in which i whore out my blog in an attempt to win stuff

I was, as I am wont to do, reading Navel Gazing, and noticed a li'l contest going on, and so here I am: I'm writing about my own Christmas traditions. These are the traditions held by my own li'l family:

~On Thanksgiving night, after the meal and naps and whatnot (mostly whatnot), my kids are each given a gift: a new ornament (as of now, it's always been from Hallmark), and a new pair of jammies. We used to do the jammies thing on Christmas Eve, but this way they can wear their jammies as much as they want while we enjoy the getting-ready season. They are SO EXCITED to get to open this present. Maybe that's because...

~Our kids only get three gifts for Christmas (plus their stocking): two from Darin & me, and one from Santa (this doesn't include gifts from grandparents, etc.). I totally bogarted this idea from la yen, but it's genius. It cuts down on the "MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY THIS IS WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR!" Since they know they're only getting three things, they're careful what they ask for. I usually ask for five requests so that their three are surefire winners, and so that their three aren't: a motorcycle, a castle, and three more wishes (or whatever). Why is three the magic number? Because that's how many Jesus got.

~I go shopping on Black Friday to get good deals on those three gifts each.

~I write a The Christmas Letter.

~We create our Christmas Wall.

~I read this letter that my brother wrote.

~This tradition requires a story from my own childhood. When I was in 5th grade, my dad had brain surgery. He was released from the Cleveland Clinic a few days before Christmas (I remember it being Christmas Eve, but since it was twenty years ago, and I wasn't into which day it was back then, I'm not certain). I know now that my parents had ZERO dollars for anything of a Christmas nature. Nothing. This is not an exaggeration. My dad had not been able to work for months, and there was just -- nothing. The drive to Cleveland to pick him up took a long time, and I think the drive home took twice as long: six hours or so, as opposed to the normal three, due to the snow. We parked the car in the driveway and walked into our house to find the following: two completely decorated Christmas trees, more gifts than we had ever seen, and dozens of bags of groceries. As a parent now, I can sort of imagine the gratitude my own parents must have felt to have seen this display, and it is overwhelming. Our Christmas celebration that year was courtesy of the teachers and pto from the school where my dad was/is a teacher, and from the local volunteer fire department. And now my current tradition: I go to the Giving Tree at the mall and pick a card for a ten year old girl, a seven year old girl, and a six year old boy, and buy them their Christmas gift requests. Because while it's not about getting stuff . . . when you're a kid without anything, it's absolutely about getting stuff.

~We put up about a half-string of lights on our house. This is half in defiance of the Griswolds to the front of us and the Griswolds to the back of us, as their lights can just be reflected off of our house and it might actually look like we, too, went all out. No, seriously, they started before Halloween with their lights. I know I talk about this every year, and maybe this year I'll actually post photos to prove it.

And there you have it. These traditions are simple things I can keep up with year after year, and when we decide on more, we'll add them.

Word.

*****added the next day because I forgot to mention this one***

~A few days before Christmas, we get up really early and donate a bunch of stuff to The Road Home, a homeless shelter in Salt Lake City which not only houses people, but also provides counseling and work services to help families get back on their feet. While from a practical standpoint this seems logical: get rid of stuff so that we'll have room for the new stuff we get for Christmas (doesn't it sometimes seem like all we do is move our stuff around??), the Christmas part comes when we arrive: residents see us walking up with our boxes and bags and wish us a Merry Christmas. They ask for high-fives from the kids. And they are vocally thrilled with the fact that someone brought lotion. Or socks. Things that we might not think of as luxuries are heralded and lauded as if we had just given them precious jewels. The drive home from this annual, humbling event promotes conversation about how fortunate we are, and makes our Christmas a time in which we are more grateful for our blessings.