Christmas Means Peanuts, Presents and Traditions

It seems I'm way behind on this blog. But lately I've been doing a lot of thinking about my childhood, so now is the perfect time to start writing here again. Maybe it's because it's the holiday season or maybe it's because I now have a child of my own. I STILL do not have pictures scanned in, but as I was decorating the tree, I thought of something.

Last year, I took some pictures of my ornaments thinking I would use the photos to make cool Christmas cards. Of course, I never followed through with that idea (like so many ideas I have). One of the things I like about decorating the tree is simply unwrapping each ornament and seeing it again for the first time. I have many from my childhood because my mom sent me a bunch of them.

I have quite the collection of Peanuts ornaments. I love these, and my collection grows every year! I have some from that date back to the early '80s, I'd guess. And, every time I get these out I'm reminded of Christmas when I was growing up.

I can't even remember when I got this glass ornament of Charlie
Brown, but he always gets a prime spot on the tree.

Christmas morning, us kids were not allowed to see the tree until Mom and Dad had finished making breakfast, my dad was done drinking his coffee and skimming the newspaper and the video camera was on and ready. Then, we'd shuffle excitedly down the hallway in our matching pajamas (that we got to open on Christmas Eve).

The tree was three-feet deep in presents! My mom went all-out every year. Me and my three younger sisters could hardly wait to rip into the joy under that tree because, as everyone knows, presents are the way to a kid's heart!

In front of the presents, there was usually four of some kind of toy unwrapped. Just sitting there waiting for us. It was usually four different, but similar, dolls. Or, teddy bears. Or, horse figurines. As we got older, these gifts changed, but there was always something out in the open to entice us.

It took our family ages to open all the presents because we did it one at a time. Our friends would call and want to play, and we'd happily decline because "we're still opening gifts!" We loved to stretch it out. So, from about 8 a.m. to 2 p.m. every Christmas you would find us comfortably seated around the tree. My dad would keep the fire going with Christmas wrap (and once, my new doll's pom-poms...oops -- my mom was so mad!). We'd break for Christmas casserole (a wonderful bread-cheese-bacon-egg combo that your dad and I adopted as our own tradition), orange juice, egg nog and coffee cake.

Every time I open another ornament I remember these things and more. Someday, my little boy, you will have memories like these, too. And, this year -- even though you probably won't remember -- will be the beginning of your traditions. But, you won't get any egg and bacon casserole. Sorry, you'll have settle for pureed squash. Next year...next year...

Coming Soon

I'm so excited to start posting here, but I'm having some technical difficulties getting my old pictures scanned in. I promise, I will get back to this blog. I can't wait!

The Eyes Have It

My Mommy (your Grandma) sent me my newborn picture taken one hour after I was born on September 26, 1977. Grandma told me that all the nurses and doctors thought my Daddy (your Grandpa) was of Asian descent because of the shape of my eyes. He isn't. Mommy wonders if this shape comes from our Welsh lines.

Looking at this picture, I can see how they may have thought that I had Asian genes. When I look at your newborn photo, I think you have similar eyes, but you definitely have your Daddy's mouth and chin. Daddy and I aren't sure whose nose you have. I suppose we'll find out as you get older.

Obviously, Mommy doesn't remember being a baby, and you won't either. But, know this: Daddy and I fretted over your every whimper, cry and grunt. We laughed at every funny face you made and all your silly sounds. We held you when you were upset. We fed you when you were hungry (a lot). We smiled when you slept well and worried when you didn't. We second-guessed every decision we made because we wanted to be sure we were doing what was best for our baby -- you.

Happy Birthday!

May 27, 2008. This was the day you were born -- the day after Memorial Day. We were so excited to meet you. Aren't you cute?

As you grow, Mommy will be documenting all your milestones -- not here, but in a private journal that someday I will give to you. I thought you might also like to know what Mommy was like when she was growing up, which is why I started Mamamoir. (Don't laugh too hard. Remember, Mommy grew up in the '80s -- a really bad era for clothing and hair styles.)

Love you,
Mom