Baby Skates, Baby Jesus and Salsa-What a Combination!

I was having dinner with a friend of mine and we were talking at length about what our favorite Christmas memories were growing up. I was regaling him with stories about what a Mougey Christmas looked like, and what it meant.

My favorite and perhaps most formative Christmas memory happened to me when I was only five. I was supposed to be in bed, but had gotten up and both my parents were laying on the floor in the living room looking up at the tree and talking, laughing and well, just being adults. I remember the feeling as I approached their figures on the floor. I remember that it was during the middle of the week, and my dad was still there, which was unusual because he was/is working out of town a lot. It was a special time. I imagine that in the whole scheme of things my parents were probably talking about how to pay for Christmas and all that kind of boring adult stuff. One of them saw me and called me over. I went and lay in between them on the floor. I remember knowing how special this time was even in that moment. My brother was not even a figment of anyone’s imagination at this point, so I was the middle of three little girls- and to have such time – precious time with my parents all to myself was rare!! My mom and I had our heads resting on my dad’s arm and I was wrapped tightly in my mother’s embrace. We talked about what I wanted for Christmas. Baby Jesus must have been listening because I got Baby Skates that year!!!

I was talking with my friend also about the language of Christmas. We, my siblings and I were not encouraged to believe in Santa Clause, but rather it was Baby Jesus who delivered toys and presents to us on Christmas because he wanted to make sure that we knew how very special his birthday was! What that meant was that Baby Jesus (my dad) delivered the stockings and my parents bought our Christmas presents. My dad would be helping in the kitchen with dinner and the grandparents would have the grandkids entertained and distracted in the living room. My dad would sneak out the back door of the house, around the side of the house to the front porch and drop off the stockings filled with all kinds of good and wonderful things. He would hurry back around to the back of the house. As soon as he would walk in the back door, my mom would come out of the kitchen exclaiming that she thought she had heard something on the front porch… “Maybe Baby Jesus dropped something. One of your girls go and see if Baby Jesus left something out there!” We of course would make a mad dash for a glimpse of Baby Jesus. My dad in the meantime would be thawing out in the kitchen eating some turkey.

I was laughing as I was telling my friend Adam about all this, and how being raised knowing that it was Baby Jesus had brought our gifts rather Santa had always been an interesting dynamic for us as kids growing up.

The other part I remember about Christmas is also a Dad memory. On Christmas Eve, we would of course have a big meal and when the food was all put away, my dad would get tomatoes, paprika and tobasco out. He would then begin to make homemade salsa. I remember that us girls were watching him very intently and then asked, “What are you doing Dad?” “Makin’ salsa for tonight,” was the response. After an audible gasp from three little girls he looked up at us (we were on the counter) and he said, “What’s wrong?” “Is that for Baby Jesus?” was the question back. Thinking quick, he said, “Yes! Yes, I am going to leave this out for Baby Jesus tonight! Won’t that be great?” Looking back I can just imagine the wheels turning! He thought he had managed to “trick” or at least throw the girls off track. Not so fast Dad! “But Daddy, Baby Jesus is a baby! He can’t have anything spicy!!!”

We were told to go and finish watching Emmett Otter’s Jug Band Christmas or to go to bed.

May the spirit of waiting for Baby Jesus continue to fill your hearts and your days!