Merry Christmas?

In our family we have a saying. You might find it vulgar but we, being the wackos that we are, find it pretty funny. Here's why. My sister and I have MANY a childhood memory of Christmas but some of the most vivid childhood memories we share are of events that adults would porbably prefer to forget.

For instance, the best and most hilarious memory wasn't funny at all at the time. Only with our acquired adult perspective has this memory come to be, truly, the most hilarious of Christmas memories. You see one particular year Dad took me and Valerie to pick out a fresh cut Christmas tree (as was traditionally done) and Valerie spotted what was to her the most spectacular and magnificent Christmas tree EVER! Of course she had to have it. There was no arguing with her. Dad purchased the special tree.

When we got home he had to lug the tree up three flights of stairs (he lived in a condo at the time) and from the grumbling he made I'd guess it was a bit heavy for him to carry by himself.
Soon after the tree stood glowing, decorated with love and care. Valerie and I were thrilled, dad was glad to be done with it.

So, the first time the tree came crashing down it fell over the coffee table and broke a few items on the table. Most of the ornaments were spared. Dad was annoyed. We heard a few choice words from under his breath. He stood the tree back up, primped it and all was well.

The second time the tree fell it fell on me and Valerie. We were crying and upset. Dad was now visibly furious and most of the ornaments were broken. After getting out a saw and a spare stand the tree was erected once more. It was a bit less magical, yet still festive.

The third time the tree fell dad flew in to a fit of cuss words that any programmer on any TV network would have a field day bleeping! After heading out to the store to purchase a completely new stand of industrial strength the tree was finally secure. Dad was no longer in the holiday spirit of cheer. Valerie and I felt that maybe it would be a good idea for us to retreat to our bedroom and let dad have some quiet time.

Somehow, over the years we have dubbed that Christmas the Merry Bleeping Christmas. We find it funny how dad has NEVER purchased a fresh cut tree again. Since then, whenever a holiday faux pas happens we say, "well Merry bleeping Christmas." It's just a thing we do. Probably, if anyone ever heard us saying that without knowing the back story they'd think we were the most vulgar people on the planet.... but to us it's funny.

The expression took on a whole new meaning when Dustin and I had our own official "merry bleeping Christmas" a short time after we were married. When our own tree fell several times I was tempted to reenact my father's bleeps.

This leads to today's post:




This is the best of what I came up with after my sister, mom, aunt, cousins and I (plus 7 kids) had a baking day.... pretty sad.


We had a great time together, but the baking day was a bust! I had visions of bountiful baked goods in mind, each wonderfully made and delicious. Instead, everything I had planned to give to our neighbors as gifts this Christmas didn't turn out well. My sister had her own baking troubles with her desired cookies and so the only thing we made which is presentable as gifts are some chocolate covered pretzels and the few cookies you see above.


The kids really enjoyed decorating their sugar cookies with every known sprinkle and gel available to man. Those things we piled so high with frosting, etc. that they were inedible (but very pretty!) They also overdosed on sugar and so they were a blast to try to contain all day! wink, wink.


My mom and sister agreed that we felt a tiny bit discouraged to have purchased so many ingredients, and with such hopes, only to have little to show for our efforts. Mostly we HAD overly decorated, slobber contaminated, kiddie sugar cookies that no adult on this planet would touch, even with a ten foot pole (the kids, however, WERE thrilled with them) I use the past tense in reference to the sugar cookies because my dear sister called this a.m. to tell me her dog had polished off every last one of them off the counter and so now she had only the pretzels left! HOW QUAINT!!

Guess what I said to Valerie next through the phone, "Merry bleeping Christmas!"


Ah, what a tradition!