my sister’s husbands were expected to butcher the cow during the holidays. To make matters worse, the butchering was to take place in the open air carport on a slab of plywood laid across my mom’s two freezers – which were full of the aforementioned Christmas baking. Filling up the Christmas goodie tray then became a major production – requiring my father to stop the incessant butchering and move the carcass to allow for access to the plethora of buttertarts and mini quiche that lay beneath. Rock paper scissors was the only fair way of deciding who would fill up the tray next.
There have also been a number of incidents that are just plain bizarre. For example, there was the year my dad went to bed at 8:00 p.m. and when he awoke three hours later to find us all still visiting in the living room, decided to make everyone Monte Cristo sandwiches (in just his bath robe). I gained 5 pounds that Christmas. And although sleeping in is a “must have” on the Christmas holiday wish list, this is made impossible by my father who rises at 6:00 a.m. and begins making a HUGE breakfast for everyone, while listening to CNN on the highest possible volume. The bathroom situation is also made difficult by staying at a home with two bathrooms and upwards of 10 people (who have all consumed Monte Cristo sandwiches at 11:00 at night). When times are desperate, we have been known to drive at extreme speeds to my in-laws house, with the hopes of finding an available bathroom.
Now, I know that Christmas is about giving; not receiving. However, some of the gifts I have received over the years (from IMMEDIATE family members), have caused me to scratch my head and question my genetic link to these people. I have received used gifts (admittedly purchased at garage sales), gifts that were purchased with HBC points (and, therefore, came with a note advising that they were not returnable), school supplies (a scientific calculator - when I was in Grade 7!!), and gifts that were purchased some 10 years prior (and the warranty had, therefore, expired 8 years prior). But the all time winner of the “I don’t know a single thing about you gift” goes to my brother, who gave me a $7.99 Teen Pack when I was 23 years old. I know it was $7.99 because he left the price tag on. The pack contained shampoo, conditioner, deodorant, shave gel, a razor, and a pack of gum.
And so, I am facing yet another year of Christmas with the crazies. Wish me luck people. Christmas with family is not for the faint of heart.
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