Christmas Magic Memories

There we are, two quintessential little girls of the Sixties. Drooping knee socks, scuffed Mary Janes, hair curled just for the occasion, sitting on Santa's lap. Oh, my. My  younger sister and I are maybe six and eight in this picture and we look pretty pleased with ourselves.  That was a big day, let me tell you. I have blurred memories of going to downtown Vancouver from our suburban home and standing in line at the Woodward's department store.  I think it may have involved a pancake breakfast, I'm not sure. A very big event for our family.  I remember the anticipation I felt in that line up, sucking on a candy cane to help the time go by. It was nerve wracking. Think of it...Santa! The jolly man himself.  I still believed in Santa at that time, I'm sure, so he was the real deal to me.   Some kids in line were crying, refusing to go near Santa. I think someone threw up. I was nervous but old enough to be over the fear of the red-suited gent. The expressions on the face of my sister and myself are ones of posed smiles without a shadow of panic. We were there to fulfill a purpose, getting our requests for Christmas presents across to Santa. It's all pretty bizarre when you think of it but when as a child you still believe it is so wonderful.  I think that's what makes us lie to our own children about the existence of Santa. We know there will be a hard fall when the truth comes out but we hate to deny them the wonder of that Christmas magic we remember.

Max and a buddy,
five years old.

I speak for myself here as I know not everyone shared the same Christmas magic that I did. Growing up, our family didn't have a lot of money for gifts but I have only good memories of Christmas, and I worked hard to pass along that experience to my own kids. We spoilt our children at Christmas because we could. Huge trees, lots of decorations, fat Christmas stockings and gifts. We had a big family meal on Christmas Day, with aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents in attendance, often hosted at our home. The whole thing was a great deal of work but I loved the result. The magic of Christmas came back to me through the kids. I have a few pictures of my children on Santa's lap but I think that our youngest was never too happy about it so it wasn't forced. That event was probably my least favourite to orchestrate, the visit to Santa, so I was happy to drop it. I'd much rather be icing gingerbread men at home with my boys than waiting in line for an overpriced picture.

Now I am in between generations with Christmas. My children are grown but haven't any kids of their own. No little ones to lie to and spoil with presents, and there may not be. That's not my call.  I've scaled back the decorating and baking, doing just enough to make me feel it's Christmas. The tree is smaller, the stockings are gone, the gifts less. One year I gave up on gifts all together and just gave money to the kids, and told my husband not to buy anything for me but somehow that wasn't right, I had scaled it back too far. I'm trying to find the balance now in the new style of adult only Christmas that we celebrate. It certainly has its upside. No more shopping at Toy R Us (HUGE upside!), no late night gift wrapping sessions after everyone is in bed and I am exhausted. No more worrying if there are enough presents or the right presents or an equal amount between the kids.  No trying to put together complicated toy items while searching for the right batteries.  No dealing with at least one child who came down with a horrible cold or flu right before Christmas.

The motley Christmas crew, 1994

My sons, one of whom comes with a lovely girlfriend, and my nieces and nephews have grown into smart, funny and entertaining adults. I miss having Christmas with the parts of my family that I've lost through divorce and death but these young adults make up for it.  The families of my siblings are  growing through the addition of new partners, spouses and babies, and so my siblings and I can no longer all get together for one Christmas meal. Logistics won't allow.  This year as I decorate my tree and bake my gingerbread people I will think of them all. And I think also of the little girl I was in the red coat on Santa's knee, the bored teenager I became trying to get drunk at Christmas, the young wife trying hard to impress, the mother of two overdoing the whole business and the person I am this year at Christmas. I am so very grateful for the wonderful memories of Christmas that I have, the ones I have helped make and the ones yet to come, whatever they may be.