Those among us who celebrate Christmas never forget those Christmas Eves when we were so excited about the prospects that lie ahead the next morning. The sleeplessness we fought so we could get to sleep so Christmas morning would come quicker. The noises we heard that made us sure it was Santa distributing our loot. As a child I shared a room with my sister. We had louver doors and the light from our living room lamps always managed to sneak in. On most nights this was just an annoyance, but on Christmas Eve it was PAINFUL! I didn't want to peek through those slats in the doors for fear Santa would be there, notice me, and take all my toys back to the North Pole. For some reason, probably just being a curious kid, I had to fight to keep my eyes out of those slats on Christmas Eve. Because my sister is eight years older than I am she just fell asleep, most likely thinking I was just an annoying little brat, and she was probably right. She probably also got annoyed that I would wake her up before dawn to come out with me to harvest my booty of toys.
I remember two special toys I received as a child. One with joy, one not so much. Because I have always been an animal lover my stuffed ride-on Lassie dog was my favorite gift of all time. I kept that dog for so long, until it was so matted that it was time to say goodbye. The toy that brings back only memories of my mom's frugal nature was a "generic" version of Patty Play Pal. Oh, I couldn't wait to see that life-size doll under our tree - her blonde hair gleaming, her blue eyes sparkling, her perfect dress. Patty was the first ever life size dollie and I knew I just had to have her. Imagine my shock when I opened those louver doors on Christmas morning to see a replica of said Patty Play Pal! There she stood, brown curly bubble hairdo, brown eyes, and wearing a homely frock. It seems my mom was able to find this sorry excuse for Patty Play Pal at a much reduced price. OMG! I tried to like this imposter doll, but it was just too hard. She wasn't Patty! How could my mom do this to me? My mom doesn't know how disappointed I was in that doll, and I have chosen to keep this my secret (except for sharing it with all of you, of course). My mom also doesn't know how I hated the generic version of the Go Go boots she got me, instead of the gleaming white leather ones that were all the rage in my elementary school. Those off white, fake leather ones represented horrors upon horrors to me. Oh, I wore them, once. Only once because people made fun of them. In retrospect, had I not been a spineless little wienie back them, I would have worn them anyway. Isn't it funny what we chose to let hurt us when we were younger?
Christmas for Artie and I now centers around our grandchildren. Since Lindsay and Danny are way past the childlike excitement that presents bring, it is now fun again to see our grandkids' little faces light up as they open their gifts. Landon was excited about his Geo Trax zoo train, and Annie about a doll she wanted, shouting, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" Brennan was content to play with the crumbled wrapping paper. I can only hope I never purchase something that they will write about on their blogs in years to come.
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