Family Christmas

Christmas with the Coils, one word comes to mind...Chaos. I suppose it's like that at any family gathering, though. At least it is if you follow the Griswold's example; we're not far from that. It seems the day goes by so quickly but at the same time it feels as if it will never end. You prepare for weeks, perhaps even months for this one day, this one event--Christmas. Then, it's gone in a rush of utter chaos and noise, noise, noise.

This year, like most years, Christmas day began at approximately 4:30 a.m. My son repeated "Psst" and "Hey, Mom" until I finally jolted awake, shocked to see a little face only two inches form my own. I caught sight of the clock and mumble something incoherent. Then, I patted his little head and put him back to bed along with his sister who I found counting presents and complaining that he got more than she did; which, by the way, was not the case. Of course, like most children, they whined and moaned about not being sleepy, yet less than 30 minutes later they were both sound in their beds. In fact, we finally had to rouse the little eager beavers so we could get Christmas rolling.

With the tree as their witness, my young mongrels tore through their presents. I, naturally, took many pictures and we assembled all that needed assembling. Then, we relaxed with the 3 Stooges DVDs that Santa had left us--at least until 1:00. After lunch it was off to the races. Everyone dressed in their new Christmas duds, we loaded all the pretty packages and to grandmother's house we go. Actually, it was Nana and Pap pa's house--the children's great-grandparents. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandparents but their house is absolutely stifling. Try packing over a dozen people, half of which are young children, into a small two bedroom home that is 83 degrees on average. Not so comfortable! Anyway, after the presents were opened and the soup was ate (nothing like hot soup in a hot house filled with screaming, running children) we ventured out into the wind and snow and headed for stop number two on our holiday voyage--Mama and Papa's house, my parents.

At least my parents' house was cooler but it was just as loud. Once the children caught sight of the mound of presents under Mama and Papa's tree they became like little screaming hyenas fighting over an antelope's carcass. We had to work quickly to gather the adults into the living room and together we were able to corral the wild beasts and momentarily pacify them with the passing of the carcass pieces. And boy did those hyenas feast, feast, feast. Foiled, sparkling paper flew like confetti at New Years and once again assembly was required. After the carnage was cleared and another cup of coffee was downed it was at last time to gather our holiday spoils and head home. Luckily, we cut out before I was forced to sing lead vocals on Rock Band.

With the trunk full and the children sated we once again ventured out into the wind and snow and made our way home. Load and unload, load and unload, load and unload that seems to be the customary pattern of this particular season. But I'd miss the monotony despite my complaints.

There is, however, something to learn from this season of seasons and, contrary to popular belief, it isn't the cliche of holiday giving and all that crap, either. First, you must realize that I do love my family but they annoy the hell out of me. I'm sure most of you can relate. However, despite spending the majority of the year avoiding them like the plague (that may be overly dramatic but you get my point) I always find myself looking forward to my family's Christmas. Even though it's near torture to endure my grandparents' inferno of a home and despite the annoyance it causes me to listen to my over medicated grandmother stutter over every word while her teeth flop out of her mouth; I really don't mind spending a few hours with them on Christmas day. I feel better for it. And, no matter how many times I roll my eyes at my mother's plethora of stories she has to tell about every present she bought, deep down I don't mind. Christmas, for me, is a reminder of why I avoid my family for the better part of the year. However, despite the mental rash they give me I am also reminded that without a touch of torment Christmas just wouldn't be the same. Besides, I have all year to salve over my mental rash and prepare for the enjoyment of Christmas hell once again.

Merry Christmas everyone and enjoy the New Year. For now, I'm off to Part II of holly-jolly fun filled torment. Wish me luck.