Sugar Plum Filled Memories of Christmas's past?
I think not.
There were no sugar filled plum memories in my childhood of Christmas.
Most memories are flashes for me, nothing long lasting or a memorable family tradition. Some years other priorities took precedence such as eating for the entire month, clothes or my mothers booze and cigarettes. I am pretty sure a few Christmas's were tucked neatly away in the, "Let's pretend this is another ordinary day in the household" drawer.
I remember when we were a family of me getting a record player. It was striped red and yellow for the top of the cover. A Baby Alive doll as well, that ate food and pooped. I look back now and wonder what is so memorable about wiping a butt that isn't mine?
There was a Christmas or two that was funded by those good ole credit cards. I am sure it was a huge credit amount that my mother had no intention of paying, hell what credit card company was stupid enough to give a lady on public assistance a credit limit? That was the Alden's Christmas Catalog year. I had wheels, roller-skates and a skateboard. It was a yellow banana looking thing. A boy in the back apartments wound up stealing it. Later on in high school I remember kissing him. That was also the same Christmas that my Barbies, whose legs did not bend, had food that was larger that her head. A green bean was about as long as her arm. It was interesting and I never complained. Now, that was a Christmas I really bragged about.
Then there was the Christmas funded by The Salvation Army. I remember the only toy I got that year was a stuffed animal that I got to pick out, while my mother was getting certificates for food. So holidays were never a big thing in my house growing up. It was horrible when it was time to go back to school and everyone was bragging about what Santa brought them. Well, fuck you all, I got a mother fucking ham and scalloped potatoes! Since I had no friends who came over to the house, I could lie my ass off about what Santa brought me and they were none the wiser.
When I married Brian, the holidays changed. He made sure that I saw the lights on all of the houses, and he went all out for the holidays. Halloween was an event in itself at the house, and he would spend the entire weekend decorating the front of the house, while the younger children watched him hang zombie babies from the trees and stuck bloodies knives in the side of the house. The decorations for Christmas went the same way. We would spend an entire weekend getting the lights up and all of the indoor and outdoor decorations in order. We would spend hours unwinding lights, and trying to find that one blinker that would curse the entire light strand, as well as unraveling the strands, no matter how well we packed them the year before, they always came out like a rat attacked them while in hibernation.
Brian had the Christmas houses and he would decorate the inside of the house, in one area with the Christmas houses. Every year we would buy new snow, and ensure that more holiday décor was added to the pile. Some would have called him out as a hoarder, but since it was Christmas, I let him be. Especially since he knew nothing of the scrapbooking warehouse I had hidden under the stairs.
He bought out the fun of Christmas and showed me how happy and why it is such a wonderful holiday. In San Diego, we would always drive to the miles upon miles of house lights on Pepper Drive as well as Balboa Park. Even though it was always sunny in San Diego, he would find someway to bring on the smell of snow, and hot chocolate. He was good like that. It took me thirty years to finally get sugar plum filled memories, and they only lasted a short time. But in that short time he made sure that I would never forget each and every year at Christmas time. He was like a child in a toy store. I wish I could relive just one of those memories. Except for the Christmas that every single gift he got me was a item of clothing. Not cute scarves and hats either, those hideous zip up bulky sweaters. I'd give anything to get one of those from him now.
There were no sugar filled plum memories in my childhood of Christmas.
Most memories are flashes for me, nothing long lasting or a memorable family tradition. Some years other priorities took precedence such as eating for the entire month, clothes or my mothers booze and cigarettes. I am pretty sure a few Christmas's were tucked neatly away in the, "Let's pretend this is another ordinary day in the household" drawer.
I remember when we were a family of me getting a record player. It was striped red and yellow for the top of the cover. A Baby Alive doll as well, that ate food and pooped. I look back now and wonder what is so memorable about wiping a butt that isn't mine?
There was a Christmas or two that was funded by those good ole credit cards. I am sure it was a huge credit amount that my mother had no intention of paying, hell what credit card company was stupid enough to give a lady on public assistance a credit limit? That was the Alden's Christmas Catalog year. I had wheels, roller-skates and a skateboard. It was a yellow banana looking thing. A boy in the back apartments wound up stealing it. Later on in high school I remember kissing him. That was also the same Christmas that my Barbies, whose legs did not bend, had food that was larger that her head. A green bean was about as long as her arm. It was interesting and I never complained. Now, that was a Christmas I really bragged about.
Then there was the Christmas funded by The Salvation Army. I remember the only toy I got that year was a stuffed animal that I got to pick out, while my mother was getting certificates for food. So holidays were never a big thing in my house growing up. It was horrible when it was time to go back to school and everyone was bragging about what Santa brought them. Well, fuck you all, I got a mother fucking ham and scalloped potatoes! Since I had no friends who came over to the house, I could lie my ass off about what Santa brought me and they were none the wiser.
When I married Brian, the holidays changed. He made sure that I saw the lights on all of the houses, and he went all out for the holidays. Halloween was an event in itself at the house, and he would spend the entire weekend decorating the front of the house, while the younger children watched him hang zombie babies from the trees and stuck bloodies knives in the side of the house. The decorations for Christmas went the same way. We would spend an entire weekend getting the lights up and all of the indoor and outdoor decorations in order. We would spend hours unwinding lights, and trying to find that one blinker that would curse the entire light strand, as well as unraveling the strands, no matter how well we packed them the year before, they always came out like a rat attacked them while in hibernation.
Brian had the Christmas houses and he would decorate the inside of the house, in one area with the Christmas houses. Every year we would buy new snow, and ensure that more holiday décor was added to the pile. Some would have called him out as a hoarder, but since it was Christmas, I let him be. Especially since he knew nothing of the scrapbooking warehouse I had hidden under the stairs.
He bought out the fun of Christmas and showed me how happy and why it is such a wonderful holiday. In San Diego, we would always drive to the miles upon miles of house lights on Pepper Drive as well as Balboa Park. Even though it was always sunny in San Diego, he would find someway to bring on the smell of snow, and hot chocolate. He was good like that. It took me thirty years to finally get sugar plum filled memories, and they only lasted a short time. But in that short time he made sure that I would never forget each and every year at Christmas time. He was like a child in a toy store. I wish I could relive just one of those memories. Except for the Christmas that every single gift he got me was a item of clothing. Not cute scarves and hats either, those hideous zip up bulky sweaters. I'd give anything to get one of those from him now.
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