Share Your Christmas Stories

[Team HoundMom]

Well I can tell you about the Christmas morning when I woke up to an empty stocking and no gifts.

I had broken my own rule and was seeing a guy who was a single parent.  His son was 5. I was in college and my roommate moved away so this guy let me live with them because I couldn't afford a place on my own. This is what apparently transpired on Christmas Eve. He knew there was an expensive moisturizer I loved, but of course being a dude he didn't know exactly what so he got me 2 $25 Sears gift cards to get it.  He also got me a big fluffy teddy bear and his buddy was supposed to take him shopping for stocking stuffers for me. (He didn't have a vehicle at the time.)  So on Christmas Eve he goes to his mom's house and it turns out her boyfriend's sons each gave him a gift and he hadn't bought anything for them...so he gave them the gift cards.  Then his brother and brother's daughter (age 9 or so?) showed up and he hadn't bought them gifts...so he gave her the teddy bear.  Then his buddy couldn't be bothered to take him shopping (I guess taking the bus or finding another ride wasn't an option  ) so he didn't get anything for my stocking.

So there I was on Christmas morning with an empty stocking, no presents, and a little kid going "Daddy, why didn't Santa bring Hurricane anything?"

Even though as a "starving student" I still managed to scrape up presents for him and his son.

I felt extra guilty for feeling hurt because Christmas is supposed to be all about "giving not receiving" and "for the children" and as an adult (27) I had no right to feel hurt or resentful about not getting any Christmas gifts given to me. I've had bad Christmases before and after, but that one would be the worst.  (I left him very shortly after, not because of that but because I couldn't handle living with a child and because he simply wasn't the "right guy" for me.)

[rm247]

This was a few years ago when one of the Gameboy versions had just come out (I think it was GBA) and my sister was about 13

I always give my sister a pile of presents, one of her favourite Christmas memories was when I pulled a sledge into the front room stacked with presents for her. She is allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve and I was adamant that THIS UNREMARKABLE PRESENT couldn't be opened as she wouldn't be able to use it till Christmas Day when she opens her other presents. so after I brought her attention to THIS UNREMARKABLE PRESENT that just so happened to be the same shape, size and weight of a GBA, she had figured out what it was, you can imagine how excited she was.

Christmas morning and this was her first present, I can still see the look on her face as she opened it and found... A GBA shaped metal pencil case! She did her best not to look disappointed and grateful right up to the point when I told to open the pencil case. Inside was the actual GBA. She screamed.

[Thipu1]

I have a raft of Christmas stories but this is one I remember well. 

I was about six years of age and, when my Dad was mowing the lawn in warm weather,  I would follow him with my doll carriage and pretend to be mowing along with him. 

That Christmas, one of the gifts I received was a toy lawn mower that could actually work. 

I loved the gift but it was December and there was nothing to mow.  Being an inventive child, I decided that it would be a good idea to mow the Christmas tree.  I did so with great gusto and, of course, the entire seven foot tree crashed to the floor.

I had to be punished and the punishment was severe.  I was denied access to the public library for a
full three weeks. My Dad wanted to give me a good whoopin' but Mom vetoed that because she had done something similar to her family's tree when she was my age. 

The next year, the annual recital at my dancing school had the theme of 'Holidays'.  I was 'Labor Day' and had a solo.  I performed a tap dance in a red, white and blue tutu with the lawn mower as a
prop.

Thus was the lawn mower rehabilitated in our family.         

[cwm]

The saving places in line thread made me remember another holiday tradition I'm glad my mom is continuing. Someone posted about a woman stocking up for nuclear winter, a comment on the amount of canned and non-perishable goods in her cart.

We've always had a spirit of charity in our family. Every year when Harvesters had their big donation push, we'd go to Aldi's or Costco or Sam's Club and stock up on canned goods. When Sis and I got to high school and our school did a canned good drive, they'd give us each $50 during the drive to spend how we wanted. Trust me, I got great at budgeting that $50, and as a senior when we had friends with jobs, memberships to the bulk store clubs, and cars, we'd coordinate who was getting what, when, how much they had, and how much extra they could spend if we'd pay them back.

My favorite memory was when one of our regular restaurants had a food drive. It was through a registered charity, and the owners of the restaurant were going to match pound for pound the food donated. Dad went and spent $150 at Aldi's and Sam's Club, brought in literally two loads of food in the back of a Jeep with the back seats down. The owners of the restaurant had to slightly change their donation amount to their maximum they could because Dad had met it.

I still stop and buy nonperishables when I'm shopping and there's a certain charity at the store. They're not pushy, I can afford to give a few dollars worth of food to them, but I'm looking forward to the giant trip with mom and sis to load up the whole car full of food for the needy.

[Thipu1]

There is the story of the box. 

One year, a cousin got a seasonal job at a very posh department store.  It was a place we'd never think of shopping but Cousin got a hefty discount and many of us received gifts in the distinctive box of the store. 

Everyone on both sides of the family lived within ten miles of each other and we were all on good terms.  Nobody thought anything about re-using gift boxes.  Often, these were from places that had gone out of business years before.  The box from posh store that originally contained my Mother's gift attained legendary status in the family. 

The year after she received it, Mom used it for her sister's gift.  The year after that, it went to Dad's side of the family.  The game was on!

After a few years, the question during the Christmas morning barrage of phone calls was, 'Who got the box this year?'

Repaired with tape, that box had a life of over 20 years.  Its end came when an Aunt welcomed a new bride to the family by packing a shower gift in it.  The Bride knew about the tradition but was not impressed.  She was insulted by the 'ratty' box and threw it away.

The family was not surprised to learn that the marriage was dissolved within the year. 





 

[#borecore]

Heh, we had a nice Lord & Taylor box (but not actually remarkable in any way) that was used for gifts for at least 15 years.It only circulated within my mom's house, though.

[Asharah]

Erma Bombeck: "Every Christmas I get something from my mother in a NeimanMarcus box. It's always the same box. My mother's never been in NeimanMarcus in her life."

[mime]

We have a "box" story, too. In my extended family, any box will do when wrapping gifts. One year, Auntie wrapped some smaller gifts for my brother in a box that had originally contained envelopes. He unwrapped the box, saw that it was a box of envelopes, and kindly thanked Auntie for the gift.

Later, Auntie realized Brother had never even opened the box, so our mom had him open it and look inside. I think it had some special baseball cards and baseball-themed pencils, etc. in it. Way better than envelopes!

Now every year, someone gets a gift in an envelope box. When it is unwrapped, we act delighted and say "Oooooh, envelopes! Just what I needed! Thank you so much for the envelopes!"

[mime]

one more:

As I grew up, every Christmas dinner was at my mom's cousin's house. Cousin was in a family with several brothers and sisters who were always there, too.

The cousins had a rough childhood. Their dad (my great-uncle who got the cut-direct from most of the family) was awful to them before finally leaving for good. He left great-aunt who barely spoke english and a houseful of kids with almost nothing, and no way to support themselves. One year Cousin was lamenting the fact that they really did't have any pictures from their childhood. She knew some had been taken over the years, but never saw them herself. She had seen less than five photographs of her or her brothers and sisters from childhood. Ever.

My mom made it her mission to find pictures for the next Christmas. She really went to bat against my grandmother and another aunt who were the self-appointed gatekeepers of all family-related stuff, and very unwilling to share. Eventually, my mom got her hands on piles of photographs of Cousin's family from the 40s, 50s, 60s, and into the 70s taken by other relatives. She got copies of everything for Cousin. This was before stores had in-shop equipment to do this type of thing. She had to go to a specialty shop to have negatives made, then get the negatives developed, and it was mostly a mail-order thing. She did it in small batches for fear of losing it all in the mail. By next Christmas, she had over 200 pictures for Cousin.

She wrapped them in calico and ribbons in small stacks of 10 pictures each and put them in a basket, so it looked like a big basket full of little presents. When Cousin opened the first stack and realized that the basket was full of pictures, she burst into tears, which didn't stop flowing until all of the pictures had been seen. The other cousins (siblings) were equally excited and started to grab at the stacks too. Cousin grabbed the basket and said "no-- I don't want to miss anything. I'll pass everything around as I open them", and the whole evening was spent with everyone in tears, looking at old pictures and sharing memories.

The next year, Cousin had enough copies of all of the pictures made to give a photobook to each of her siblings.

I remember my mom working so hard on that all year. It's been a long time, but we still talk about how wonderful it was to watch the whole family see this gift.

[Amara]

That is an incredibly touching story, mime.

[violinp]

I've had a lot of great Christmases, but the one really bad one from when we were 6 sticks out in my mind. Our family calls it "The Christmas from Hell."

To start off, Cabbage, the night of the church Christmas pageant, came down with croup. Yes, she still had to do her lines.  Mom took her to the hospital afterward, and she got medicine.

Then, we traveled down to Louisiana to spend Christmas with Mom's parents and grandma. Mom's dad was a pastor, and we all went to church on Christmas Eve. After the service, Gramps is talking with some members about a new security system, and how he doesn't see a need to update the security system. Just as he says that, Dad comes back in to let the family know that our car has been stolen.

Cabbage and I freaked out and started crying, but fortunately for our family, two things happened. One, the only car Gran and Gramps had was a van, so we could all go back home together. Two, the police chief attended Gramps' church, so we got our car into police custody later that night. The retrieval of the car may or may not have been aided by criminals who were almost stupid to live - they stole our car to drive to another place to steal another car to drive to another place to steal another car.     

Then, Mom, Gran, and Great - Grandma all got pneumonia days after Christmas, and Dad came down with a cold, as well as Cabbage still recovering from croup. Since Great - Grandma was older and frail, she went to the hospital for treatment...and they gave her the antibiotics she was allergic to. Her throat almost swelled shut, plus she still had pneumonia.

Yeah, that was a *lovely* Christmas. NOT.

[CakeEater]

My grandparents had relations in England, and went to visit often (from Australia, in the 70s and 80s when that was an even more major journey than it is now).

By the time they were no longer able to travel, my parents and I had planned a separate, but at the same time trip to England (long story) and made a point to visit the relations on my grandparents' behalf. My grandfather had be telling us about a table that English relations (ER) had that was about 2 feet high and had arms that folded out in various places in order to hold plates, and the hostess would put a little plate of cake or sandwiches on each arm at afternoon tea time. He was most impressed with the wworking of this table and described it at length.

When we arrived at ER's house, there was the table with  the plates on it as described and during the course of the visit, ER (who was quite elderly herself) insisted that we take the table back to Australia for my grandfather, because he had always loved it so much.

So my poor parents had to lug this folded table around for the rest of their two week trip, and get it home as extra luggage. It was worth it, though, when we presented it to my grandfather at Christmas. He was so stunned, and impressed to have received this table, and knew what it had meant to its owner, and the relationship that they'd had, that he welled up with tears, and was just speechless as he sat with this table. It was such a lovely moment.

My cousin, who knew none of the back story, kind-of broke the moment with her comment, "I'm amazed!(pause for effect)... and confused."

[Outdoor Girl]

My parents moved us a 4-5 hour drive from where their siblings lived when I was very little.  So every year, there was usually a trip, by us, back to the area sometime before Christmas to deliver and pick up gifts.

One year, I stayed home with Mom and my brother, who was driving by this time, and my Dad made the trip.  They'd seen Dad's relatives and were heading to my Mom's sister's place to spend the night and then head home.  My Aunt was going to come to our house for Christmas but wasn't planning on coming until closer to Christmas.

As they were driving down the highway, with my Dad driving, a car coming out from a side road didn't stop.  Dad had seen them and had slowed down but still T-boned them, going a pretty good clip.  The other guy had two little girls in the front seat with him, none of them wearing seatbelts.  My Dad and brother were both wearing theirs.

My brother jumped out to go give the guy what for; my Dad struggled because his door would only open a foot and hollered to my brother to make sure they were OK first, before he lit into the guy.     Police showed up, wanted my Dad and brother to go to the hospital to be checked out.  Dad had seatbelt bruises, brother had bruises on his arms because he braced on the dash (no airbags) but other than that, they were OK and refused to go to hospital.  Police dropped them off at Aunt's house.

So on the day they were expected back home, they arrived with my Aunt.  And that's when we heard what had happened; Dad didn't want to tell Mom over the phone because he knew she'd freak out.  I was just thrilled because I got more time with my favourite Aunt.

Dad called the insurance agent to get moving on that, let him know that Dad was going to buy a new car.  The insurance agent tried to stall him, saying it wasn't a sure thing that the car would be written off.  Dad told him that if it wasn't written off, he didn't want it back.  The engine had moved right back against the fire wall, the sway bars in the trunk were bent; no way was he taking it back, fixed.

So Mom got a new car for Christmas.  Dad went out and bought the same car, put it in the garage with a bow on it and didn't let Mom go see it until Christmas morning.

[cwm]

Violinp, that reminds me of my worst Christmas ever. It was just me, but I got sick Christmas Eve, so I missed dad's family gathering, mom stayed home with me. The next day I was running a fever and still sick. We had to reschedule Christmas Breakfast, something that was always at our house because it was mom and dad's immediate families both, and calling people at a time where they may well have left their homes in the days before cell phones to reschedule the location wasn't fun. I watched the scramble and cried because I couldn't have any of the homemade cinnamon rolls. Mom ONLY made them for Christmas, and she wasn't going to save any for me because she didn't know when I'd feel well enough to eat them.

Grandma stayed home with me and skipped her only Christmas time, and then mom and dad and sis went to mom's extended family celebrations. And I will never forget how my sister "accidentally" unwrapped every single of my presents in the back seat, both on Christmas Eve and on Christmas Day. Even the things that were the same between her and me. Every year my dad's mom got all the grandkids a calendar and a pair of gloves. Everyone knew exactly what those two presents were. Sis's and mine were always identical so we wouldn't argue (usually cute kittens or puppies on the calendar and pink or purple gloves) and she still says she forgot and thought they were hers. Even though she could read my name. And had been told not to.

[Thipu1]

The most uncomfortable Christmas.

When I was in my early teens, we received a phone call from a relative about another relative i'll call Mary.  I don't remember the reason but although Mary was staying with these other relatives, she would be coming to Christmas dinner with us.  Her hosts would not be attending. 

Normally, this would not be a problem but there was something about Mary that was a bit unsettling.    40 years bafore this Christmas she had murdered her husband with a meat cleaver and had since been living in a facility for the criminally insane. 

My mother should have nipped this idea in the bud but she was a kind-hearted soul and couldn't turn down any request from her in-laws.  Special precautions had to be taken so my parents and I had a
meeting to plan strategy.

Under no circumstances was Mary to be allowed in the kitchen. I was 14. Mary was in her 70s.    I had never met her and had only heard about her in the vaguest of terms.  Still, it would be my job to keep her entertained in the Dining Room or den until dinner was served.  I was to keep the
conversation light and cheerful.  Nothing was to be done that could 'set her off'. 

Talk about walking on egg shells! 

As it turned out, Mary was quite a pleasant lady who read a lot.  We had plenty to discuss.  The only glitch came when Mary stated that she preferred smooth cranberry sauce to the whole berry variety my mother had made. When Mary wasn't happy you could hear a pin drop. 

The encounter wasn't horrible but we all breathed a sigh of relief when the relatives came to take
Mary back to their house.

When you're 14, how often can you say you had Christmas dinner with a distant relative who was also a murderer?