It's been 2 years since I've written a blog post. Writing is good therapy though, so I guess it's time to resurrect it. I have struggled with getting in the Christmas spirit this year. This Cindy Lou Who, has felt a little Grinchy. Thinking back on it, holidays in general have been rough this year. I think I finally realized it's because my kids are getting older. The magic I to love creating for them isn't as exciting to them anymore. They don't want to make crafts, have Christmas music dance parties or even drive around to look at Christmas lights. I think I built up my own expectations for myself too. I always go big, and this year I just haven't had it in me. Internally I have all of these things I want to do or expect myself to do, but I just cannot seem to muster up the strength to do them. As I change my Christmas countdown calendar at work each day I internally cringe because it means another day has gone by that I still haven't finished shopping, that I haven't baked Christmas cookies, or that I haven't done a fun activity with the boys.
The first half of 2025 was great. The last half I have felt like it's been one gut punch after another. Especially since we lost Toby. After that, it's just been one thing after another. I keep a lot of that to myself. I've cried more tears in 3 months than the rest of the year combined. Silent tears in bed after the boys are asleep. Long hot shower cries that cleanse the soul. A few good sobs in the car by myself.
As I sit here today, I just want to go back. Back in time. Just to visit. I long for Christmas past. I want to watch a reel of my family at Christmas time growing up. I miss those nights where we'd turn all the lights off, turn on Christmas music and all hang out in the living room with only the light of the Christmas tree. There was something so magical about that. I'm literally in tears just remembering. I want to be sitting on a barstool in the kitchen at our Eastview house, watching mom roll out and cut cookies into stars, bells, trees and candles. I want to sneak into the refrigerator and steal bites of cookie dough she left to chill. I want to decorate the cookies and swipe licks of frosting from the spoon.
For several years, mom would host a Christmas gathering with 2 of our neighbor’s families. The kids would get banished to the basement to watch a movie. I thought I was an adult most of my childhood, so I would bounce back and forth between the kids and adults. Mom would have endless Christmas goodies sitting on the counter. I would go back and forth all night eating…this is probably the start of my binge eating habits!
I think about dancing around the living room to the Alivn and the Chipmunks record. I remember piling in the car on a chilly evening and driving around to look at Christmas lights with the family. Or the special nights when I'd spend the night at Grandma and Grandpa's house and they'd take me to look at lights. The best ones were in Stoney Point (or the "rich people" houses as we called them).
I want to go back and sit on my sister’s bed going through the JCPenney Christmas catalog page by page. We’d each pick one thing from every page that we’d get if we could. There were rules. We couldn’t pick the same thing, and we HAD to pick something, even if it was on a page with “stupid toys for boys”.
I remember Christmas programs at church every year. So many weeks of practicing and then the performance. Afterward we'd all get a brown paper bag with goodies. I couldn't tell you everything that was inside anymore, but I do remember there was always a colorful candy cane which was the first thing I would eat.
There were of course Santa visits, whether it be at the mall or the local radio station. Of course we knew that wasn't the real Santa, but he was most definitely one of Santa’s helpers. I will always remember the sketchy Santa who wore white Velcro shoes and when I asked him for walkie talkies he asked what a “talkie walkie” was.
I wish I could feel the anticipation of Christmas at Grandma and Grandpa Thatcher’s house. That 2.5 hour drive felt like forever. I knew Grandma or Great Grandma would have homemade chicken and noodles ready for me to devour. The entire dining room and living room would be filled with people, and I would spend most of the day wishing everyone would hurry up and go home so I could have more time with Grandma. As the years went on and people started passing away those dinners started getting smaller and smaller. Now they’re gone forever and oh how I wish I could go back and just savor those moments.
Christmas morning was almost always spent at home. I think there was only one year we celebrated in Chariton instead. Actually we need to back up to Christmas Eve. I LOVED Christmas Eve. The build up. The anticipation. Santa was coming! As kids, Grandma and Grandpa S would come over and usually give us some chocolate Santas. Mom and Dad would let us open 2 or 3 small gifts. Usually a calendar, socks and maybe another small trinket. Cookies and milk were set out and I swear to you there were years I heard reindeer bells. The power of suggestion is real.
Now to Christmas morning. I was usually the first one up. The rule was we could sit in the living room but we couldn’t touch anything. We could look. And we had to wait for Mom and Dad to wake up. Stockings were ALWAYS first. We went around the room one by one pulling out one item at a time. I used to laugh because Mom would fill her own stocking…now I do the same for myself! I always do a great job. There was always a pause for breakfast, and then on to the regular gifts. How I wish I could open gifts from Santa again with full belief that it was from this magical man in a sleigh.
Christmas afternoon was spent at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Grandma would make lunch. Nothing like my other Grandma’s fancy meals. But special nonetheless. Except for the year of the exploding macaroni. Grandpa said, “Time to eat, Rachel!”. He proceeded to put a cold metal spoon into the very hot Pyrex dish and, “BAM!” Shattered glass went flying everywhere, to which Grandpa calmly said, “Go back to the living room, Rachel.” Or the year Grandma tried to kill me by putting cayanne pepper on the deviled eggs instead of paprika. I don’t need to relive those moments, but it sure would be funny to go back and watch them from afar.
I long for moments that are just memories now. The boys and I have our own traditions and I still carry on some of the childhood traditions I grew up with. Maybe one day they will carry on some of them with their own families.
Time doesn’t stop. It doesn’t slow down. We can’t go back. I keep seeing nostalgic 90’s Christmas reels and TikToks and can’t help but feel a wave of happiness mixed with grief. So thank you Mom (and Dad…but let’s face it, it was mostly Mom) for providing us with Christmas magic each year. Even though I’m homesick for a time that doesn’t exist anymore, I am thankful for the memories.
Even though I feel like I’m not doing a good job this year, I pray the boys will still feel a little holiday magic. I’ve been trying to fake it til I make it. I know it doesn’t matter what’s under the tree. The thing that matters most is remembering the birth of Jesus and being together, even when your mom still makes you wear matching jammies. (One of the traditions I started).
