Christmas Eve Traditions

December 24, 2011

It’s 6:00 PM Christmas Eve and I’m writing.  This is a strange combination for me.

When I was growing up, Christmas Eve was always with my mom’s family.  My grandmother hosted.  We didn’t have elaborate or formal meals.  We had barbecue or ham sandwiches, potato chips and cookies.  But most importantly, we had peanut butter fudge.  Every Christmas Eve, I can eat or drink any number of wonderful things; I still have a craving for peanut butter fudge.

After my mom’s parents passed away, only five of us were left to get together.  For a few years, I directed an ad hoc Christmas Eve choir at our church for the 7:30 Mass.  My mom’s family joined the choir, so we were all still together.  We had dinner after Mass and a couple of us went back to church to sing with the regular choir at midnight.

Organizing a choir in four rehearsals during December, if you haven’t tried it, is a highly stressful activity to add to the holidays.  So I handed the reigns to someone else.  It was suggested that, since I “didn’t have anything to do,” I could host Christmas Eve dinner between Masses.  That’s what I did the last two years.  I liked hosting dinner.  It created crazy chaos in my life, but if things fell completely apart in the kitchen, I always had frozen pizza to fall back on.

This year, someone else in both the 7:30 and midnight choirs asked to host dinner tonight; she recently remodeled her kitchen.  I’ve found myself with most of the evening free.

So it’s a little strange.  But fortuitous.  I’ve had a cold the last couple of days.  My house is only half decorated because the clients at work have gone completely mental.  I have one tree up in the family room and a bare artificial evergreen standing in my living room.  (Another hint to mothers out there: if your unmarried son puts up two Christmas trees, he’s probably gay.)

I’ve kept up some traditions.  I did get all my presents purchased and wrapped.  I practiced music to play at church and at gatherings tomorrow.  I sent cards.  (Christmas cards are about the only personal correspondence that ever comes through the mail any more.  I love them.)  I even put up my front door garland in the midst of editing this.

And today I dragged my tired, sick self into the kitchen.  After a thorough disinfection, I read off the instructions from a jar of marshmallow fluff, boiled sugar and butter, threw in peanut butter chips and poured the molten goodness over chocolate chips in a pan.

I may not have a voice to sing my Christmas carols.  My house may be half-decked with evergreen and holly until New Year’s.  I may not be able to stay awake all through midnight Mass.  But come hell or high reindeer, I’m going to have peanut butter fudge on Christmas Eve.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night.


One comment

  1. Reblogged this on Inspiredweightloss.

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