I was wrapping presents the other day and since I haven’t gone out and bought any sticky nametag thingees this year, I would take a marker and write the first letter of the gift recipients name with the intention of going back later and putting a bow over that big letter and sticking on a proper gift tag. It worked out fine until I realized J could be Juliet or Joe and D could be Dad or Deronda. SO I made some tags and stuck them on as I wrapped. But the incident took me back a few years when my mom spent a whole day wrapping presents. She always went a little overboard at Christmas. The grandkids could expect at least 5 or 6 gifts and the rest of us at least 3. With 5 kids, several in-laws, and 8 grandkids there were a lot of presents. Each one carefully hand picked by my mom who somehow always knew exactly what to buy. Anyway, as she wrapped she would set the present aside and whether or not it dawned on her that at some point there would be no way to indentify whose was whose amidst the pile since she wasn’t putting names on them, I can’t say. Knowing my mom, she probably was so caught up in her wrapping and thinking about her family that she simply forgot. So the story goes, at the end of her wrapping spree, she realized that the gifts looked the same wrapped and she had no idea who got what. I can imagine her laughing out loud at herself because she had the most wonderful sense of humor and the ability to laugh at herself, make fun of her silliness was one of the most lovable things about her.
Now, had it been me, I would have at least opened the end of the present to see what the box said and figure out who it belong to. Not my mom. She just guessed by shaking and feeling the package. She put nametags on all the gifts and put them under the tree.
Now Christmas eve at mom’s was the most fun and the most chaotic day of the year. Every room of her big old house was filled with people that day. The upstairs bedrooms were always filled up with whoever happened to be staying that year because they lived too far away to drive home. The den always had the tree because it was the only room that could hold the tree and the sometimes 8 feet of presents sticking out from under it. And the kitchen and dining area were always full of people talking to her as she cooked, or just hovering and listening to her tell stories about her childhood. Christmas at my moms was a lot like those Norman Rockwall paintings you see. On that day you would find my mom giddy with joy that all her family was there and that the house was overflowing.
That year as we prepared to open our gifts, little did we know the laughter that was in store. For as Garry opened a gift intended for Connie, and Jimmy opened a gift intended for little Jenna, and dad opened a gift intended for me it became a hysterical moment of pure joy and laughter as my mom told us what she had done and re-directed the gifts to the right person. I think that was the year that she got all the men in the family sweatpants and sweatshirts which was a great idea. The sizes were the problem. Mike got a medium sweatshirt and an xl bottom prompted him to ask me if my mom thought he had a big butt. LOL Robert had the xl shirt and the medium bottoms and the switch was made. Thankfully, she had gotten all the same colors. I still remember Garry opening up a box and in it was a pink robe and the look on his face as he held it up and heard my mom exclaim for across the room “oh, that’s’ for Connie, Garry! “ Thank goodness he must’ve thought.
And always, there was my dad, hovering at the door of the den ready to swoop down like a vulture and grab the wrapping paper the minute it hit the floor. Only on Christmas did he morph into Mr. Orderly. I think it was the only way he could cope with the chaos, to have something to do.
Christmas was never the same after 2003 because shortly before Christmas 2004 my mom lost her battle to Cancer. That first Christmas without her was a blur. I remember very little about it that year other than an overwhelming sense of sadness that was just under the surface for everyone there as we tried to carry on as normal as she would have wanted. And we have managed to have fun every year since though as our kids have grown and married and moved away and sometimes rotate the years with in-laws etc. not all of us are there like it used to be when mom was alive. When mom was alive, you would do whatever it took to be there because it was the best time you would have all year, hands down.
We still get together, every year as best we can. We don’t have 8 feet of presents anymore. We don’t even draw names anymore so the number of gifts is substantially different than the old days. We still cook and laugh and there is still chaos to go around. And every Christmas I am thankful for the memories of Christmas past. From the year my dad trying to run over a skunk in the front yard with his truck before everyone arrived and running over the dog instead (it lived)…to the year that Grant shattered the lights in the gospel barn with his powerful swing at the piñata, to the year that Robert got stuck in the snow trying to drive the 50 feet from the house to the barn because we decided at the last minute to change the location of our get-together (I still remember little Eric saying “did bobert get tuck?” . To the year that my dad decided he could shop for my mom himself and bought her day of the week panties which she opened and quickly put aside, embarrassed to death. To the year that all the women got jewelry from their spouses, except for me…I got an electric shaver …and boy was I mad! To the year that Jimmy sang the entire present opening experience, making up the words as he went along…gonna have to dig out that video and share….so many memories to pull out and re-live and everyone of t hem makes my heart smile.
Joe didn’t get the full experience last year as my fiancée because he had to work and arrived late to the festivities. This year he will be there for the whole thing. Little does he know he is about to take the plunge into the chaos that is Christmas for the LaFave family. I can hardly wait to introduce him to the craziness. He’s in for a wild ride.
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