Roses in December ~ and Tinker Toys Too.

God gave us memories that we might have roses in December.  ~J.M. Barrie

Oh sigh.  My children have reached that painful age where Santa is no longer believed in, and barrels full of toys will bring little joy.  On their list this year?  Gift cards  and electronic gadgets and games.  They want cold hard cash and digital dream boxes that cost more than my first car did.

This has made Christmas shopping relatively painless.  Quick and easy.  And desperately sad.

When I was a child, my family was poor. P-o -o-r.  Spelled out and with a capital P.  This was something that my brother and I  were reminded of, constantly.  When we needed new shoes, or wanted spending money for a field trip at school, or hoped to join a group or club.  The answer was so often "no" - we learned not to ask. 

The only time we were lifted from our reminder was on Christmas Day.  My parents were equally committed to making the holiday magical for us.  Of course our circumstances hadn't changed, but for one special day each year, they didn't matter.  Magic, ensued.

When I was very young, my parents couldn't afford a Christmas tree.  No matter.  My mother would take her costume jewelry and drape it from a decorative branch in our living room.  Always the night before Christmas, while my brother and I were sleeping.  "Look what the elves did, in the middle of the night!" She'd tell us.  And we believed her.  We believed that Santa  and his elves had stopped by in the middle of the night, to ensure that our Christmas would be special. 




Lack of money did not deter Santa from crowding our floor full of gifts.  With my mother conspiring with the elves, most of our gifts were handmade.  I love the rocket for my brother below, made from a gift wrap tube and aluminum foil.  And the huge plush dolls, a boy for my brother and a girl for me.  And in the middle, the original ugly doll.  A plushie before its time, whom my brother and I named Limburger.  After the cheese, the grossest thing we could think of.  We loved Limburger, and would bring him to each other when or the other of us was sad.   If Jesse skinned his knee, I would bring him Limburger to make it better.  If I had to stay home from school with a cold or fever, Jesse would tuck Limburger into bed with me, before he headed out for a day of first grade.


And then the day came.

I both hate and love this picture of me.  Stuffed animals and aircraft created from foil would no longer do.

Here I am, on Christmas morning, age 13.  I am on the phone.  As a teenager will be.  With the one gift I'd asked for, and already received, tucked squarely under my arm.  Karma Chameleon by Culture club.   Hooray.

I know I was excited when I opened the tell tale flat wrapped gift.  I know I thanked my mother apropriately, that I hugged her and told her how happy I was.

And then, I disappeared.  Right before her eyes.  Still standing there, still in the house.  No stuffed dolls to hold my attention rapt.  No new crayons to keep me occupied and happy on the floor.

Instead I was making plans, getting ready to meet up with friends, conspiring about boys.  Things my mother couldn't know or wouldn't understand. 

Christmas day seemed to sum up the evolution of our life.  There was only so much my mother could give me, and only so much I wanted to receive.


And so it goes.  My children want to be dropped off at the mall for Christmas, with cash in hand.  My heart breaks at the thought.

I wanted to talk to my husband about this, but I thought - would he understand?

Last night he came home from a trip to Lowes with an extra bag in his hand.  He'd made a side shopping trip.  He hurried into the bedroom, and beckoned for me to follow.  He'd made a stop at a local toy store -"even though the kids aren't really asking for toys," he explained.

And from the box he pulled a long lidded tin box.  Tinker Toys.  Tinker toys!

"Shhhh!" he whispered.  "They're from Santa.  They're for all of us."

And even though I am still a bit melancholy, I am warmed and reassured by his sweet gesture.  I don't think he could have pleased me more, had he brought me a bouquet of flowers.

This December, my roses are long skinny wooden sticks, blooming with round wooden orbs.

I couldn't ask for anything more.

Happy holidays to you all ~ In amongst your gift cards and X Boxes, may you receive many roses this December, and perhaps, even, a tinker toy or two, as well.

xoxo - Chel

Comments

[Scritto da: Cinda Rae Oliverio]

Merry Christmas Day and Blessed Christmas Eve darling girly!!!and all of your loved ones! Have FUN with those Tinker toys, what a SWEET hubby!!! By the way, I have roses, my 35th wedding anniversary was yesterday!!! tee hee

[Scritto da: lorraine]

Chel- My heart goes out to you- My childhood was very similiar and now as an adult it is all very bittersweet. Having my own children and being able to give them more than I ever had compounds the feelings even more.
Wishing you the best new years to come.
Hugs
Lorraine