Christmas ups and downs

Well, it took a few minutes, but the new snowman plush toy managed to comfort Elizabeth sufficiently to overcome the trauma inflicted by the remote-control "berry" toy that Daddy got her.

When pyat finally got the batteries into both parts of this thing and made it move across the floor, she screamed and ran, picking up one of my discarded slippers for comfort. She was crying into it when I arrived on the scene. So I picked her up, brought her into the kitchen, and let her watch as Daddy and Maman made the toy do things. Then we let her try. It took a few more startled head-buried-in-Maman's-shoulder moments before she got used to it enough not to cry.

Daddy and I, of course, were laughing almost as hard as she was crying.

Meanwhile, the new 'Noman toy is a big hit. He was wearing the new 'Noman slippers as soon as she realized what they were. She thought that was just the cat's meow - the Noman was wearing Noman slippers! She was also quite pleased with the set of blocks and the number/animal puzzles. She hasn't figured out the alphabet magnets yet, because we haven't taken them out of the package yet. I'm thinking the dishwasher is a good place for those. As for the two outfits - what toddler cares about clothes? But I'm quite happy with them. I think the 2T is still too big, but too big is better than too small. I can roll them up, and I think the pants all have drawstrings. Her Aunty Lan will be thrilled that I bought her not one, but two little mauve hoodies!

Yes, sassy_fae, she loved the little people in the megablocks set. She wanted to start sticking the stickers on everything she could reach, but I took them off her and distracted her by putting the Noman slippers, wonder of wonders, on HER FEET. That was an amazing occurence. We'll get the castle set up for her at some point today.

More gifts will wait until this evening, probably, when summerfields at last arrive in Hamilton. Turkey, Christmas pudding, and presents will follow. Uncle Craig will get a soft seat on the couch to rest that just-healing knee of his. If he ends up with a toddler in his lap as a result, I don't think he'll mind. :)

Merry Christmas everyone!

I remember. . .

Stories of Other Christmases

I remember the year, exactly twenty years ago, when I received a copy of Anne of Green Gables from my grandmother. I was nine. It was in a big box from Sears that had a lovely new spring dress in it, destined for Easter Sunday. My family depended on Christmas largesse to keep us all clothed through the year, and I was old enough and feminine enough to care more about the dress than about a book I'd never heard of.

Within a year, I had started the L.M. Montgomery collection that now has pride of place on a shelf in the living room, right next to Piet's Tolkein and C.S. Lewis collections.

I remember Christmas celebrations at Grandma's house. On Christmas Day, around six o'clock, the entire Burditt clan would troupe over to Grandma's for a potluck feast and oodles of presents. In attendance were: Grandma and Poppa, my mom's parents, still alive and living in the same house; Great Granny and Great Grandpa, better known to the world at large as Pops Burditt, both dead when I was a teenager; Aunt Sally and Uncle Bill, my great-great aunt and her husband (sister to Great Granny) who lived three doors down from Grandma and just around the corner from Great Grandpa and Great Granny. Since they never had kids of their own, my mother's generation were their adopted grandkids, and we always got nice gifts from them, bought(as I found out later) by my grandmother; Uncle Brian, Aunt Susan of the always-late cards, and their three kids, the middle one of whom is exactly five months older than me; Aunt Barb, Uncle Don, and their three kids, the youngest of whom is a year and four months older than me; my own family; and, as years progressed, occasional significant others of various cousins. I remember Sheri being there, though she is now happily married to someone else and carrying her third child; also Staci, who did actually marry a cousin, have a child with him, and then divorce him. It was a very big and noisy group. The other cousins all knew each other quite well, because they were growing up within walking distance of each other's houses. My family, growing up as we did all over Canada, always felt a bit left out because we didn't know the people and places they talked of. I used to dread getting underwear from my grandmother because I knew Uncle Brian would make jokes about gotchies and suggest trying them on. As we got older, one of my cousins (usually Andrew, the one my age, but sometimes his older brother Matthew) would play Christmas carols on the piano (the same piano that now graces my dining room.) Usually, people would all dig out brass instruments, and the house would shake with some of the best brass playing I've ever heard. My family is very talented in that respect. If all of them brought their instruments, there would be ten people playing; usually, as a concession to the low-ceilinged basement we were in, there would be three or four.

I remember Boxing Day at Nana's house. There were very few people there by comparison, because, though my dad came from a family of four, only two (himself and a younger brother) had kids. There was a stepdaughter and her son after a while, as well, but for the most part, it was Aunt Jeanne and Uncle Dave, of the Christmas pudding and the baby grand piano respectively; Uncle Allan and Aunt Pauline, who made the best zucchini loaf you've ever tasted, and probably still does though she doesn't do it for our family any more; Aunt Sue, Uncle Geoff, Christina and Jenny; our family; and Nana and Granddad. After Granddad died, we never went to Nana's for Christmas again. It moved around for a few years until a year or so before I got married, when various other commitments combined to make Boxing Day more difficult. This year the Page Christmas will happen at Aunt Jeanne's on Monday, and newer additions include Uncle Allan's SO, Farzanah, who calls herself Persian rather than Iranian, and probably some of her kids. It will also include some wonderful Iranian cooking. Uncle Allan has a nice hand with a chicken dish, too. Something about living with Aunt Pauline all those years taught him how to cook a l'italienne. He's very good at it.

I remember the Christmas when I was five, which we spent in Nova Scotia. Now, Nova Scotia is a three-day drive from Hamilton. We were snowed in that year, more than a metre of snow, on average, on the entire Maritimes. Grandma had planned to come, but the plans got cancelled. Fortunately, she had orchestrated the mailing of all Christmas gifts ahead of time. We had so many presents to open that we did it in shifts over three days. We also made snowmen and went tobogganning down the sidewalk outside our house, which was built near the top of a hill. Alanna, my middle sister, was not yet mobile at five months, and Jonathan was two and a half. It was a great Christmas from my perspective, but my parents were very lonely for their families. It was the first year they were too far away to drive home in a few hours, and it hit both of them quite hard.

I remember the Christmas I spent in Winnipeg, two years later (we flew home for the year in between.) That was the year the temperature dropped to -20 Celcius in November and didn't rise above that benchmark again until February - not once. (For any of you who think we have it soft now living in Southern Ontario, I really do know what a real Canadian winter is like.) My dad took the opportunity to build an ice rink in the backyard. I think our backyard on Borbank St. was quite small, but he still built it to go right to the fence on either side. All of us, even two-year-old Alanna, got skates for Christmas. While my brother and I were whizzing around happily and falling occasionally, my mother stepped out on the ice with some trepidation. It turned out to be justified. Within five minutes, she'd sprained her ankle so badly, she still feels it to this day, twenty-two years later.

Just a few holiday stories to brighten the days of those of you not doing too much today. I'll post about more recent Christmases another time.

Merry Christmas!

More anticipation

The plane has landed, according to the Toronto Airport Authority. The turkey is finishing, the white sauce is done and once more lumpless, and the sweet potato goes in when the turkey comes out.

The phone just rang. It was Opa, worried that the plane landed an hour ago but they're still not through. Anney shouldn't have any immigration issues; she's a Canadian citizen. Craig might, but they wouldn't be serious, and since he can show them a plane ticket for next week, that shouldn't be a big deal, either. It's probably just a slowdown with luggage. Though I'm wishing my Dad was working today. He works in immigration at Pearson, and he could probably help if he were there.

Turkey's out. Time to do my sweet potato. Merry Christmas!