Christmas is my favorite holiday of the year.  I start celebrating, so to speak, the day after Thanksgiving.  If my husband only knew how many times I’ve sang Charles’ Brown’s song Please Come Home for Christmas.  I love that song, especially the first four words, “Bells will be ringing….” which I sing over and over and for some reason and continue to find amusing. : )

Growing up in Philadelphia, where people can be gruff, Christmas and New Year’s Day was a time when people were noticeably nicer to one another. There was a positive energy in the air and a feeling of connection with strangers you wouldn’t have noticed a month prior. As I’ve gotten older, angrier, and more skeptical, the spirit of Christmas hasn’t left me (yet). I tear up when I see A Christmas Carol, or It’s a Wonderful Life.  I’m a romantic about Christmas. I’m not a romantic about too many things in my life.

My favorite Christmas was one in the mid eighties- 1984 or 1985. My parents took me to downtown Philadelphia to do some Christmas shopping. It was my first time being in downtown Philly during Christmas. We bought Christmas ornaments. We bought tinsel. We bought… a stand for a Christmas tree. We bought other Christmas-y things that I don’t remember now. We carried bags, plural. I felt rich because we bought more than we ever had before for Christmas. There were many people in the malls and on the street carrying shopping bags. It was crowded. There were lines for everything, but everyone was in a good mood. As a nine or ten year old, I was elated. It was a natural high, like a scene from a Christmas Carol, not the gruff “get out of my way” and “watch your purse” vibe that was more typical of the city.

So that was my favorite Christmas. I don’t need to match it. I don’t need each year to be “the best ever.” I am, however, disappointed with what is happening in our nuclear family with regard to one important Christmas tradition.

For the second year in a row, we did not open our presents on Christmas. On Christmas day, we went to Pete’s sister’s home. She invited us to her home at 1 pm, and we arrived with time to spare (finally!). Being the late birds that we are, rolling out of bed at 10 am, we didn’t have time to open our presents Christmas morning and still arrive there on time. We thought we would open them in the evening, but we ended up staying there until 9 pm. By the time we got home, it was Polina’s bedtime. I didn’t want to rile her up with presents and then try to coax her to sleep. That could very well have been impossible.

The story would end here if we opened them the next day like we planned, or the following day, or December 28, 29, 30, 31…. Nope. We opened our presents… January 4^th.  

 It was no longer funny. Ironically, it was turning into a comedy of errors. I wanted to open them one day but Pete wasn’t ready. Pete wanted to open them but Polina was in a bad mood, or it was time for nap nap, or night night, or we were busy with preparing a meal, or other banal stuff that life is made of. “Like sand through the hour glass, so our the days of our lives.” End result- we didn’t find time for what happens to be my favorite holiday of the year.

Last year we didn’t open our presents until almost New Year’s. Our record this year is worse than last year’s. So I’m thinking maybe we’ll have two Christmases this year? Polina has been living/playing/running around the living room not even curious about the wrapped shapes under the tree. She treated them as if they weren’t there. She didn’t know what they were. Why would she? Are we instilling the excitement that we had as children? What kind of excitement can there be when we walk by the presents and can’t seem to find the time to open them for two weeks post Christmas?

Would it be surprising to say that when we did open the presents, we didn’t open all of them?  We didn’t even get to half of them when Polina was already occupied with the presents she opened.  I was afraid opening any more presents would lead to sensory overload, which would lead to crying and… bad pictures.  From a two year old perspective, what fun would it be to stop playing and open something else?  She hasn’t yet developed consumer fanatacism.  So we stopped and enjoyed what we had.

I appreciated that Polina gave each present her attention. I was pleased with that, and if it takes us longer to open all the presents, so be it.  There’s Orthodox Christmas. Maybe we’ll open the rest of them… tomorrow (which is what I have been saying to myself and to my husband every night for the past two weeks since Christmas.)  Aware of how late we are opening presents to begin with, we opened everyone else’s presents first.

As I make the final edits to this blog, it is the early morning of January 10^th. All Christmases are officially over. The tree has been put away.

There are still some unopened presents in the living room.

I’m thinking of opening them as 2015 progresses.

If we get to it.