One final Christmas post

We don’t stay in one place for long during the holidays. While it may make for a very hectic time, traveling from one family to the other, it is a blessing to have family close enough that we can see everyone. After a full morning we headed south to my Aunt and Uncle’s home on Eagle Lake. They purchased the home a little over 2 years ago and have been working on it steadily since. The home is beautiful and we spent an awesome 4th of July down there this past summer. The home has a beautiful and massive entry hall. The first time Dena told me about the house she mentioned how exciting it would be to have a table that we could all fit around, and how right she was. Dena and Bob have always opened their home up to me, well always, but quite memorably around the holidays. Growing up I couldn’t wait for my Christmas break so I could go and spend a week or two with my cousins in Raymond. I have mentioned before how smells trigger my memories, well, I suppose this is reciprocal because memories can also trick me into thinking I can smell things. Such is the case with Christmas trees. At the Culpepper’s the tree was always freshly cut from somewhere on their (nearby) property and was never a pine/spruce or typical Christmas tree lot variety, but was (my horticultural dimness is exposed here, I am afraid) just a tree. But when I think about Christmas trees, while they possess their own smell, I always think back to searching for Christmas trees in the woods around their home, or walking up the road to the radio tower looking for a tree and worried that we would get caught trespassing, with a pathetic excuse for a saw (some dulled rusted handsaw Catherine and I were sure could do the rick). One Christmas I thought: hey I’ll just climb that tree and saw the top off - epic fail. Catherine stood at the bottom of this tree, which I was able to climb into but unable to get out of, laughing for what seemed like an hour. I had only reached the lowest branch about 6 feet off the ground. I oscillated from being on the edge of tears to nearly falling from the tree because I was laughing so hard. To enhance the embarrassment, Chance and Hunter came walking along and began climbing circles around me. They were dumbfounded by my frozen state. I quite honestly was paralyzed, clutching our little hatchet and praying for the will to move enough to just get down. I don’t think I have climbed a tree since, but am certain that before that I was an avid tree climber. Each year, the search for a perfect tree was an adventure I would look forward to. I hope that Holt, Irene, Mary and Harper Ann can share such adventures together. They are well on their way. As for the smell, when I think about searching for Christmas trees, I can smell the potpourri of woods, damp leaves, lake water, and smoke from a chimney. It is one of the sweetest smells I know. The keynote to those Christmases was always dinner on Christmas night. Mammaw, Beth and Ken et al. Barbara would all come over, and my Mom and Grandmama would be there. On many of these nights I can remember Dena saying how one day she would have a dining room and table big enough for everyone (although at the time Catherine and I were glad to have a “kids” table where we could giggle without rebuke). Well this year her wish came true, as Bob, Stephen and I think John built a regal table. It sat 18 comfortably, and is what I imagine Dena always had in mind, and Catherine and I shared our giggling with everyone.

The meal was wonderful. Last year Dena made goose and it was delicious, but his year she made a German braised venison recipe that was even better. It is always fun for me to tell Jonathan what we are having and experience his skeptical expression. I have always looked forward to our meals, because Dena tries such different menus, and I think Jonathan is now learning to share my anticipation without anxiety. It was fun to watch Bob, John and Stephen in the kitchen giving each other pointers on cooking the deer meat. I walked by the kitchen and caught them all debating a culinary approach and had to swallow a lump in my throat. It hit me that Robert should be there taking part in the debate. Robert was in Afghanistan this year serving in the National Guard, and I am happy to report, is back in the United States safe and sound, but he was missed greatly this Christmas. I am sure we all found ourselves choking back tears this holiday season and wishing that he was there to enhance the memories

Cousins: I am so fortunate that, while I grew up an only child, I never really felt like an only child. I had cousins who filled a sibling void and as I have said before, Catherine is more of a sister to me. It was so nice to be able to share Christmas morning with them. Catherine and I (it is a curse that I cannot sleep late on Christmas morning) were usually the first awake and we would wait for the boys at the top of the stairs, before going down and rummaging through our stockings. There was one Christmas that my mom couldn’t make it down on Christmas eve because of a mild ice storm in North Mississippi, so Christmas morning was postponed 24 hours. The only problem was that no-one told Stephen. Poor Stephen waited and waited and then finally went downstairs to no presents or stockings and to thinking that Christmas wasn’t coming. Poor Stephen. I think it was quite late in the day that someone actually filled him in. I can also remember carrying boxes and bags with my little ponies, American Girl dolls, vintage gowns, clothes, books, and movies up to Catherine’s room and going from playing with the dolls and ponies one year to watching old Audrey Hepburn movies or Rogers and Hammerstein musicals the next (Oh how the boys curse the day we were introduced to musicals), or dressing our dolls up at ten to dressing ourselves up at fifteen. I hope that Holt and Irene (maybe minus the musicals) can for many years share their excitement over their gifts in a similar way. I hope that Mary and Harper Ann will grow close the way Holt and Irene have and that they will steal away with gifts in hand to play make believe games or watch movies like Catherine and I did. Apparently word spread this year, that costumes were the gift du jour because Holt and Irene took part in many costume changes throughout the night. They were a cowboy and cowgirl, super heroes, a football player, Cinderella, an oriental princess, and I’m sure something else that I forgot. Every time I turned around they were wearing something different. As for the other cousins, Harper Ann made it until the start of dinner and couldn’t hold her eyes open any more. Mary on the other hand was a trooper and couldn’t have been sweeter. Now that she is walking she seems so grown up. She is such a sweet girl.

A few notes on gifts, Holt has worn his superman cape to school a few times and to Wednesday night church once too. He has read Family Huddle, Jim Limber Davis, Elmer the Elephant, and Sylvester and the magic pebble enough he has them memorized. He wakes up on most Saturday mornings and wants to put on his football jersey and pants. We have put together puzzles until the edges of the pieces are starting to fray. But, by far, the gift that is used most is the Nerf gun set from Aunt Katy and Uncle Rob. We play guns almost daily and Harper Ann has taken more than a few bullets to the face - a casualty of war. Apparently the set came with a bomb too, and Holt tells me about all the different settings and how we have to hide it and find it because - Uncle John said so. I think John, Chance, Stephen, Jonathan, Hunter and Olivia started the practice on Christmas night. This is just a snapshot of how blessed we were this holiday season and an attempt to say thank you to all our family and friends for the gifts and for sharing Christmas with us, or more so letting us share with you. I know that Jonathan misses his grandfather at Christmas, and I found myself many times daydreaming about Mammaw’s laughter while we were sitting around Bob and Stephen’s table, but isn’t it nice to share Christmas with our families who can share memories of those we miss this time of year and be joyful in our flashbacks. I hope that Holt will retain, at least some - even if they are fuzzy- memories from Christmas this year.

Sweet Sweet Mary

Gandmama has worn that same outfit for 17 years now. She tells me it is her Christmas tradition.

How many times have I seen this snapshot in my life? Grandmama warming her feet by the fire reminiscing. I can only imaging which memories she is basking in from the past 80+ years that her memories were formed.

One last Christmas story, I promise. I told you in another post about how Jonathan and I set up the tent in our living room. Well, the Saturday that we got home after Christmas the tent was still up in the living room. Before we left, Jonathan told Holt that they could have a camp out when we got back. The kid is a sponge and doesn’t forget much, so as soon as we were in the driveway he was talking about how he and daddy were going to camp out. Jonathan was as man of his word, and that night, he and Holt made a pallet in the tent, filled it with pillows and he, Holt and Teddy read books and watched movies until they couldn’t keep their eyes open anymore. Harper Ann and I, on the other hand, slept safe and sound in our own beds. What good sleep and sweet dreams we all had that night, and what lovely memories we made this year. 2010 will have to be mighty special to top 2009.

They were really roughing it, huh?

I have written a lot about memories, but above all else, what I want Holt and Harper Ann to remember about Christmas is ...

Isaiah 7:14Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and shall call his name Immanuel.

Luke 1:35And the angel answered her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be called holy–the Son of God.

Matthew 1:23“Behold, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall call his name Immanuel” (which means, God with us).

Luke 2:9-12And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with fear. And the angel said to them, “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.”

Luke 2:13-14And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!” “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among those with whom he is pleased!”

Micah 5:2“But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,though you are small among the clans of Judah,out of you will come for me one who will be ruler over Israel,whose origins are from of old,from ancient times. ”

Isaiah 9:6-7For to us a child is born, to us a son is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Of the increase of his government and of peace there will be no end, on the throne of David and over his kingdom, to establish it and to uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forth and forevermore. The zeal of the LORD of hosts will do this.

Oh the toys, toys, toys, toys

Our Christmas Eve and Christmas Morning were, to borrow an apt word from the goose in Charlotte’s web, terrific (ever since I watched/read the E. B. White classic as a child I associate this word with that silly goose). On Christmas Eve, we all loaded up and attended the Christmas eve service at Jonathan’s parent’s church. They started this last year and I am so glad they did. I love Christmas vigils. It was cold this Christmas, which is not always a given in Mississippi (this always seemed like a great injustice as a child), and was so nice to leave the cold air for a sanctuary warm with love and heat. Afterward, we watched the Christmas Eve fireworks the town of Sumner has each year. This is such a lovely tradition; I hope they continue to do this for a long time. I love fireworks, especially the ones that explode and then trickle sparkles or are followed by sprinkles of lots of little explosions - more bang for your buck I suppose.

Cindy always has a party at her home following the fireworks. We look forward to this every year too; the food is always so good, her home is always so beautiful and festive, and there is palpable joy in every room of the house. I know how much Jonathan loves this little get together too, because in the days leading up to it I hear about a hundred times, how Cindy is making her Swedish tea ring and how much he loves it. One year, Cindy gave us a generous helping to take home...it didn’t make it home. I had so much fun watching, from a distance, Holt relocate Cindy’s collection of Nutcrackers from the buffet and arrange them in military formations on the floor. Harper Ann was a trooper, staying up late without making a peep, and going right to sleep the second her head hit the carseat. Holt stayed awake talking about Christmas on the way home that night, but when we got home he and Teddy went straight to bed and slept all night. (This was not the case last year. Holt was so wound up from talk of Santa Claus and reindeer and presents that he wouldn’t go to sleep. We finally gave up at midnight and put him in our bed, so that we could get the presents assembled and under the tree. It took 4 months to get him back to a healthy sleep routine.) Harper Ann didn’t make a sound when we moved her into her crib.

Jonathan got Holt a tent for Christmas this year and he and I set out putting it together. In other words, Jonathan started pulling pieces out and putting things together while I sat down and read the instructions. We then disassembled Jonathan’s hard work and followed directions. The whole time Jonathan is saying, “that’s not right...that doesn’t look like the picture...are you sure?...I don’t think you know what you are doing.” Until finally it is up and I get a “huh, you aren’t nearly as useless as I thought you were.” I should have been a girl-scout. We had stockings stuffed, presents put together and under the tree, and were in bed by eleven. Not to shabby, and I slept like a baby. Holt was certainly excited about all his stuff and Harper Ann’s too. It was so much fun watching him “show” her how all her toys worked. I am so glad they have one another.

We enjoyed the early morning hours of toys and “camping” and then gussied up and headed to Grandmom and DD’s for Christmas lunch and of course more presents. This is where Holt got, only the coolest present ever. I have mentioned before Holt’s favorite song, “Snoopy vs the Red Baron.” Every old WWI era plain is the red baron to Holt. Well, Jonathan’s parents have a friend, Sharon Bishop, who bought a “real” Red Baron Airplane in hopes that she would have a grandson. As providence would have it, she has been blessed with a troop of granddaughters, and we are the benefactors of this chromosomal outcome. She offered the plane to Pam and Paul, and you should have seen the look on Holt’s face when they brought it in the house. I think he is going to put a lot of miles on that odometer.

Harper Ann enjoyed the morning too, and aside from a cat nap on the drive from Cleveland to Sumner she stayed awake the whole time. Of course, she and Holt slept the whole way down to Mamee and Papa’s lakehouse. At Christmas, Harper Ann was just starting to sit up on her own, without any extra support. We still surrounded her with pillows, as she would topple, usually in slow motion, every now and then. She has since mastered the skill, and I don’t think it will be long before she is trying to crawl.

What a cutie pie. She really didn't need the pillows, but I did.

The above picture was taken with my Christmas present, an iPhone. A Christmas present that I spoiled. I have been in need of a new phone for some time, as the back of my old one wouldn’t stay on and the battery would come loose without my knowing it, and I had been telling Jonathan that I was thinking about getting an iPhone (Necee, the other Clerk in the Magistrate’s chamber had just gotten one and loved it). Jonathan knows me well enough to know that I will talk myself out of spending money whenever I am given a grace period to think over purchases (I’m cheap...er...frugal). Well, on the 23rd, my last day of work before Christmas, as I am on my way home, I realize that my phone isn’t working and no matter what I do I can’t get it to make a call. I called Jonathan from another phone to tell him that my phone was acting crazy and I was headed to Cingular to get them to fix it. He immediately starts hemming and hawing and telling me he will just take care of it when he gets home. Well, to make a long story short, I forced him into handing over the phone, which he had already had switched over, wrapped in a plastic grocery sack, because I couldn’t just “let it go.” I know I ruined the surprise, but I love my phone and it was still a surprise, just a few days early.

Trying on Holt's coonskin hat.

"The" Present

She loves Lovie/Wiffie (sorry Cindy...The best laid plans right?)

We got a little ahead of ourselves and started opening presents that were not ours...see exhibit 1 on the coffee table

Presents: Jonathan and I have the same, let’s call it difference of opinion, every Christmas/ Birthday/ Occasion where gifts may be involved. I want to limit the gifts we give to our kids. I figure between my family, his family and us (not to mention friends at b-day time) they will get plenty. Holt has more “stuff” than he knows what to do with and Harper Ann is, and will be for awhile, oblivious. Jonathan understands, but he loves those kids so stinkin much that he can’t help but try to give them the world (I love them too, I just have more self control). I say all this to tell you a very sweet story. We had gotten the kids presents and I was under the impression we were done. Then the Saturday before Christmas, Jonathan tells me he is running downtown. When I asked him what for, he told me he had one more thing to get for Harper Ann. I pressed him on the topic, preparing for our almost scripted debate, when he throws me a curve-ball. He tells me he wants to get Harper Ann a locket, like the one he got me on the Christmas we were in college together (we had been dating a year), and that he knows it won’t mean anything to her now, but when she grows up she will enjoy knowing it was her first Christmas present. The locket has her initials on the front and a sweet inscription on the back from Daddy. It is waiting for her on her bookshelf in her room. Above, is a picture of her playing with the box and bow in which it came.

Making Mice and Decking the Halls

I have wonderful Christmas memories (don’t we all), which, much like my summertime memories involve some time spent at my grandparents home in Cleveland. One of my grandmother's many talents is cooking. I have met people who knew her many years ago and one of the things they seem to remember is just that, and I always appreciate hearing people say so. I wish that I had spent more time, when she was cooking often, paying attention to how she made some of her signature recipes (even with the written recipes, there are certain tricks and tweaks that cannot be described in a recipe - only practice can duplicate these). All the same, one of my most cherished possessions is a cookbook my mom compiled of Gibson family recipes, most of which are Grandmama's, and most of those are candy recipes that she made in mounds at Christmastime. I, along with my cousins, spent many hours as children - ok, so as young adults (adults) - perched on my grandmother’s counter-top, eagerly awaiting a beater, spoon or spatula covered in gooey goodness. These include toffee (surprisingly easy), divinity (scared to attempt), millionaires (yum), Hebrew cookies (light and crunchy bits of Heaven), oatmeal cookies (great for the kitchen novice), sugar cookies (not hard, but labor intensive), and chocolate cherry mice (see below). I have excitedly awaited the day that Holt would be old enough to help make Christmas treats, and this year I took full advantage of his interest and growing attention span.

So many flashbacks are sparked by my olfactory sense and there isn’t a holiday, with smells as distinctly tied to it, as Christmas. The smell of cinnamon always hung in the air of our home during the Advent season. It wasn’t a heavy smell, but light and joyful (of course a smell can be joyful). My mother would keep sticks of the happy spice simmering on the stove the whole month of December. My hope is that I can share events and traditions with my kids that they can look back on with as much fondness as I do, even simple ones like a pan of cinnamon sticks on the stove.

And now, a few of our adventures from the Christmas season 2009:

The Mice: I loved these lovely little treats as a child, and couldn’t wait until it was time to make the mice. I thought this would be a great thing for Holt to help with, and help he did. I told Holt we were going to make chocolate mice. I failed to realize that this might get lost in translation from grown-up speak to kid-speak. He kept asking where the mice were and I realized he thought we were actually covering mice in chocolate...to eat. In retrospect, I wonder if I should be concerned that the thought of this didn’t seem to disturb, only confuse him. Once I explained it to him in clearer terms, we were ready (although with slightly less enthusiasm-hmm). These were not as easy as the cookies, but there were great ways for Holt to get involved. We started by draining the cherries on a paper towel. I always loved maraschino cherries and gave some of the ones with broken stems to Holt. He took one bite, grimaced and then ran over to the garbage to spit the nasty bugger out. Thinking that one was just spoiled he tried another, and another, each time repeating the grimace to garbage can cycle. Holt does not like cherries. I think he got a little irked by my giggles. Once we had the cherries covered and the chocolate ready for dipping, I gave Holt the job of unwrapping the heads (again, let down to find I meant hershey’s kisses).

Now, at this point, I must point out that one of the tricks to making chocolate mice is making sure you get the kiss attached while the chocolate is still soft and melted. Affixing the appendage too late will result in lots of headless mice later. So, I give Holt a bowl and the bag of kisses and set him loose removing foil, while I get the cherries out of the fridge and begin dunking them in chocolate and placing them on wax paper. I take my time, making sure they are fully covered. After getting about 10 mice bodies fully prepped I figure I better start giving them little mice noggins. At this point, It has been roughly 5 minutes since I put Holt to his task - and peripherally he has been hard at work and the wrappers are really piling up on the table.However, when I lean over the bowl of unwrapped chocolate, there are four lonely looking morsels looking back at me. FOUR! I must admit, my first concern was for the headless rodents lying on my counter. “Holt, what have you been doing?”I ask as I hurriedly take the quartet of mice heads out of the bowl and stick them to their little milk-chocolate bodies. It is only as I begin feverishly unwrapping more kisses, adding the wrappers to the large pile of trash on the table, that it occurs to me that Holt has in fact eaten, by conservative estimates, 12-15 pieces of chocolate, in a span of five minutes (please note, I had already allowed a generous helping of kisses while we were wrapping the cherries in the sugar filling).I put Holt to work attaching the ears while I placed the remaining drops out of his reach. He had already relegated his attention to the sprinkles on the counter and wanted to add some to the mice (sprinkles make everything better). We went on to make chocolate covered pretzel bows and rods (Holt’s job was sprinkling colored sugar on them - in Holtspeak sprinkle = pour), sugar cookies, toffee and oatmeal cookies. Later in the week we filled Christmas tins and all of us drove around looking at lights and delivering tins to friends.

2 jars (about 60) maraschino cherries with stems
3 tablespoons butter, softened
3 tablespoons corn syrup

1/2 tsp Almond extract

2 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
2 cups semisweet chocolate chips
2 tablespoons shortening

2 bags of Hershey's kisses

1 bag of sliced almonds

1. Drain cherries and set on paper towels to dry.
   
2. In a medium bowl, combine butter and corn syrup until smooth. Stir in confectioners' sugar and knead to form a dough. Chill to stiffen if necessary. Wrap each cherry in about 1 teaspoon of dough. Chill until firm.
   
3. Melt Chocoalate Chips and Shortening over a double broiler, when melted dip cherries, holding the stems and place on wax paper
   
4. While still soft, attach unwrapped hershey's kiss to the Cherry by pushing against melted chocolate
   
5. slide almond slices between kiss and cherry.

One more note about the Mice. As I said, Holt does not like cherries, but a few days after we made the mice, Holt was in the kitchen and there were several of the little fellows lying gutted and decapitated on the kitchen table.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I wanted one without a cherry.”
“They all have cherries. You made them...with cherries. See the tail...cherry stem...all cherries Holt.”
“Well, I thought maybe I might like them again.”
“You never liked them so there is no again (pause - irrelevant, irrelevant, focus) You couldn’t figure that out after the first one?”
“I thought there might be one that didn’t have a cherry”
“Here, have a kiss” I say handing him the bag previously out of reach.

Holt Loved his Babar Advent calendar you can see on the wall over to the left.

Dead Animals (don’t worry the Nemo’s are still alive and well): Right before Christmas, Jonathan brought a deer and two duck home to live. The deer was being evicted from Jonathan’s parents’ home and the ducks had been taking up residency at Shane and Anjanette’s. We hung them in our living room and Holt named them. The deer is Fred, but the duck’s names escape me now. Anyway, we had fun this Christmas decorating our mounted friends. I was even able to find tiny hats and scarves for the pair of birds.



The Tree: Our tree this year was big, but pales in comparison to last year. We have 11 foot ceilings, and I wanted to take advantage of them, so last year, Jonathan dropped me and Holt off at the Greenskeeper, where we get our tree each year, and went to get his truck. Holt and I picked out a 9-10 foot tree, at the taller end of the spectrum and had them trim some off the bottom and have it ready for Jonathan to load up. Now, at this time I was pregnant and wasn’t of much help with anything, and Holt was still in the twos. So, when Jonathan showed up and saw the monster of a tree we had waiting, he was none to pleased. In fact, not so nice words were used. When I teared up Jonathan said they were directed at the tree not me, but this was not the case, and I quote, “Jesus, Sayward! Of all the stupid things you have done, this tops the list.” We got the beastly thing in the house, had to borrow a ladder to get the lights on, and decorated what turned out to be the most beautiful tree of all time. Just a funny anecdote I didn’t get to share on here last year, as we are just now approaching our 1 year blogging anniversary.

Food!

Decking the Halls: I am not very good at home decor. I can look at a home and recognize that it is beautifully adorned, but as far as execution, I don’t do decoration; I’m simple ( I also don’t accessorize well - and think there is a commonality between the two practices). However, I love decorating at Christmas, because it is less about having things in just the right places, but more about unwrapping each ornament, stocking, bowl, wreath, and the memories associated with each item. It takes forever to get our tree decorated because I have to stop after unwrapping each ornament and think back to where it came from. I can remember as a child decorating our tree and the excitement my mother and I would share over who would find the Christmas “monkey” first (one year, I took a closer look and I think that it is in fact a bear, but my mom considers this blasphemous - so monkey it is). And now a story: The first Christmas Jonathan and I were married, I was just finishing my first semester of law school. Law school is quite different, in that there are no tests, papers, quizzes or participation points used to determine your grade. I suppose this is to prepare you for the Bar exam (pause to tremble). Your grades in each class are based solely on how well you do on your one and only exam at the end of the semester. This is cruel on so many levels, but especially at the end of that first semester, when you are naive and impressionable, and can still remember the joys of undergrad. “They” spend all semester scaring the crap out of first years with stories and statistics of students dropping out after that first semester and how they are weeding out those too dumb to handle the JD program - and you spend all semester thinking, wow, I have nothing to do and months to prepare for exams, and then bam Thanksgiving is upon you and exams are weeks away and, regardless of how much you may have studied, the anxiety sets in and self-doubt/loathing (for the hours you wasted enjoying life - in whatever form or fashion) sets in. So, I, being the nerd that I am, fell into this misery right along with the rest of my class. I spent Thanksgiving day with my family, but drove home that night to start going over note-cards and outlines. That whole weekend I was in the law library with its gross carpet and electric/yellow lighting, along with the other miserable people. We would share glances conveying the message “I feel your pain” all the time sizing them up and half-heartedly hoping that they might catch a cold to give you a slight edge (Just as law school can turn Pollianna into Eeyore, the bell-curve can turn the closest friends into rivals). By the time Jonathan got back from hunting in Arkansas on Sunday night I had reached a breaking point. We are going to get a tree I told him. We went down the street, where they were selling trees in the Sears parking lot and picked out a modest little shrub and carried it home. We were on a very tight budget and so we gave ourselves a hundred dollars out of our present money to get decorations and went to Wal-Mart. With that money we bought a plain wreath and a pack of small gold bells tied to small velvet bows, some plain glass balls, some garland, a pair of velvet bows, 6 strands of colored lights, tinsel, wrapping paper and our splurge item was a set of blue glass balls adorned with silver glitter (Jonathan picked them out). Checking out, we were both feeling, Jonathan audibly, me in my head, about spending “that much” money on Christmas decorations. Each night that week I would come home from the library at dinner, decorate for an hour and drive back to the library until midnight. We put the tree in our “dining nook,” and strung garland and lights on our wrought iron posts on the front porch. The wreath I decorated with the bells and bows and hung from our front door. Jonathan would turn the lights on for me when he got home from work and I would unplug them when I came in from studying. After exams were over and done with, Jonathan and I watched Christmas movies and used the wrapping paper to make paper chains to hang over our windows. 2 years ago one of our the blue glass balls fell shattered and I cried and last year I noticed the bells on our homemade wreath were beginning to rust and this year I noticed some worn spots on our velvet bows. Five years has gone fast, too fast, but what wonderful years they have been. So, if in 20 years you come to our home and wonder why we have a crippled looking wreath with rusty bells hanging from our front door you will know why. Those decorations will never qualify for a spread in Southern Living or Delta Magazine, but they warm my heart and unlock priceless memories from their vault in my head.

I am also a firm believer that you can’t start a new year with an old tree, so between Christmas and New Year it all comes down (excepting the 2 wreaths still perched on the bench on our front porch - oops). This was always a very sad thing growing up, but this year our Christmas was so wonderful that it didn’t seem so bad. One more flashback for y’all. After our first Christmas, Jonathan and I were undecorating and ...

“Wait! What are you doing?” I ask, as Jonathan starts to put some tinsel that had fallen onto the ground into the garbage can.
“What?”
“You can’t throw that away. Hold on, I’ll get a bag.”
“Why are you getting a bag?”
“We always save our tinsel.” I say, returning with two ziploc bags.
“We who?”
“Me and my mom”
“That is just silly. Who saves tinsel?”
“Well, my mom for starters, and now us. Besides, it just makes sense.”
“Of all the dumb things you’ve said, Sayward, that is up there.”
“No really, it doesn’t take much to pull it off and stick it in a bag, and if you leave it on the tree it will get all strung out in the yard, and we are not litter bugs.”
“This is silly.”
“Just start de-tinselling.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
“I still think this is silly.”
“Maybe”

We have used the same tinsel for five years now. We may have to supplement on down the road, but each year we both share some smiles as we sprinkle the tree with the silvery plastic and when we pack it back into those two ziploc bags. And, each year I can count on Jonathan saying, “You know when you first told me we were saving our tinsel I sure thought it was a dumb idea, but it sure is nice to know that this is the same stuff we started out with...it’s nice.” Yes it is. Jonathan and I are still balancing one another out, him pulling my head out of the clouds, me bringing his jolly out. After Holt was in bed last year, we would stay up late warming in the glow of our behemoth of a tree. Every once in awhile Jonathan and I would exchange complements on our tree and snuggle a little closer. It's nice.

The Impostor

Holt, as a baby, had a collection of stuffed elephants, we are Alabama fans of course. He never used a pacifier; great, no breaking that habit, but, he developed the nasty habit of sucking on the trunk of any one of his pachyderm herd. The time came to hide the elephants and break this practice; insert Teddy, the most adorable cuddly teddy bear we could find. My mom picked him up for Holt and he made the change with surprisingly little drama. Teddy was and is Holt’s pal, buddy, comrade. For 2 and ½ years now Teddy has been Holt’s Hobbes. There have been many nights when Teddy has been blamed for Holt’s failure to “just go to sleep.” It is also a common occurrence, that Jonathan and I are summoned to Holt’s room because we forgot to give Teddy his goodnight hug or kiss. Recognizing the bond forming, I asked my mom if she could find another identical teddy bear, just in case, God forbid, something were to happen to Teddy.

Flash forward to this Monday, early, early morning. “Mama! Mama!” I stumble from the bed, not sure of where I am, in a stupor, but responding instinctively to my baby’s cries. I get to his bedroom and he can’t find Teddy. Through his tears and my daze we make a cursory search for the friend, lost in a sea of sheets and pillows. As we (I) are (am) wading through the sheets, I have a flash of genius, remembering the matching teddy in our closet. I tell Holt that I think I remember Teddy sneaking into our room last night and that I would go get him. I run to the closet, pull the new teddy out, remove the tag that is still affixed to his paw and quickly return to Holt’s room. Meanwhile, in my head I am: A. congratulating myself for such a novel idea, and B. trying to calculate how much sleep I can still get before my alarm sounds.

I enter, thinking myself quite the hero, preparing for the hugs of thanks for reuniting these old chums, and I offer teddy to Holt. Holt grabs the teddy bear and hugs him as tight as you can hug a 12 inch stuffed bear, and then recoils. The look of disgust on Holt’s face was on one hand heartbreaking and on the other quite funny. I wasn’t prepared for such a turn of events; immediately aware that my plan was backfiring. He knew. It was clear I needed an alibi for my involvement. “Mama. I don’t know whose teddy this is, but it is not my Teddy!” I had to think on my feet, I couldn’t try to convince him, he is too smart for that, so I feign ignorance and outrage. “Oh my goodness! You’re right it’s a fake teddy. I’ll get rid of this impostor you keep looking for the real Teddy.” I had to move quickly, lest he suspect my involvement in the switch and the cover-up. I returned the counterfeit teddy to the closet post haste. After stripping back all the sheets and comforter we found Teddy nestled in at the foot of Holt’s bed. Holt immediately starts telling Teddy how much he missed him and that another teddy tried to trick him. I nod in agreement, making sure to add how shocked, shocked! I am that there was a teddy bear in our house trying to pull a fast one on us all. I try to convey with sympathetic looks that, I too, feel the pain of deception. The search, the ruse, and the cover up had sapped what was left of my early morning sleep. By the time order was restored the sun was beginning to add its morning light to the bedroom. “Come on Holt, you and Teddy go get in bed with Daddy, while I get a shower.” The three of us make our way to the bedroom and I tuck the two pees into the big pod with Jonathan, who is completely oblivious to the morning con and cover-up. What a beautiful, joyful, and amusing way to start a week!

Holt's 1st Deer Hunt

Holt when hunting with Grandad "DD" this year and from the looks of it they had a really good time. No deer, but they had fun nonetheless.