Deck the Halls

Tonight I reflect on this year’s Christmas gathering for Husband’s family.

Actually it is the only extended family party we attend since my family are either dead or moved away.

Husband likes to jokingly refer to his brother as Ebenezzer, but his brother and sister-in-law often open their home for the family on Christmas night.

They are most generous.

After thirty-eight Christmas celebrations, our’s are changing much in tone and temperament.

Both Grandpa and Grandma Lutz are gone, as well as Brother-in-law Rusty, Sister Toni, and Father-in-law.

So much for Christmas cheer.

Our first Christmas as a married couple was marred by the fact Husband’s mother died one month before. We went to the Lutz house, ate too much, and opened gifts. Grandma had a tradition that we go around the ciricle and open a gift each until they were all gone. She wanted to see what everyone received. I was accustomed to family giving real gifts that had meaning. They gave things like tea balls, Raggedy Ann and Andy dolls, and other “fun” items. The older folks talked while us younger people took naps.

Now, the scary part is that Husband and his surviving siblings, and I, of course, are now the older generation.

One year when Husband’s sister was pregnant with her second son, she ate so much she jumped up and down to pack it all in. Then she went back for more. We laughed until we cried.

Our babies grew up, had babies, and are still having babies.

Husband and I now sit on the sofa and wait until all the young people and kids go through the food buffet.

It is safer that way because the young people come hungry for the ham and veggies and table full of cookies and goodies. There is no way I am taking these eyes cloudy with cataracts into that danger zone. I might get trampled.

When we were the young folks, we put much energy into decorating for the kids and buying them presents. Now we buy for the people age eighteen and younger.

We celebrate family by playing a gift-exchange game. This year we each chose the title of a Christmas song that we had to sing when it was our turn to choose a gift. Husband’s song was White Christmas; he stood and sang one entire stanza.

He reminded me of a third-grader performing at the Christmas program. It was cute to me. His sister outdid him, though, when she sang Away in a Manger.

I hosted Christmas when my offspring were children, and during those events we played Pictionary each year. Rusty and I married into a family of artistic people, but neither of us could draw. However, we teamed together and won each game for the reason we understood our own stick figures and unsophisticated drawings.

I never wanted to play Pictionary again after he died.

My sister-in-law continues to make the caramel brownies she has made since the beginning, but I stopped making the cherry cream cheese pies with Eagle Brand milk.

I now bring the veggie tray. It’s a mature thing to bring the healthy food.

One of the best Christmas gatherings we had was when Father-in-law and his wife had to leave early to spend time with her mother. This caused much anger and bad words among the family.  Of course, that part was not good.

Husband had been working at the mortuary, and he literally came in the door as the parents were going out. In a non-characteristic manner, Father-in-law hugged Husband and called him “buddy.”

Husband looked startled and mouthed to me”What is going on?”

In spite of anger and disappointment, after Father-in-law left we sat around the table, filled Husband in on the details of the evening, talked, laughed, and made hilarious comments.

I have always been thankful Husband was not at home at the time of the conflict. Due to his degree of impulsivity, he would not have been kind, and he would have said ugly words.

This year the Christmas event went quite smoothly while the younger generation talked about degree programs and their kids going off to college. Others talked about the babies that have arrived or are on the way.

On the way home I turned loving eyes toward Husband and said. “Well, we are now the Old Folks.” Husband returned incredulous eyes to me and replied “Ugh!”

Motor Mouth

At last week’s party, Baby Sis’ friend, Jill,  had us laughing about using the old “Sissh” gesture on noisy, obnoxious talkers.

“I know that one,” I bragged. “it’s the sign for “No.” Snap the thumb and two forefingers together in a “no” sign. I use it with my adult college students.

About a year ago I had a male adult student, who greeted me on the first night of class with: “I have ADHD.’ He announced it like a symbol of pride, almost ”

Oldest Daughter giggled before she asked, “And what was your response to that?”

“In my most sarcastic tone I replied, “Hmm. Really?  I would never have guessed.”

“I heard him talking ninety-to-nothing as I walked down the hall. I remember him as the stranger who, a few weeks earlier, came into another class begging, literally begging, for a bowl of the chili I brought for that class.”

I gave Oldest daughter and one of my best expressions of exasperation ever.

“I also stood with my arms crossed and watched him dominate not one, but TWO, conversations before he even spoke to me.”

Either Jill or Oldest Daughter said he must be a talented guy.

“Gheez,”  I commented while shaking my head.

I continued, “When he tried to excuse his behavior with ‘I have ADHD’, I stopped him with, “That’s not an excuse. They make medications for things like that. You can learn to take control.”

Jill wanted to know if I got through to him.

“Keep in mind sarcasm is not a form of communication, “ I confessed.

“Throughout the first lecture, he talked to students on either side.  I typically walk back and forth in front of students, so that night I stopped several times at his desk, said Sissh, and snapped the “No” sign. I made certain I was good-hearted about the whole thing, and he and the class laughed along with me.”

Jill and Oldest Daughter laughed, but they looked at me as if I have a lot of nerve.

I do.

Problem is, this student was not the only one in the class with obnoxious behavior problems due to ADHD. “Trouble occurred in the next course where the instructor did not exercise as much control, and the student made so much noise with his music and mouth, other students criticized both of them.”

He quit the university because of it.

Oldest Daughter jokingly mentioned, “They should have given him to you throughout his program.”

I looked incredulous, “They could not pay me enough to mentor him four years.”

My Oldest commented, “Dad has ADHD, and even he isn’t that offensive.”

“Hey, your dad is not offensive at all. He does not hold back when he talks to strangers, but there is something about him that allows him to get by with whatever he says.”

Laughing she agreed.

Recently we visited a new restaurant where he told the owner, “If you combined these ingredients in this manner, you would have Feijoada,  a favorite Brazilian recipe.”  I often become embarrassed at his bold gregarious approach to others, and I want to rush away. However, Husband engages people and carries on friendly conversations. As in this case he talked a long time with the owner, who disclosed that he frequently makes Feijoada.

I could have talked on and on about times when his conversation comes across as inappropriate or spontaneously rude, but I just didn’t want to go there. After all, it was Christmas time and our son-in-law’s birthday party. Why spoil it?

Red Velvet Cake

Last week while Christmas shopping, Baby Sis pointed to the Red Velvet cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and said to me and Oldest Daughter, “Just what is this?”

“Well, it is Christmas,” I replied. “and Red Velvet Cake is a part of the holiday color scheme and tradition.”

“Are you kidding me?” shrieked my youngest.

Oldest Daughter burst into her characteristic laughter as she observed the expression on her sister’s face.

“I know what she is thinking,” said my first born.

“You’re dang straight you know what I am thinking,” cried her incensed youngest sibling.

“Dad always told us that we could only bake Red Velvet cake in June. He said it only would rise well in the early summer months or something along that line. Otherwise, it would be a failure.”

Oldest Daughter howled with hilarity as her sister chuckled and snickered. I stood there with a silly smirk on my face.

“Your dad made the Red Velvet a special treat for my birthday,” I defended him.

“Well, quit making excuses for him,“ Baby Sis chastised. “He just lied to us so he would not have to make it more than once per year.”

“You have to admit that once per year was a really special event. We made the cake last several days because we knew it would be the last for another an entire 12 months.” I attempted to counter.

Baby Sis looked at me with the most incredulous expression. “Humpf!” was all she would reply.

Oldest daughter added, “Well, he did make it from scratch, and it was time consuming.”

Her sister reflected on that memory before she added, “He wouldn’t let us around him while he baked it, though. I wanted to help.”

“He didn’t want your hands in the way,”  her older sister said through tears of laughter.

Baby Sis changed the direction of the conversation by asking, “Since there are commercial-grade Red Velvet cupcakes and other treats, I suppose other people know the secret in making it?”

“What secret?”  Oldest Daughter asked. “You merely make it like any other cake. Follow the recipe.”

“WHHAAT?” Baby Sis moaned. “You mean all these years I thought it took special knowledge to bake it? I could have been making Red Velvet cakes on my own?”

“I understand there is now a Red Velvet cake mix which tastes like the one made from scratch,“ I told her.

“Oh, Lord,” she said not irreverently. “Is there no justice?”

Oldest daughter nearly choked on her own hysterics.

I saw her reach for her constant-companion cell phone. “Listen to this,” I heard her as she began the conversation with their brother, Crown Prince.

“Your other sister just now found out that Dad lied to us about making Red Velvet Cake.  No, I am not kidding. She believed him when he said he could only bake it in June.’

The three of us heard him laugh on the other end of the phone.

“Now she knows,” was his comment when he finally caught his breath.

Baby Sis announced, “I am going to make a Red Velvet Cake for Christmas, and then I am going to ask him what else he lied to me about.”

http://youtu.be/82QDeXB-ya0

We're Having So Much Fun

The first time we watched George C. Scott’s version of A Christmas Carol, Tiny Tim’s faint high-pitched voice proclaimed, “We’re having so much fun, Fawtha.”

That scene was in Husband’s mind a few nights later when his dad phoned. Husband answered with a high-pitched voice, “Oh, Fawtha, we’re having ever so much fun.”

 “What is going on?” father-in-law stammered and coughed.

Actually Husband was going through a time when he really didn’t like talking to his dad. His comedy afforded the right amount of cover up as he avoided being too newsy with his dad.

Just a couple of years before he refused to talk with his dad at all, which meant I served as the go-between Husband and Father-in-law. In those days before caller ID, Husband fequ ently just hung up when his dad called.

I even now blush thinking about it.

However, on the night he mimicked Tiny Tim he was having ever so much fun. He was excited to talk about it.

Husband said, “Atha bought me a pair of roller skates for Christmas. No, I haven’t been to the skating rink. I’ve been skating along our sidewalk with the kids.”

It was the beginning of the fad for in-line skates. Husband, who roller skated much as a child, wanted a pair of skates. I bought them at the roller skating rink, so they were bona fide bright blue adult skates with yellow accessory stripes.

When Husband opened the box, he immediately tied them on and wobbled out to the sidewalk. The kids followed close behind.

Three kids ages 12 through 5 chased behind one dad nearly 40 years old.

Let the neighbors laugh, I always say, and a couple of them actually did come outside to watch and snicker. It was cool to watch Husband regain his skate legs and balance, and he didn’t fall at all. A couple of times it was close, though.

That’s what makes it fun to have a dad with ADHD. He is not too inhibited to play.

The first time I saw him play with our kids without inhibition was when Oldest Daughter was less about 19 months old.

I brought home a child-size kiddie pool and dressed her in a new little swim suit. The pool was not totally tiny giving her plenty of play room.

Husband filled the pool with water, and I put her in it to splash.

He disappeared into the house and returned shortly dressed in his own swim suit. He even brought toys.

He got into the water with her, which only happened because we were younger and much slimmer in those days. He sat with his backside in the pool and his legs over the sides, and he placed her in the space between his knees

They splashed water everywhere: on each other, on me, and on the grass.  I can’t remember who laughed more; I think it may have been Husband, but the baby was super delighted to have daddy “go swimming” with her.

Of course, he and the kids enjoyed dozens of other times swimming in a regular size pool. The tiny Crown Prince and little Baby Sis each enjoyed their moments hanging tightly on his back as he swam through the pool at the YMCA, giggling together as the babies learned not to be afraid of the water.

However neat that was, those moments do not compare to the first time he went swimming with Oldest Daughter.