Christmas Blog about Mom

 

This blog is about my favorite Christmas memory about my Mom. (and Jody too) Actually, this is my ABSOLUTE  FAVORITE Christmas memory, period.

This story starts with the Sears catalog. That massive tome showed up every winter to almost every household in the late season in the eighties.  As many children did, my sister and I marked off what we wanted...whether we thought we might get them or not. 

I was ten years old, and I can't tell you what I wanted the most, because that would give it away. I CAN tell you my little sister was in on it.

My Mother shops much as I do, finding giftable treasures during the year and only presenting them at Christmas. Mom also had a habit of wrapping gifts for Christmas early. She always started after my sister's birthday, on the 21st. of November. After that, no holds barred. 

My mother put the wrapped gifts in the spare room. Jody was clearly getting Lego that year. Not that I checked or anything...I was glad my gifts weren't that obvious because I enjoy surprises. 

One showed up for me. Mom had obviously used the box from Christmas cards to house it, but that was not a real clue. Mom gave me permission to shake it. 

Actually, she said, "You can shake that box all you want--You'll never figure it out." Moo-Hoo-Ha-Ha. 

I shook the Hell out of that thing every single day. Several times a day.  There was no discernable rattle or shimmy I recognized. Something was definitely in there. It sounded like a singular thunking that only moved with me and however  vigorously I shook it. It was one piece. I have no other way to describe it, even to this day. She was right....I never would have figured it out. 

Bear in mind, this is late November when she put that brain teaser out. So I endured an entire month of torture, trying to figure out what was in the box. I shook it endlessly, hoping for some clue, yet taking  delight when none came. It was delicious. It Drove. Me. BATSHIT.

So delicious, in fact, that I wanted to open it last. Mom said no. "If you don't open it first, your sister's gift won't make any sense." So I opened that box first, with the family watching. 

It was a piece of cardboard, and I was confused until I turned it over and discovered poinsettias painted in the corners. In my mother's printing were these words: (I am paraphrasing.) 

"This entitles the bearer, Donna (redacted) permission to have her ears pierced, to be paid for, by her parents, as soon as she is ready."

BEST GIFT EVER!!  

Jody's gift was six pairs of stud earrings I coveted from the first few pages of the Sears catalog. Also the best gift ever.  I can't remember every pair, but there were red roses, gold globes, gold seagulls, and my favorites, white porcelain ovals with yellow roses on them. I think there were a set of pearl-like earrings too. What am I missing? 

Oh, what a great Christmas for a ten year old! There was NOTHING I wanted more that year than to get my ears pierced and to own those earrings. The original plan was that I wait until I was eighteen to pierce my ears, but not anymore! I adored those earrings and I kept that homemade certificate for years. I'll never forget it. That one-two punch is my favorite Christmas memory to this day. Thanks Mom and thank YOU Jody for talking her into it. 

I still get a tingle of joy when I think of it.  

That's Not Love You Smell in the Air.

I almost forgot it's Valentine's Day tomorrow. Which is odd, because I have very specific plans for my beloved troll. Which I can't divulge here because he's on Twitter and he reads this blog.

I think the reason it slips my mind sometimes, is because I remember loathing that day a lot. More often than not, I was single, for many years.

And love is such a wacky thing too. Nothing else can make you so desperately unhappy or so absurdly joyful. And sometimes it's BOTH and it's the scariest thing ever.

I'm happy now...but it wasn't always that way. I remember being 19 years old, and I was in love with a man who loved me, but not enough to stay faithful. I believed I was going to marry him. He believed he should see other people, besides me. I was stupid and naive and I worked hard to change his mind. Yes, I stayed with a cheater...a BLATANT cheater.

I remember the day I made the decision to leave. I came home early from the graveyard shift and found a pair of women's shoes that weren't mine. Instead of confronting the boyfriend and his new girlfriend, I went for a very long walk and wrote a poem, which I'm going to share.

For those of you who are alone and lonely or heartbroken...This is for you.

MOURNING

I am alone with morning,
No one for miles but the silence and me.
I long for someone to share it with,
I am alone, but I am free.

The cold chill embraces me,
The wind kisses away my tears,
And I think of home.
I am free, I am alone.

The morning sun,
The blue sky,
A marriage of this beautiful perfection,
I'm so alone in awful freedom,

But the morning offers me protection.

Fast forward 4 years later...I'm sitting in the lounge after working as a pizza cook, talking to my friends who work as barmaids. A ridiculously handsome man sits beside me and strikes up a conversation. Or at least he tries to. We have nothing in common it seems. My favorite pick-up lines, which show off the fact that I can speak 'hockey' falls flat. He hates hockey. (In Canada, a woman who understands what a GAA means and who has the best one will NEVER lack for company or drinks in the bar. For the record, it was Domink Hasek at the time with a 1.95)

So for lack of a better subject, I mention that I entered a CBC poetry contest. Turns out he LOVES poetry, and wants to hear my favorite one that I wrote. I recited the one you just read, telling him the title is about grief and the poem is about coming to terms with a painful decision. He asks for a copy, and we get along much better after that. SO WELL, in fact, that I decide this man is my next boyfriend.

A week later, I not only give him a copy of 'Mourning', but I also wrote something called "If", It described my  feelings for him and asked him "If I fall in love with you...Will you catch me?" That was September 13th, 1997, and our first kiss.

Love is weird. Who knew that a poem about a nasty breakup would bring me a husband? The moral of the story is...Love Stinks, yeah, yeah. But there's always hope, because Love Lurks. In the oddest of places and it will find you, in the oddest ways.

Happy Valentine's Day. It won't always be terrible.