The Jennifer Blogs

38 Days, 15 Hours, 28 Minutes til Christmas. But who's counting?

Christmas is, without a doubt, my most favorite time of year! I have such great childhood memories of Christmas. Growing up in upstate New York meant snow on Christmas most years. I didn't appreciate it then, but it's hard to celebrate Christmas now without the flaky, white cold stuff.

Leading up to Christmas, there were always Christmas cookies. My grandma Nettnin always made sugar cookies for the grandkids to decorate. I remember circling around the kitchen table with my brother and cousins, each of us with all the necessary tools. Gram made sure we were outfitted with plenty of bowls of colored icing, sprinkles, cinnamon dots and anything else you might put on a cookie. My brother was always about throwing as much crap on a cookie as he could fit (better to later eat). I wanted mine to be works of art. My star cookies had perfectly symmetrical designs. Santa always had a red hat with a white stripe and a white pom pom. After we were done, Grandma would put the cookies in a tin lined with wax paper. That night we'd get to eat one with some hot chocolate. The next morning for breakfast? Cookies! Seriously. Christmas cookies for breakfast. Yum.

I loved Christmas caroling too. We never did that where I grew up, but the years we would go visit Gram in Florida, we'd go with our cousins to a specific neighborhood and ring the doorbells, sing a song, and be invited in for cookies and cocoa. I remember one year ringing a doorbell and singing, "Here Comes Santa Claus" the minute the door opened. The lady proclaimed, "We don't celebrate Christmas," and shut the door in our faces. I was stunned. Not celebrate Christmas? Surely there was some kind of mistake. I wanted to call DCF and report them for child abuse. What family withholds the joy of Christmas from a child? Later that night my mom explained that Jews don't celebrate Christmas.

Trimming the tree was never a huge deal at our house when I was a kid. Or, if it was, I don't remember it. But I've made a big deal of it since moving out of my parents' house. My first Christmas on my own I took great care to pick out the perfect Christmas tree. I bought coordinating ornaments and bows and other decorations. It went up the day after Thanksgiving and stayed up until around the 5th of January. I photographed it from every angle. I watered it every day. I was the perfect Christmas tree owner.

When I was a kid, my favorite Christmas present was a doll house Santa Claus brought me when I was about nine years old. I played with Barbies, but the Barbies were too tall to fit in this house, but luckily Santa had the foresight to buy me some smaller dolls to live in this mansion. The dolls were made of cornhusk, so they weren't as realistic as Barbie, Ken & Skipper, nor did they have cool wardrobes. But they fit in the house and that's what mattered.

One year my little brother Charlie was opening a gift from Santa and was shocked to find pajamas inside that beautifully wrapped package. Boy, was he shocked! He even proclaimed, "I didn't order these! Santa must have made a mistake!"

Looking back now I realize how odd it was that Santa brought us all kinds of gifts when we were kids. My parents gave us nothing. I have friends who say Santa brought them just one gift and all the rest were from their parents. Other friends had one gift from their parents and all the rest from Santa. Nearly every friend I've talked to about Santa Claus has a different story to tell about who supplied the gifts at their house.

My kids will likely never get to experience one of the best joys of Christmas I had as a child -- the Sears Wish Book. I would go through that thing from front cover to back cover every day, jotting down things I couldn't live without. Every day I would go through that catalog. I kind of claimed ownership of it. Mom would be looking for it and would have to ask me where to find it. I'd make her go in the kitchen while I'd go dig it out of the hiding place I had found for it. There was no way I was going to let anyone else actually have that precious book. It was M I N E. And I checked it every day in case while I wasn't looking, Mr. Sears added something to it and put it back in our hiding spot. I guess the closest thing my kids will ever get to experience to that almost religious experience is filling out an Amazon Wish List. (So not the same thing!)

So just a little over a month til the big day and this year I haven't even made out a list. Well, on paper anyway. I've got one in my head. (Santa: in case you've made your list, checked it twice and found out I'm nice), I'd love a Canon EF 50mm f/1.8 II camera lens, the Blue Dragonfly microphone, Romeo is Bleeding on DVD, some cool bookends or some Harajuku Lovers Perfume (Love, Angel or Baby since I already have Music). There is one thing I want more than all the rest, dear Santa, and that's to spend unlimited time with my very best friend in NY. Give me that and you can forget the rest.