Saying Goodbye To Old Times

Tags

Alzheimer's, Christmas, family, home, Nova Scotia, time, traditions

Our Christmas home in Nova Scotia felt sort of… final, to me, this year.

We plan to spend next Christmas here in BC because it is expensive to travel during the holidays, and it makes a stressful time just that much more stressful. Our next trip to Nova Scotia will probably be during the summer when more people will be free to get together with us, and travel is safer and cheaper.

Although the snow was certainly a thrilling novelty to Owl.

My father’s Alzheimer’s is slowly progressing. He still knows who everyone is, and what is going on, but he is frail, and quiet, and easily confused. My mother has to help him shower, get dressed, and she puts him down to bed for naps and at bed time like a child.

But he’s still Dad.

If and when we spend another Christmas in Nova Scotia, the person that I know as my father may have faded away entirely.

Christmas was always a big deal in our house. Both my parents love Christmas, and we used to have all sorts of traditions built up around it. The annual tree decorating was so idyllic that my high school friends used to attend it too, because it was just such a Christmassy THING.

But many of the traditions have fallen by the wayside one by one what with my commitments to Perfect Husband’s family, and my father’s illness, and the fact simply that time is moving on and things change.

We did still decorate the tree this year. Mum needed PH to help bring the tree in and get it set up. The last time we were home, Dad could still do that. He still sat and watched us decorate while he sipped egg nog, but once upon a time he would have been the one pouring the drinks and sloshing too much rum into everyone’s nog.

The decorators this year were mostly Mum and Owl, with me alternately helping, taking photos, and watching the baby. It was the same, but not the same, at the same time.

If that makes sense.

Meanwhile, the Christmas Eve traditions on PH’s side of the family are going to be changing soon, too. Their Christmas Eve family gathering had the same food, the same schedule, but less exuberance. My nieces and nephews are older now. The next youngest to Owl is already ten years old, and most of them are young adults in university and beyond.

Our kids were definitely the hit of the show.

We got a family photo of all of the “kids”, including Fritter, on the front steps. We don’t know when another group photo will be able to be taken as the grown “kids” start moving away and living their own lives.

I’m really glad we made it home this Christmas, because I felt like I was getting a chance to say goodbye to these old traditions and accept that things are changing.

Owl got to experience and explore these “old times”, and I got to make my peace with their passing.

And these changes don’t have to feel bad. But they will be different.

Maybe that is okay. Maybe it is time for us to build our own traditions, here, at home.

Another Chance At Christmas

Tags

Christmas, holidays, life

So far, this has been the best Christmas in years, and it isn’t even really Christmas yet.

I started celebrating early, since we’re going to spend a good two week chunk of time over Christmas and New Year in Nova Scotia, and there didn’t seem any point to decorating a week before we left. So I decorated in November.

  
We violated an old rule of ours and got an artificial tree so that when we went to Nova Scotia we wouldn’t be leaving behind a fire hazard. We aren’t proud of it, but it’s a pretty little tree and how else can you get a Christmas tree in November?

I also started our advent calendars early, counting down to departure instead of Christmas Eve. I took Owl to story time with Mrs Claus and a gingerbread house party.

  
Perfect Husband has shown frequent glimmers of his old self and has been helping me make lists of things to do, putting together Christmas music playlists, and generally being PRESENT in the household.

It makes a huge difference.

The last couple of Christmases have felt half-assed and lackluster. My miscarriage baby was due in December, so the Christmas that she (she was always a she in my thoughts) would have been due was particularly gloomy. All I managed that year was a single Charlie Brown Christmas Tree on the table.

I vaguely hoped that people would think I was taking the message of Charlie Brown Christmas at face value and refusing all other decorations out of principle. At least that sad little tree reminded me that Christmas was not about glitz.

Last Christmas was a little better – at least I was pregnant! – but due to stress/pregnancy/anxiety I couldn’t handle basically anything. It also felt horribly ironic because I had always wanted to be pregnant at Christmas – I had imagined lounging with my feet up while adoring relations laid footie pyjamas over my belly and complimented my glow – but instead I was overworked, sick, and we couldn’t afford to go home so it was just the three of us.

PH ended up pushing himself way too hard to help out and I partially blame that for his crash in January.

I sort of feel like the last year didn’t really happen. It’s hard to believe that it is Christmas time again, because we actually haven’t finished cleaning up after last Christmas.

You see, when PH crashed, a lot of things went on hold. One of those was putting away Christmas stuff. And by the time things were looking up again, that Christmas stuff had stopped looking like Christmas stuff, and just started looking like part of the normal background of our lives. It felt strange to put Christmas stuff away in July, so it just sort of stayed.

  
Like the Christmas village, which has been boxed, but sitting under the side table in the living room for a year now. We didn’t set it up this year because we’re going to be away so it seemed like too much effort.

  
Or Beloved Dog’s “12 Days of Dog Christmas” quilt, which has now basically just become a regular blankie that has sat on his memory foam dog bed for 12 months now. I wonder if he would get upset if I took it away, now? I mean, look how he snuggles with it.

  

Or this Christmas angel, which has sat on the shelf for the last year without anyone really noticing it.

  
And when we needed the tinsel for the tree, we knew exactly where it was – on the DVD shelf where it has been for the last year.

Hey, I mean, it probably saved us valuable seconds in decorating for Christmas this year. The house came predecorated! Like how my parents just leave their Christmas lights up all year round and only start plugging them in again on December 1st each year.

It’s nice, really, to think that Christmas keeps coming around. And if one, or two, or eight don’t go as well as I would like, well, it’ll be back again before I even get around to putting away that dog-cuddling wooden angel thing.

And like I say, this Christmas is on the upswing. I think I’ll mark this year over-all a win. Especially since I finally have my Christmas baby.

  

The Gift of a Magi

Tags

betta fish, Christmas, pets, presents

This was the second Christmas we have spent at home, away from family. The first time was really difficult for me. This time was easier. We had done it before and we’re slowly working out our own traditions. For example, we had to have a big discussion about how Santa would deliver his presents.

As I’m sure you know, Santa doesn’t have a set technique. He tailors his deliver methods (and even delivery dates) according to the traditions of the local country and microtraditions of the family. In PH’s family, stocking stuffers were just… extras. The REAL presents, the big ones that had been requested in letters, were wrapped by Santa’s elves and put under the tree. In my family, on the other hand, everything was unwrapped, assembled, and sitting in or around the stocking.

After much discussion and some compromise, we asked Santa to wrap anything particularly asked for that was too big to fit inside the stocking. That was made easy by the fact that Owl only asked for two things this year – a crokinole board and a bow and arrow set.

So Owl got his gifts from Santa, as well as many gifts from doting relations, and it was a nice Christmas.

I wasn’t all that excited for Christmas this year, because there wasn’t much I wanted or expected. The only thing I really wanted (other than a book that was sold out) was something that PH had long vetoed – another pet.

I’m an animal lover. If I had my way we would own two dogs, the cat, a bird, a rodent of some kind, a tropical saltwater tank complete with coral, and a couple of farm animals. Unfortunately, time, money, space, and PH interfere with that.

PH is not a fan of buying pets that are going to die on you within a year or two of purchase. Nor is he a fan of taking up space in our already-cluttered 1000 square foot townhouse. I get all of that, but I haven’t had a new pet in eight years and I was itching for someone new.

So I asked for a fish for Christmas, and was told “absolutely not.” Not only does PH fail to see the charm of fish, but he didn’t think we have space, and no matter how much I pointed out that a 5 gallon fish tank would take up no more room than one of the MANY boxes of collectables he has sitting around awaiting sale, he held firm.

It got to the point that a friend of mine, who also loves animals, was starting to threaten to buy me a fish no matter what, and I worried that if she did, that PH would be mad.

But then guess what I pulled out from under the tree on Christmas morning, not from Santa but from PH himself?

A fish tank. And a heater. And a filter. And gravel. And decorations.

So on Boxing Day I dragged my family out to get a fish, and live plants. I spent nearly half an hour hanging over betta fish, trying to pick just the right one. PH preferred the blue ones, so I focused on those. I was torn between two – a pale blue one who was definitely the perkiest of the lot, and another one with a beautiful aqua glimmer that I loved. But this lovely one, whose scales had a gleam that reminded me of the Caribbean sea, spent most of his time at the bottom of his tiny cup, coming up to the surface only to breathe.

PH agreed with me that he was prettier, if more listless.

“I think he’s still healthy,” I said, scrutinizing him. “His colors are bright, and there’s no spots on him… and he DOES move around…”

“Take him then. If he’s not very active, oh well,” said PH.

So I bought him, and the live plants, and then I happily spent several hours setting up his tank on my book shelf. Then I floated his cup for a night, slowly adding more tank water to his sad little cup and measuring the pH occasionally. His tiny cup water was so full of ammonia that it was really acidic.

“Can’t you just put him in?” PH asked, “look at him, poor guy.”

The fish was showing much more animation than at the store, bonking his head on the side of the cup, trying to get to the watery paradise he could see around him. Even Perfect Husband, who doesn’t see the appeal of fish, could practically hear him yelling “LET ME OUT!”

But I was afraid to let him out. The pH of the two waters was so different, and a sudden pH change can kill a fish, even a hardy betta fish.

So I added some more tank water to his cup and by the next morning the pH was better. So I put him in the tank.

Oh, man, you never saw a fish so happy. Our previously listless fish is listless no more.

He spent the whole day zipping around like a mad thing, obviously revelling in his freedom. It was adorable.

We’ve named him Melchior, after one of the three wise men. My Christmas gift.

He was a great gift, and it was a good Christmas.

Oh Sears, You Bastion of Traditional Sexism, You.

Tags

catalog, catalogue, Christmas, gender, gendered toys, pink, sears, sexism, toys

Catalogues have been known for over a century as a great way to entertain children. Owl will sit quietly for long stretches as he flips through Sears’ Toy Shop Christmas Catalogue.

He may love it, but Perfect Husband looked over Owl’s shoulder one day and was horrified.

The Sears Christmas Catalogue is supposed to catalogue toys, but it also catalogues gender stereotypes, to the point where you wonder whether this is supposed to be tongue in cheek.

Surely nothing in this day and age could be un-ironically THIS sexist?

A quick flip through the catalogue shows boys playing with cars and dinosaurs and boxing bags and discovering amazing science, while girls wearing pink hold dolls and use knitting machines and quietly paint, while totally ignoring entire shelves full of awesome cars and tools they could be playing with.

When they do touch something that could potentially be interpreted as masculine, such as a bow and arrow or a car, they are interacting with a pink version of it, because obviously things need to be pink for girls to play with them.

But it goes deeper than that.

Even the way that they are STAGED with the toys reeks of 1950’s style sexism. Like, to the point where you have to wonder if they’re being serious.

Even If It Doesn’t Fit The Modern Spirit

Tags

Charlie Brown Tree, Christmas, Commercialism, Decoration, depression, Ornaments, Wish Lists

Despite my lack of Christmas Spirit, there is one thing I did this year that I am please about, decorating-wise.

Word got around my workplace that London Drugs was selling a full size replica of the iconic Charlie Brown Christmas Tree for a very affordable price.

So one day, after picking Owl up from school, I swung by London Drugs.

“Sorry I’m late, I wanted to buy an artificial tree,” I said.

PH squinted at me. He’s met me, and he knows how violently against artificial trees I am.

“I don’t BELIEVE you,” he said.

“No, really!” I held out the box.

PH looked at it for a moment.

“I accept this,” he said simply. “How much did you have to pay?”

“Fifteen bucks.”

“…really?”

“Yup.”

“I accept this.”

It has the place of honour on our dining room table.

Yes, I am aware of the irony of BUYING a REPLICA of something which represents the rejection of commercialization in Christmas in general, and artificial trees in particular.

But you know what? It’s FRIGGING ADORABLE.

It reminds me of PH and me. Weighed down, but still standing, still good. We just need a little love and care.

And every time I look at it, I am reminded of what Christmas is really all about.

My house is messy, and undecorated, and I haven’t sent any cards.

But you know what?

My son asked for a candy cane, a tea set, and Hungry Hungry Hippos for Christmas. That’s it. That’s all he wanted (well, and something else called “the game with the dots that go down the hole”* but we’ll never figure that one out). And honestly, I think the only thing he had his heart set on is the candy cane.

It could be worse.

Christmas doesn’t come from a store.

…So the beautiful decorations on Pinterest can go f*&# themselves.

*ETA: he asked for the same thing the next year. We asked him to show it to us. It was a crokinole board.

You’re A Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Tags

Christmas, depression, grinch

No, I’m not referring to a particular person.

The Grinch is a state of mind.

The Grinch is when you’re standing with your feet wet in the snow, looking at the other people having fun and enjoying Christmas, and wonder why you’re all by yourself in a cave.

I am a Chrismassy person.

Every year since I was a teenager I have adorned my room with Christmas lights, re-read A Christmas Carol, played Christmas songs in the evenings, and generally revelled in the season.

But the last couple of years, I’ve had trouble getting into the act.

Last year was understandable. We couldn’t go home for Christmas, and were left making our own traditions. Things felt strange. My concept of “Christmas” was upheaved.

But if I thought that the Christmas Spirit was a little lacking last year, it was a Christmas WONDERLAND compared to this year.

I haven’t send any Christmas Cards.

I haven’t BOUGHT any Christmas Cards.

There are lights up in the kitchen, but not in the living room.

We don’t have a tree.

The sad thing is, we’re trying.

We got Owl to write a letter to Santa, but we haven’t talked about taking him to sit on Santa’s lap.

I went out and bought new ornaments for the tree, but we haven’t actually made any plans to actually GET a tree.

PH put Christmas music on for me one night.

And I nearly cried.

We just aren’t feeling it, this year.

Not only was I expecting to be holding a tiny baby by now, but Christmas has always been deeply associated with babies and motherhood for me.

So while I love Christmas, whenever I start to feel too Christmassy, I also start to feel more deprived, more aware of my loss.

PH, on the other hand, is beginning to panic because he’s watching his wife crack up and he’s too depressed to handle it. He insisted that I go back on my Welbutrin (even though I think my depression is far more situational than seasonal) and then recklessly went OFF of his, thinking that maybe his meds were to blame for the fact that I have not yet conceived.

I thought that was a bad idea, and I’m convinced the problem is with me – I’m getting older, I had that D&C…

But PH wanted to try, so he went off his meds, and it is not going well.

It’s hard to feel Christmassy when you’re feeling stressed, and grieving, and your husband is in such deep pain that he radiates anguish, for all he tries so hard to hide it.

At least Owl is too young to know what he’s missing. But he’s had trouble getting into the spirit too.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m decorating for Christmas, honey.”

“It’s not Christmas.”

“It’s Christmastime, honey.”

“No. Dere’s no SNOW out!”

I thought snow would help the Christmas Spirit a lot for all of us. But when it came this week, I enjoyed the prettiness, but Christmas still didn’t touch my heart.

My hope is that when I’m sitting on my parents’ couch, looking at the tree and listening to Karen Carpenter, that the Spirit will find me, and that Christmas will come to me like it did to the Whos down in Whoville.

And I won’t cry “booo hoooo.”

How Do You Explain Snail Mail To The iGeneration?

Tags

Christmas, cute, kids say the darndest things, three year old

“Soon, buddy, you’ll write a letter to Santa, and tell him what you want for Christmas.”

“A letter? For Santa?”

“Yes! What are you going to write?”

“I’m gonna write him a T! No… no… an A!”

*moment of baffled silence*

“Oh, no, buddy, not THAT kind of letter…”

New Traditions

Tags

board games, Christmas, elmo, family, gifts, ham, Jane Eyre, Munchkin quest, RC helicopter, sony, tradition, turkey

I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas.

Mine was… strange.

I mean, it was good, but it was weird. It was the first time, ever, that I celebrated Christmas without my parents and our set traditions. Instead, Perfect Husband and I had to compromise to make our own.

Perfect Husband’s family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve. Santa comes early for them, while the kids are out on a drive, looking at Christmas lights. They have a big feast of ham and pot luck goodies.

My family has always done Christmas more traditionally. We go to church Christmas Eve, open presents Christmas Day, and have a turkey dinner that night.

So Perfect Husband and I had to work things out.

We agreed to open gifts from family/each other Christmas Eve, but that Santa would still come overnight so Owl could open his stocking Christmas morning. That worked out ok.

Perfect Husband got his ham, since I got turkey at Thanksgiving this year. I’m not sure how this quite works, though. He’ll get ham again at Easter (to me, ham is Easter food), so does that mean I have to do ham a third time next Thanksgiving before I get my next turkey dinner? Unsure at this point.

I did my sweet potato casserole, one of my favourite Christmas/Thanksgiving dishes, and Christmas Eve I made tortiere, my own family’s Christmas Eve meal.

So it was weird for both of us – PH because we were eating tortiere on Christmas Eve instead of ham, and me because we were eating ham on Christmas Day, instead of turkey.

We Skyped with my parents so they could watch Owl opening his stocking this morning, and that was nice.

And I got awesome gifts – Perfect Husband got me nerdy T-shirts, including an Anxiety Girl shirt, a geeky board game (Munchkin Quest, which we played this evening and is awesome), a promise of a video card once boxing day sales kick in, and I got a new video camera which I have been needing for a while (my friend and I have been toying with the idea of making dog training instructional videos, but not with my low-def 2007 model handycam!). This is a Sony PJ260V and is entirely awesome and has a PROJECTOR on it. So you’ll be getting some HD videos posted soon.

I was deeply relieved to learn that a gift he had ominously referred to as my “Fifty Shades of Grey Gift” was actually a toy helicopter – something I have always wanted – and nothing scary for the bedroom.

He also gave me (get this, The Squeee!) an 1858 edition of Jane Eyre, which he had professionally restored. It’s beautiful. I want to run my hands over it and keep it in my pocket but I’ve been keeping it up on a high shelf instead, well away from inquisitive toddlers!

And Owl, well, he got TOO MUCH STUFF!

Puzzles, books, stuffed animals, clothes, undies, noisy electronics… I think the cake was taken by our Daycare Lady, who apparently got him (and every other boy in the daycare) one of those Let’s Rock Elmos, which is both adorable AND creepy. I need to post a video of that soon because Owl was just AGOG.

Our favourite of our own gifts to him (which were minimal and actively reduced when we saw the influx arriving from relatives) was a $10 box of plastic foods, which pretty much deserves its own post, accompanied by cute HD video so stay tuned for that.

He fell asleep clutching the shark slippers my sister in law sent him.

We also exposed Owl to The Grinch (which he loved), Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer (which bored him) and A Muppet Family Christmas (the unexpurgated version, which PH had transferred to DVD from a VHS tape six years ago), which held him entranced.

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I have a feeling I’ll keep forgetting that Christmas happened, since this was such a departure from all my previous Christmases. It felt like a wonderful day, but not like Christmas per se. It didn’t smell like Christmas, or taste like Christmas, because there was no turkey or gravy. It wasn’t at my parents’ house where Christmas always takes place. We opened gifts Christmas Eve instead of reflecting on the Christmas Story. It didn’t feel right.

I’m sure it felt just as weird to PH. But this is how new traditions start, I guess, with departures from the old. Maybe some day Owl will complain when things don’t match what today was like, because that will be Christmas for him.

I also haven’t been filled with that Christmas peace that I have had in the past, probably due to disruption of traditions and my work schedule interfering with my Christmas spirit. It’s hard to get in the mood when you’re working even on Christmas Eve, instead of on a mini-vacation back home, you know?

But I have no complaints. There will be many more Christmases, with turkey and grandparents, and midnight mass, and next year Owl will understand about Santa, which will be fun. We kept telling him Santa brought him his stocking stuff and he kept saying “No, Daddy did it!”

And I have a second edition of Jane Eyre, man.

No complaints at all.

I Need More “Merry” Before Christmas.

Tags

anxiety, Christmas, depressing, depression

Sorry for the long radio silence.

I’ve been waiting for something to happen that ISN’T depressing.

We’re all upset about Newtown, although a part of me asks why, in a world where 30,000 children die from hunger and disease every day, this particular twenty hits us all so hard.

Mike Graston’s image, as published in the Windsor Star

Maybe it’s just the unforgiving truth that we assume that we are safe.

Our children are fed, clothed, and vaccinated. Our plastics are BPA free. We use car seats and booster seats, we monitor their play around the clock. We assume our children are safe, and when that belief is shattered, we take it very hard.

In any case, I feel like Newtown started this cascade of bad events. Everyone on my Facebook feed seems depressed. Bad things are happening.

My work has had a run of tragic losses – I rushed a long time patient into the back when his owner presented him for a routine procedure and I took one look at him and realized he was dying, which he did anyway despite oxygen and CPR.

Then I had to drive up a snow covered mountain to recover a dead puppy from a Vancouverite who was too scared of driving in snow to bring him in when he was hit by a car. I won’t talk about it any further, not because I don’t want to talk about it – in fact, I do, in vituperative and graphic detail, to anyone who will listen (much like the Ancient Mariner), but it’s far too depressing a story for me to inflict on you. Suffice to say that the blood stains on my passenger seat still bum me out when I get into the car.

A realtor came to look our place over and give us a valuation (just in case) and politely told me that our house is a dump and would go for about $20,000 less than similar units selling in our complex. Because it’s a dump.

You mean this isn’t desirable?

I’m beginning to sympathize with Aunt Josephine from A Series Of Unfortunate Events.

We went across the border to get some mail, and got pulled aside at the border over a misunderstanding, which resulted not only in a long wait with a child who was past his nap time, but us having to pay tax on duty free liquor (yup).

Owl got sick the day before my work’s Christmas party, which resulted in our friends not wanting to babysit him lest he get their baby sick. My awesome neighbour did dig up a potential babysitter for us, but we just didn’t have babysitter money in our Christmas budget so we brought him to the fancy dinner. He was a hit, but PH had to go home early with him, thus missing out on the theatre show – even though my boss had already paid for the ticket.

PH isn’t having a great time either. He just found out that a former coworker who he finally escaped from when he changed locations last year is going to be his coworker again – someone who used to make his life hell.

I came downstairs this morning to find that PH had rearranged Owl’s alphabet magnets creatively.

That about sums it up

I still haven’t mailed all of my Christmas parcels. Hell, I haven’t even finished my Christmas shopping.

I’m sleepy all the time. I think it’s the long, dark nights and short, dark days.

I took a Wellbutrin this morning.

Focusing on the positive:

Monday’s Canada’s Worst Driver showed gay man love, and that made us happy. You don’t see enough of that on reality television.

Owl seems to be recovering quickly from his cold.

When the realtor walked into Owl’s room, she brightened up and said, “oh, THIS is nice!” in a surprised tone of voice.

And it really is.

My much-coveted cape coat arrived in time for my work’s Christmas party, a gift from my mother.

I’m getting a fancy new video camera with my Christmas bonus money from my dog training business, which I can use to make training videos and possible become rich and famous. Or just use to make more Owl videos.

Best of all, I was voted Employee Of The Year at work! How’s that a turn around from almost a year ago?

(as an amusing side note, I also found this post from around this time last December, so things are definitely looking up)

Being Employee of the Year is not only a huge morale booster, it’s a $1,000 prize which must go towards a trip of some kind. PH had been talking about taking Owl and I to Disneyland, but I was wavering because of the cost. PROBLEM SOLVED.

…Except that an hour after PH booked it, the friends who were supposed to be going with us to share a room with us (cutting costs) and taking Owl off of our hands ended up having to back out – problems with the husband’s work schedule. So that’s a new problem.

Right. POSITIVE.

The problem with being me is that rather than bask in the “I must be awesome” glow of being Employee of the Year, I am instead plagued with thoughts like this:

“You don’t deserve that, you haven’t worked nearly hard enough.”

“Everyone must be pissed at you for winning, because THEY wanted the $1,000 prize.”

“Now, if you don’t work even harder, people are going to regret voting for you.”

“No one complimented your dress at the work party. They probably thought that you were slovenly and awful and have lost all respect for you.”

“Your dress slipped when you hugged Dr Hank Azaria, exposing your bra. Now everyone thinks you’re a ho.” 

And other such cheerful thoughts.

Did I mention I took a Wellbutrin?

I’ll Be Home For Christmas… Next Year?

Tags

Christmas, distance, family, traditions, travel

We aren’t going home for Christmas this year.

Not only is it expensive to do every year, but PH couldn’t get Christmas Eve off of work, and since that’s when his family celebrates, it would be $4,000 for him to miss Christmas anyway.

So we aren’t going, even though I’m an only child and my parents will be spending Christmas alone together for the first time in 30 years. Even though PH’s brother just moved back to Nova Scotia, so it would be the first time his entire family would be together in one room since our wedding, and the first Christmas entirely together in… who knows how many years.

We aren’t going, even though my parents have decided that they can’t come here, either, which is what they did in 2008 when we were recovering from the costs of our honeymoon.

My Dad’s health is pretty good overall, considering his age and considering the fact that his two older siblings both died of cancer in the last five years. But he’s not up for travelling long distances any more. It’s too much hassle and he would rather spend a quiet Christmas at home. Even if Owl and I aren’t there.

My mother is depressed about it. Dad thinks it’s time that PH and I developed our own family traditions, had a private Christmas together, but my Mum would say “Eff that!” and come in a heartbeat if she didn’t think that leaving Dad and the diabetic cat alone for Christmas was probably wrong.

I’m… ok.

It’s hard to explain to someone with siblings how close-knit your family unit is when you are an only child. A friend of mine from Toronto happened to be in Vancouver one day so we went to lunch and we ended up talking about it – when you’re an only child, Christmases are quiet and intimate.

People talk about obligatory family spats and awkward moments at Christmas. My ex used to call me in tears on Christmas Day, after his traditional fight with his mother. In blog posts I hear people talk about a family disagreement as if it is as much a part of Christmas as cranberry sauce.

Yeah, I don’t know what that’s about. We have never had a Christmas argument in the history of ever.

In fact, my family’s Christmases are so idyllic that our yearly tree trimming always attracted a few of friends, who enjoyed watching the fire, sipping my Dad’s heavy-handed egg nog, and decorating our tree while Karen Carpenter sang about sleighs and snow.

For the next two weeks my parents would spend every evening sitting by the fire, listening to music, sipping wine and occasionally sighing “what a pretty tree!”

Christmas Eve we would go to the midnight mass and sing Silent Night by candlelight, and then my parents would send me to bed and Santa would come.

Yes, that’s right, long after I achieved adulthood my parents continued to do the Santa thing, because I was still in the place of the child.

Only last year did things begin to change. We got Owl to bed and I participated in stocking stuffing.

This year my parents will just have each other, and since my mother stuffs both sets of stockings, I know she’s going to be bummed right out.

It will be easier on me – I’ll have Owl to think about, and really children are what make Christmas fun.

He’s discovering Christmas, and I love it.

“Yook! Wismus yights!”

“Yook! Wismus tree!”

“Yook! A man a beard. Santa.”

He still doesn’t really understand, though, so we’ll be talking him through Christmas the way we did last year. He understands presents, that’s for sure.

We’re planning a Skype session – maybe if I set up my netbook or my itouch in the right spot, my parents (and maybe even PH’s parents) can watch Owl opening his gifts.

I suspect that won’t be quite the same, though.

Hopefully next year, we’ll be having a White Christmas again.