Traditions: The Good, The Bad, and the Unofficial

I like a good tradition but I'm not one to fly off the handle if we celebrate Christmas on a day  *gasp* OTHER than Christmas day! My opinion has always been that as long as the family can be together, it doesn't matter WHAT day it is. Growing up we celebrated both Christmas and a condensed version of Hanukkah (my father grew up Jewish but later converted to Catholicism soon after he and my mother were married). The holidays seemed simple enough, we celebrated Hanukkah on Christmas Eve, and we celebrated Christmas on Christmas day. Each day had its own traditions, some of which I try to incorporate into my own new family traditions, and some we thankfully left to linger as memories. 

Christmas Eve/Hanukkah
Shrimp cocktail - three per person! I think that shrimp cocktail was a lot more expensive back when I was growing up. Maybe it wasn't as readily available, maybe the adults worried that we wouldn't eat what we had on our plates. Whatever way you spin it, I will forever associate shrimp cocktail with my grandma's house. Shrimp cocktail is incorporated into our present holiday tradition. It remains delicious and we are fortunate enough to maintain an ample supply.
Looking for Santa - Now I'm not sure who started this and certainly it didn't last forever, but at some point during the night we would hear distant sleigh bells and one of the adults would call us all to look out the back windows because someone had spotted Santa's sleigh. Being the youngest, I thank the older kids who humored me. I typically stood there the longest thinking that if I looked away for just one second, I would surely miss it. Eventually someone would lure me away from the window, possibly with an additional piece of shrimp.
My first bra - Yes, I know this doesn't have anything to do with tradition, but it will forever be emblazoned to my memory as a monumental Christmas event. My parents bought me this red silk skirt and white blouse combo to wear that day. It was a real blouse, the kind my mom wore and I felt so grown up; but like any good blouse wearer, I need an accompanying bra. I don't remember the shopping part, my mom probably just brought it home and told me to wear it, but however it happened, it was a big deal and will remain a part of my Christmas memories. Heck, maybe I will be lucky enough to bestow upon my own daughter her first bra. Maybe even on Christmas.
Lights out, tree on - This was by far one of my favorite traditions and is something I still do today; and one of these days my kids will grow to appreciate it too, I swear. We did this the first day the tree was set up, and usually when we got home from my grandparent's house on Christmas Eve. The lights of the house would all be out, and we would come home and lay on the floor or couch and stare at the tree lights. We would attempt to find multi-colored constellations and patterns all the while dreaming about our Christmas lists and what might be lurking under the tree the next morning.

Christmas Day
Strawberries on Ritz - Gross, I know. Not to be outdone by the adults in the appetizer department, my cousin and I dreamed up a delicious canapé consisting of strawberries (perhaps frozen) and Ritz crackers. There might have been cream cheese between the strawberry and the cracker. We plated them up and walked them around to the family, butler-style. The adults obediently took a few bites of our culinary delight, smiled, then politely spit it out in a napkin once we turned to the next guest. Needless to say, this tradition has not been carried on. A few years ago our parents replicated this appetizer and forced us to eat it.
Soup or Fruit? This is another strange food rationing quirk, but on my mom's side of the family. Our semi-traditional Italian Christmas started with wedding soup or fruit salad (followed by the Christmas lasagna, of course). We would sit at the kids table and the adults would come around and ask if we wanted soup or fruit? There was never an option for both, and after the soup was served, the fruit did some magical disappearing act. I never actually saw anyone take the fruit, the fruit was an enigma. As adults we still joke about the soup/fruit conundrum. This is actually the first year Christmas will not take place at my Grandmother's house. Hoping the tradition, and the option carries on. 
Pageantry - Like any good traditional American family, Christmas (and more or less any other holiday gathering with my cousins) ended up with the kids putting on some sort of show. My sister, typically was our director and we found ourselves acting out scenes from various movies, musicals, or an original piece. There was a magical trunk filled with moth-ball scented suits, dresses, and other rejected hand-me-downs. I honestly think the adults enjoyed this as much as we did. Rehearsals kept us busy, and out of trouble (for the most part). Unfortunately, the performances stopped about the time we hit high school. As adults, we have tried to convince our offspring to put down the iPods and come up with some sort of holiday entertainment...we are still waiting. 
Torrone - Nougat + honey + almonds, sometimes lemon flavored, sometimes orange, sometimes vanilla. There was always a jar of them in the dining room at Christmas. You either love them or hate them. Personally, I love them. I buy them when I see them, but they have to be the La Florentine brand. So far, my son likes them...tradition secured.

My keyboard is currently lit by the dim multi-colored lights of our Christmas tree. Everyone is sleeping and the house is silent. The lights start to blur as I stare into them, trying to find patterns. No longer worried about what gifts I might be receiving, I look forward to the excitement on our children's faces and I look forward to the traditions that we create within our own small family unit.  

Merry Christmas

We Heart Santa

I love photos with Santa, but only the kind that would make Norman Rockwell roll over in his grave (he is dead, right?). It only took one year of having kids to realize that I would never be the kind of parent who was able to walk away with that Rockwellian Christmas photo, so I embraced it.
The first year Gus was old enough to really have a cute Santa photo was a big deal for me. I made a point to dress him up in his finest holiday sweater-vest and have his picture taken at our annual kids holiday party at the office. One of the employees was known for his realistic, (naturally-bearded) portrayal of Santa. I stood in line waiting for our turn with every intention of expecting that picture-perfect moment between my child, wonder and awe in his eyes, and Santa. It took about one second to realize this wasn't going to happen. So I walked away with a photo of my son, the kid who cried so hard that he was redder than Santa's coat and had a mixture of tears, drool, and snot smeared across his face, and a giggling Santa.
As the years progressed, I sort of made it my goal to walk away with the worst picture with Santa that I could muster. I have actually been pretty lucky. But Gus is older now and the terror of Santa has sort of worn off. But we are lucky enough to have Parker. Parker is almost two. She is what the books and websites refer to as "spirited" so I figured that this Santa thing could go either way. So last night, I packed the kids up and headed out to the mall. We have a really great Santa at our mall, you know, the kind with the REAL beard {my husband (the Bacon) recently regurgitated some statistic relating to the fact that naturally-bearded Santas make more money during the holiday season then their artificially-bearded counterparts}. The kids were particularly well-behaved on this trip. They quietly sat through a cell phone upgrade (a feat in of itself), a healthy food-court dinner, and a quick stop at the jewelry store to have a ring repaired. But then it was time...SANTA! Gus became a little shy as we approached the big guy, but I could tell that he didn't want to miss out on the opportunity to put in his request for Optimus Prime and Bumble Bee. But as luck would have it, I have been blessed with another child, terrified of Santa. 

I took this one with my cell phone (good thing I stopped in for that upgrade). You can see the terror on Parker's face at being left with this guy. And Gus, although it is blurry, is holding his sister's hand and looking at Santa as if to say, do you see this, I'm being a good brother.

Below is the gem that was captured by the photographer at the mall and I must say that she has a gift. Parker is at the peak of her shrieks and Gus cannot lean further away. He doesn't want to be associated with the creature who might ruin his chances at scoring Optimus or Bumble Bee. He told us this morning that she embarrassed him in front of Santa—how sweet.

So our journey continues and I can only hope that next year's picture holds the same amount terror and tears. We wish you all a Merry Christmas.