Traditions. The little things that matter more than you realize.
Growing up in family that didn’t have any, traditions are not something I really thought about. Sure, when I was in high school my mom started the short lived (about three years) custom of attaching the cutest little teddy bear or penguin ornament to our presents every Christmas. It was a short lived though as my sister and I left home and mom moved to a different state all within a year of each other.
Still, it’s a fond memory I have. So much so when my life settled down…ish…at oh 36…I decided to resurrect the Christmas ornament tradition. I was finally living stateside in my own home without the prospect of moving anytime soon for once. I doubt my kids appreciated the revived tradition at the time but I know they enjoyed it. Little did I know what the next three years would bring: trials, tribulation and a divorce. The holiday custom, however, continued uninterrupted along with a new tradition, beaded stockings. I wish I had taken pictures of them as it was a project I really had fun working on and one my kids still use today.
Fast forward to 2011 which was quite the year. OMG what a year. Ups, downs, sideways and way too often WTH. By the end of it though (and some days I wonder how I survived with my sanity in tact) once again my life was smoothing out and on the upswing. Among other things, I was in the best romantic relationship I have ever had (and still am). Dave, however, did not enter my life alone. He brought with him two adorable little girls and a sweet, yet feisty teenage son who was only one year younger than my own. And now there’s only one real teenager left and as the other four of our children are adults. Where does the time go?
The Christmas of 2011, like the rest of the year was just so interesting for many reasons – some petty, some funny and some that just made you sigh heavily. I decided to brighten up what was becoming a rather intense holiday a bit by including Dave and his kids in my yearly ornament tradition. Suddenly two ornaments became seven (for once my partner and I were included instead of just the kids) and little did I realize, the tradition became solidified. As the years have past that number has grown to include our children’s significant others and and our grandchildren. We’re now at finding and giving out twelve a year. Naturally, the stocking tradition has continued as well. It’s really cool because the oldest daughter wants to make the ones for her family instead of having me do it.
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Seven Christmases have past for Dave and I at this point. Every year we choose ornaments for the kids, something that represents them or an important moment in the year, while we buy each other’s. This year we were on the same wavelength more than usual. He chose a Bastet for me and I picked a black panther for him.
I must confess that while it’s been an enjoyable family tradition for me since I rekindled it, on occasion tradition can feel heavy. The last two years have found me struggling with the holiday season in general. Not like having the full on blues yet not as peppy as I usually am. In an ironic twist of fate, Dave, who used to battle with the holiday blues now embraces the season and keeps me going when my spirits start to wane.
Early in December, for example, I mentioned to Dave I wasn’t sure if I really wanted to buy ornaments this year. He promptly told me he had already bought mine so…no guilt there. I also talked (whined?) with the oldest daughter and was told I couldn’t skip the tradition because there would be too many disappointed children (herself included)…again, no guilt there. Therefore, ornament shopping we went because I can’t handle sad and disappointed faces. She wasn’t wrong though. I watched as the middle daughter kept checking out the tree and dropping not so subtle hints questioning what her ornament would be (we didn’t get the presents under the tree until the week before Christmas). I saw faces light up for the kids and grandkids we were able to open presents with as well when they plucked their new ornaments from their gifts. That pretty much told me I needed to keep the tradition alive, no breaks. It also made me feel good.
It’s such a small thing, but a small thing the kids count on happening.
Tradition it seems, does matter.
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