Tradition minus Topol

Growing up in South Florida means several things for the Christmas season:

We never drive to a beautiful tree farm in the country to cut down our own fresh pine.

We never ever have snow, not even close.

We do not go sledding or skiing, unless its on water and therefore have precious little need for knitwear of any kind.

We experience only 6-7 days each year that truly merit the making of hot chocolate.

If you try to go Caroling, you could be shot at by thugs or drained of all blood by the Chupacabra.

Thankfully, none of these things affects our true appreciation and love of Christmas and since most of us have grown up here, we are none the wiser and rather enjoy our tropical holiday weather (unless you are my mother). My family piled into the car every year the day after Thanksgiving to go fetch our Christmas tree. We bought our tree at one of several tree tents around town. These "tree tents" are basically massive red and white striped circus tents stuffed to the hilt with evergreens, each held in place by the wrought iron spikes sticking into their trunks. Dad liked them tall, Mom liked them plump, my sister and I liked to race around the rows of impaled Christmas trees trying to find the fattest plumpest tree before the other. We'd pick out our tree, drive home and begin the long process of putting up the tree, decorating the house and finally, ordering in horrific amounts of MSG-soaked Chinese food and watching Christmas Vacation with Chevy Chase.

I used to love watching and helping my Dad put up the tree. Christmas tunes would blast from the stereo as we fa la la'd around the house placing red bows on lamp shades and plastic pointsettias around every picture frame on the walls. Then my Mother would drag in plastic storage bins filled with Christmas decorations we had collected throughout the years. We have one ornament to celebrate and remember every year, home, child, vacation, Elementary craft fair project, deceased pet and anniversary conceivable. Opening the ornament box is like looking through a scrapbook of our lives. Eventually the last hallmark memory is hung from a bough and we sit back to admire the tree. If it manages to not topple over, we proceed to the living room for the chinese food and Chevy.

Now its time for new family traditions and I want to establish ours early, after all Christmas comes only once a year! This afternoon we packed the boys into the car, with red shirts and matching knit caps firmly in place, and off we went in search of a small evergreen to call our own. We decided to purchase a small tree this year in consideration of the fact that our children like to pull large objects down on top of themselves. In an attempt to avoid all things organ crushing or ER-related this Christmas, our little tree stands at a very proud 5 feet and is slimmer than a Parisian model. The tree tent had piles of tree trimmings near the check out stand for free, I grabbed a generous amount and made a few wreaths when we arrived home, gathering scraggly bits of pine and tucking them into various corners. J set up the tree and I proceeded to deck the house in holly and sap. (Babies and sap are a particularly terrible combination, bath time included several shrieks of protest and wails of misery this evening). I dusted off our box of meager decorations and we looked over the three new ones we've added this year celebrating one vacation, one new child and one frisky little owl. We had a lovely time stringing them up.

The little bungalow is now decked out for Christmas. The front room smells of pine, pumpkin spice and baby powder. The boys loved playing with their newly reintroduced Play School Manger Set. Baby Jesus is whiter than Cubby and the Wise Men are suspiciously paler than I imagine Middle Eastern Princes would be but nonetheless the boys chirped out a chorus of "moos" and "baahs" before dinner this evening. They played a rather rambunctious session of "Three sheep and a donkey attack Mary and Joseph while a lone angel beats a cow over the head with Baby Jesus". When we finally sat down to eat our butternut squash soup and grilled cheese sandwiches (J hates Chinese) I watched the Bear eagerly wield his spoon from bowl to mouth and noticed Cubby admiring the lights from our little tree, I felt truly grateful for my little family.

Once the Advent season begins we will eat our meals each night by the light of the wreath. The first week will be quite dark with little illumination from the one lit candle, but each week our dinner table will grow brighter and brighter as we near the coming of our King!