My life-long relationship with Christmas has gone through several phases. As a child, of course, my affection was based on waking up on Christmas morning and finding a pile of gifts under the tree. Our family was relatively poor compared to most of my friends, but seeing a small mountain of presents under a twinkling evergreen on December 25 somehow made everything OK for the rest of the year.
After I had my own kids, the meaning of Christmas changed once more. Now, not only could I wallow in my own soft-focused 8mm memories, but I could become the creator of new memories for my children. Suddenly, the act of unpacking and displaying 30-year-old holiday decorations became a cherished ritual. I became obsessed with creating traditions that my own kids would remember when they re-ran their mental home movies years from now.
Perhaps they would even become Christmas addicts like their mother. [Read more...]