Christmas

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My favorite Christmas song is Do You Hear What I Hear, but my favorite is line is “a child, a child, sleeping in the night”. Not sure why it gets me, but it’s my favorite part of the song and one of the only reasons it’s my favorite. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=FhTnDaEmA5k

As for movies, I like new movies or the classics. The classics are kind of overplayed though. I think my favorite would be any or all of the Grinch movies. I hate the Christmas movies that are too magical... I don’t know how to categorize them with words. Also, I’m not a huge Santa in movies person. Santa is bland character in almost all of the Christmas movies and when he isn’t bland, he’s just too strange to like. Ooooh my favorite Christmas movie is It’s A Wonderful Life!

Christmas:

You wake up to silence. It’s 5am, and you stayed up watching movies in the dark until 2am, but you don’t want to have to be woken up later to the insistent shrieks of your siblings. But your bed is so damn warm. How will you ever leave it? You push the covers back, and promptly cover yourself again. Aaaaahhhh! It’s so cold penguins couldn’t survive out there. You plan to stay in your cocoon of love and warmth until you starve to death. Or will you starve to death? You could bribe your siblings to bring you the things you need. Oh scratch that. Your siblings don’t care enough about you to do anything for you. You push your covers aside once more and force your freezing legs over the side. Boy, do you need socks on. Quick! Before your feet are too cold to get warm again!

You’ve got socks on now, but your feet are cold anyway. The hallway squeaks, and you groan internally hoping you haven’t woke anyone. You can’t wait for your headache to begin. The thermostat is just around the corner... you hope to make it there before you look like Anna from the movie Frozen, not that you’d be that pretty anyway.

Your hair is sticking in a hundred different directions from the previous night’s sleep, and your fingers do nothing as they comb through it. Your breath stinks, and your stomach grumbles, but you still don’t feel like doing anything.

Your parents have forgotten to eat “Santa’s” cookies, so you finish them off, and head to the bathroom. Some of the cookie is stuck in your braces, so you figure you might as well brush your teeth now.

You‘re soon ready for the day despite your exhausted body’s insistence to do nothing. The couch is where you currently reside, and you just sit daydreaming while staring at the Christmas tree. Your mother has the tree set to the blinking flashing lights, but they’re only fuzzy flashes in your vision while you’re half asleep and drifting off again.

So much for not being woken up by your shrieking siblings. You check your watch and it’s 6am. Your siblings shake your skull with their loud voices, and you have no chance of sleeping again. Through your sleepless, fuzzy eyes, you see them pointing at the plate saying, “Santa ate the cookies, but the reindeer didn’t want the carrots.” You suggest to give them cake next year. You hear they only like carrots in the form of carrot cake. They nod and take you for your word.

They probably weren’t listening anyway. They’re attention is on the stockings in the chairs. Each is labeled with a name. I’m sitting between two on the couch, neither of which are mine, and I’m acussed of stealing because something has fallen from a stocking and touches my sleeve. I’m too tired to argue, so I just put it back, and the problem is fixed. If only everything was that easy.

I scan the room and find the chair that holds the 10+ year old stocking I’ve used each year. A red stocking with a patchily glued feather boa around the edges and a felt cat in the center stares at me from acrossed the room, yet my feet just don’t wanna move, so I stare at it some more from where I sit.

My siblings have left now most likely to wake my parents. I promise myself that when they come in I will move. They don’t need to know I was up till 2am even though I’m usually up till 3 or 4am.

My brother, the youngest parades back into the living roo, and my sisters, both younger than myself come dancing in, leading my parents wiping the sleep from their eyes. The cats follows, tangoing through the legs, tail flicking. The older two of your kid sisters sit next to the tree, so close they could bit the needles if she had the urge to. She had designated herself the head of present passing, but you’re okay with that since you’re having troubles abstaining from

grouching at all the noise. You remind yourself of the grinch and giggle. Your other sister asks, “What?” And you snap back, “nothing”. You get away with it though because it’s Christmas, but you make a mental note to try to be nicer, because your mother gives you a look that tells you all you need to know.

After opening a few presents, your family gets ready for Church. Christ the king was born today some 2000 years ago, so we have to go to church to be present on his birthday. It must be his birthday party or something. You pray to God you wont fall asleep in church, and by his grace and mercy, you only take extra blinks all through church.

Your brother gets away with sleeping in your dad’s arms though because you went to the early mass and your brother is a “growing little boy who needs his sleep”. But you grumble to yourself that “you’re a growing girl who needs her sleep”, yet decide not to say that out loud.

Back home, you finish opening presents, and everyone splits from the living room to try the things they got or just to relax. You go back to your bedroom and take a nap, waking not 1, or 2 hour later, but 4 hours later. “It’s lunch time” you mom says and asks when you woke up.

Lunch is a turkey which you know will be your leftovers for at least a week and a half. The turkey pot pies, bbq turkey sandwiches, and turkey tortilla soup swim through your visions of the week‘s meals to come. The sides for lunch include cranberry salad, fresh rolls, greenbean casserole, stovetop stuffing, turkey organ stuffing(with raisin as if they would make it any better), mashed potatoes, and gravy.

The heavy dishes get passed around, and bits and pieces make it onto the table. You know that you’ll end up collecting them for your pet rats, and they’ll reward you with little rat kisses and a few short boggles of from their eyes.

After lunch you’re much more rested and you look through the clothes and few other gifts you got and clean up the wrapping paper from the floor because it’s already bothering you.

The Christmas tree will stay up for another half of a month to a month before your parents have the time and energy to remove it from the livingroom and toss it out behind our hosue in the tree line. In the summer, five months later yet, you’ll drag the browned tree to the burn pile and ignite it. You run as it only takes a few short seconds to catch fire and form a blazing 15 foot cone of fire in the air.

Your cat sits under the tree and you think about how you’re always reminded not to put tinsel on the bottom foot of the tree or else your cat will eat it. Well, you can’t trim the needles off of the bottom foot of the tree without it looking odd, so she sits there eating the needles instead. You know she’ll puke then up somewhere later and you’ll be given the job of cleaning it up.

Later that evening, your family will play some board games and card games, and you’ll win a few times. By the time it’s nearing 8:30, you’re ready to sleep for days on end, so you brush your teeth and lay in your bed only to find out that clearly you weren’t tired enough to fall asleep. You blame it on being too tired and vouch to never stay up that late ever again, but you know you’ll probably do it again the very next night.

You finally fall asleep and dream of alpaca legs and farmhouse hotels and Christmas lights strung up in the desert. And that is how your Christmas ends.