The smell of cinnamon rolls and coffee swirls past my nose and draws me out of sleep, I snuggle out of bed wearing new Christmas pajamas I opened the night before as we watched for Santa’s Sleigh. Careful not to peak I walk past the hallway into my little brother’s room to see if he is awake. We wait for our other sister to join us so we can all walk out to greet the tree and an array of beautifully wrapped presents and stockings stuffed so full they had to be taken of their hooks and placed beneath the fireplace. We all look at our Dad who has been up since dark waiting with his camera in hand to take the first of many snapshots of surprised faces. My mom meets us on the carpet as we sit in front of the fireplace and start to open our stockings. Her face lights up with anticipation, months of preparation finally about to come to an end. Her smile is full of love, but tinted with the shadow of fatigue from staying up all night wrapping presents. I take a deep breath to take it all in, Christmas Morning.
Some things never change. Our family has many traditions. I know we will always have homemade cinnamon rolls. I know we will always get pajamas on Christmas Eve. I know my Mom will always be tired Christmas morning because she waits til the night before Christmas to wrap most of her presents and I know my Dad will always be taking ridiculously ugly picture of us that he likes to call candid as we open our presents in the morning.
This year many things will change for us though. This year for the first time when my Mom says don’t expect a lot from Santa this year I believe her. This year I will not need to go into my brother’s room so I can walk out with him to see the expression on his face when he sees what Santa brought or how many presents there are because he isn’t getting anything big. This year instead of opening presents until 2:00pm we will probably be done in the morning. These things I know will change.
Presents are not the important part of Christmas though and so despite the fact that this year there are going to be many changes, our traditions are not going to change. Our traditions are what make Christmas so special and personal. As long as those don’t change, I don’t need anything else. So, my Christmas wish is not for me. My Christmas wish is not for more presents under the tree. My wish is for my Mom. I want her to know it’s OK that Christmas will look different this year because as long as the 5 of us are together it won’t feel any different and that’s what is important.
Mom, we don’t need new presents and more things. You provide enough for us all year round and now it is time to celebrate our family and the love we have for each other. We are still going to wake up to the smell of your cinnamon rolls. We are still going to stay in our pajamas until we are forced to change because we are having company for Christmas dinner. Christmas will still be the same in our hearts.
I have this wish for all Moms, not just my own. Don’t worry about the presents, focus on the traditions. Traditions are where the memories come from. Good memories come from love not a pocket book and good memories are the best gift you could give your child.
I love you Mom.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Status Quo Thanksgiving
Spending Thanksgiving with my family this year made me feel more connected to my roots than ever. I guess you could say my family is the typical, “traditional” American family. My grandparents are the type of people who founded this country. You know what I’m talking about. The white, wealthy, stuck in their way, hard working, and republican type. As a student I often hear about inequalities in society and there seems to be a lot of animosity towards this type of person, but it is hard for me to join in the banter because I know this type very well, they are my family. My family dates back to the Mayflower. I am related to John Irish, one of the people aboard the Mayflower. Despite everything, this is something I am proud of.
When I say despite everything I’m talking about despite the fact that thanksgiving didn’t occur exactly how I was taught as a kid and despite the fact that the white people coming to America was probably the worst thing that happened to the Native Americans. In fact in school today kids aren’t celebrating the pilgrims anymore, now it is politically correct to celebrate the just Native Americans.
I will never forget the pilgrims though, and when I visit my family I will never forget how much we as a nation have changed and progressed.
I spent thanksgiving in Carmel Valley where my Mom’s parents have a house. My Dad’s dad also came with his girlfriend. My Mom’s aunt and uncle were also there, and my now very pregnant aunt came too. The black sheep’s of the group were my grandma’s friend’s daughter and husband who live in San Francisco. They were obviously liberal and lived there life the exact opposite way my grandparents believe in. The next morning when they were gone I was shocked to hear that everyone over the age of 60 thought that this couple was just ranting the whole night. I didn’t hear any ranting, but it just shows how different the generations are.
Celebrating thanksgiving for me is supposed to be about family and really appreciating the family you have and being thankful for everything, but this year it felt like just another meal, but with more people and food. This year I was more afraid of keeping my dog away from my grandpa so he wouldn’t bother him, more than I was focused on family. No one waited for everyone to get to the table to start eating; no one gave a speech or a nice toast. Everything was status quo just the way they like it.
My real thanksgiving happened two days before the actual event. My sister, her boyfriend and I drove to Fremont from Sacramento to go home for the holiday. My sister had work black Friday at 3:30am so she wasn’t going to be able to go to Carmel for thanksgiving. She didn’t even know if she was going to be able to go home at all, so it was a last minute trip. As we were about to leave Sacramento I text my Mom and told her we were on our way home. Two hours later when we arrived at the house there was a turkey in one oven, a pumpkin pie in the other, and a fruit salad in the fridge. My Mom wanted my sister to have a thanksgiving with the family. This is what thanksgiving is about to me love, and despite everything I love my white, wealthy, stuck in their way, hard working, republican type grandparents. And although they are stuck in their ways they make me remember where I came from, which is another thing important to me on thanksgiving.
When I say despite everything I’m talking about despite the fact that thanksgiving didn’t occur exactly how I was taught as a kid and despite the fact that the white people coming to America was probably the worst thing that happened to the Native Americans. In fact in school today kids aren’t celebrating the pilgrims anymore, now it is politically correct to celebrate the just Native Americans.
I will never forget the pilgrims though, and when I visit my family I will never forget how much we as a nation have changed and progressed.
I spent thanksgiving in Carmel Valley where my Mom’s parents have a house. My Dad’s dad also came with his girlfriend. My Mom’s aunt and uncle were also there, and my now very pregnant aunt came too. The black sheep’s of the group were my grandma’s friend’s daughter and husband who live in San Francisco. They were obviously liberal and lived there life the exact opposite way my grandparents believe in. The next morning when they were gone I was shocked to hear that everyone over the age of 60 thought that this couple was just ranting the whole night. I didn’t hear any ranting, but it just shows how different the generations are.
Celebrating thanksgiving for me is supposed to be about family and really appreciating the family you have and being thankful for everything, but this year it felt like just another meal, but with more people and food. This year I was more afraid of keeping my dog away from my grandpa so he wouldn’t bother him, more than I was focused on family. No one waited for everyone to get to the table to start eating; no one gave a speech or a nice toast. Everything was status quo just the way they like it.
My real thanksgiving happened two days before the actual event. My sister, her boyfriend and I drove to Fremont from Sacramento to go home for the holiday. My sister had work black Friday at 3:30am so she wasn’t going to be able to go to Carmel for thanksgiving. She didn’t even know if she was going to be able to go home at all, so it was a last minute trip. As we were about to leave Sacramento I text my Mom and told her we were on our way home. Two hours later when we arrived at the house there was a turkey in one oven, a pumpkin pie in the other, and a fruit salad in the fridge. My Mom wanted my sister to have a thanksgiving with the family. This is what thanksgiving is about to me love, and despite everything I love my white, wealthy, stuck in their way, hard working, republican type grandparents. And although they are stuck in their ways they make me remember where I came from, which is another thing important to me on thanksgiving.
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