Now of course I have memories of opening presents, rubbing lipstick off my cheeks from over affectionate family members that only saw me once a year, and singing messed up versions of carols with siblings and friends. Those are nice and everything but here are a few that really stuck with me.
First off, I totally believed in Santa until I was about 10 or 11. I had friends who didn't believe who had parents that encouraged the logical thinking aka lack of imagination (in my opinion). I'd had many a heated argument with my non-believing friends that was not entirely unlike a religious debate. I was a kid with some pretty stubborn convictions. My parents were really good at making the whole Santa thing convincing. We used to put out cookies and carrots (for the reindeer) and find them on Christmas morning with bites taken out of them. That, to child me, was indisputable scientific evidence right there. I officially stopped believing around the time my age hit double digits, I don't remember a specific moment I stopped; I think it was just a gradual painless realization.
A few other Santa related memories include: My mom dressing me and my siblings in nice clothes that were all velvet and long sleeved as if it was cold outside (hah!) and dragging us to the mall to wait in a theme park sized line to take pictures with Santa. I always found mall Santas to be a little creepy... They sit on a throne of lies (Elf!!). Also, I remember being maybe 4 or so when I had a HUGE epiphany. It was the perfect loophole! I could be bad, and Santa would give me clothes instead of toys BUT I would still get good presents from my other family members. Then my mom said she would just tell everyone I was bad and make sure they didn't get me anything. Dammit. I lost my case.
One of the best parts of the season is the lights. My siblings and I had the tradition of screaming "CHRISTMAS LIIIIGHTS" at the top of our lungs when we went by a lit up house. A fair amount of houses were decorated so driving through any given neighborhood was potential hell for our parents. Luckily for them, if we did it too much, they had the power of turning on loud Tejano music until we begged them to turn it down and promised to be quiet the whole way home. Good times...
I also remember going to Ma and Pa's for Christmas. They were my grandparents and their house always smelled like cigarettes. To me, it just smelled like their house and never really bothered me too much. I remember when Ma got Bria a box of spiders, and me a bag of snakes. That was pretty awesome cause we got like every specie of snake and spider. They were plastic by the way. Did you think my own grandmother actually gave me live poisonous snakes for Christmas?? Wow, you're terrible.
Hah!! And then there was my great aunt who had the wooden letters N O E L on her mantel. Only problem was, she arranged them to say NOLE. My dad rearranged them only to have her switch them back. Hahahah so stupid. We even have photographic evidence. It's priceless.
I also remember breaking a few fragile glass ornaments before my parents figured out that small children = nice ornaments go out of reach on the tree. I remember being pretty small and deciding to hold the ornament and it slipped out of my hands and shattered into a million glittery pieces. Broken Christmas ornaments always remind of me of The Nightmare Before Christmas. Saw that movie when I was 2 years old and it still makes a lasting impression on me. But back to the ornament incident, I did what every 4 year old did when they break something; I walked away at a pretty fast pace.
The great thing about Christmas is that is doesn't lose its charm as you get older, it just kind of changes. I look forward to it every year, and every year I'm convinced it was the best Christmas ever. I hate being cheesy about it, but there's really no way around that. :)
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