On the Second Day of Christmas...

Following in the footsteps of AmyJane, I bring you our wacky family holiday traditions!

Christmas Eve
Every year on Christmas Eve night, we, the Provo branch of the family would trek to our cousin’s house (the Orem branch) for an evening o’ fun. Every year ran pretty much exactly the same. Here’s the run-down:

We’d arrive and de-coat ourselves. Those of us (which was pretty much all of us) who were holding various food items would drop them off in the kitchen, after which we’d come thisclose to ruining our appetite for dinner by chowing down on cheeseball and crackers and delicious spinach dip. When dinner was ready, we’d feast again, only this time on homemade clam chowder, jell-o salad, rolls, cold ham, and more crackers and cheeseball. It all tasted absolutely fabulous, though I have to admit it took me many years to warm up to the taste of clam chowder.

After dinner, the cousins excused themselves (loudly) to head upstairs for rehearsal. You see, every year, in a meager attempt to bring out the true meaning of Christmas in our festivities, we kids would put on the nativity. Only for us, it was called the “nay-tivity.” My oldest cousin, Devi, until she got married, usually played the part of director. It was a tough job, and I didn’t envy her for it, though I did at times wish that it involved less yelling. We squabbled over who got what random items from the dress-up clothes bin, and then there was always the major decision of who got to play Mary. After a few years, we sort of just fell into the same roles: my cousin, Julie, and I became angels, and my youngest sister, Chelsea, played Mary. The role of Joseph switched back and forth between my brothers Scott and Riley, and my cousin, Garrett. Sister Katie and Cousin Lacey played shepherdesses. And Tyler – oh, man, Tyler – he played all three wisemen. It was a crack-up because in costume he usually looked more like a fat traveling salesman. Uncle Barry was given the Bible as was the official narrator; the rest of adults played Audience Members. Backstage (at the top of the stairs over the living room), Devi ushered us (rather loudly) out to the “stage” when it was our cue, and the nay-tivity began. Our performance invariably turned into a very irreverent spectacle, but it was fun to do.

After the nay-tivity, we’d all stay in the living room where we’d then begin the Annual Family Talent Show. There’d be a few Christmas piano recital pieces played by the Provo branch as well as Devi and Garrett. Julie would play her flute, and Lacey would grace us with her violin (or was it viola?). And then Tyler – oh, man, Tyler – would pull out all the stops and juggle while reciting the first 100 digits of pi from memory. One year he attempted to recite them backwords, and once in Spanish. Hilarious, I tell you!

If there was a Christmas dessert to be eaten (and there usually was), it was eaten after the Talent Show. Then my parents would begin shooing us towards the car – after all, we had to be in bed in order for Santa to make a visit. But before we could leave, we had to dance. It began with just a rousing rendition of the “Merry Christmas Polka,” but later the Orem branch choreographed a ridiculously hilarious “Nutcracker” dance, which they taught us, and which our parents won’t let us get away with not doing anymore – mostly because they like to laugh at how silly we look. (And yes, we look very silly.)

And then it was over. Time to put shoes and coats back on and load up into the car. Oh, what a wild ride our Christmas Eve’s at the cousin's house always were! Every year a small thing or two would crop up and sneak it’s way into the tradition (though, thankfully, the little accident when Garrett kicked Lacey in the chin during a dance number did not become an annual thing). But it was always fun. I missed it last year, seeing as Blake and I were living it up in Indiana instead, and we’ll miss it this year because we’ll be hanging out in sunny San Antonio (well, I’ll miss it – Blake hasn’t actually yet witnessed a Christmas Eve with us…I know…he’s so deprived!). Kind of sad – but the memories built up will hold me over, I’m sure. J

New Year’s Eve
To continue the novel I’m apparently writing today, let me tell you about the New Year’s Eve traditions. This time the Orem cousins would come to our house. By the time New Year’s rolled around, the giddy excitement of Christmas had kind of worn off, only to be replaced by the dread of going back to school, so our celebrations, though very fun, were not as wild. Once the cousins arrived, we visited for a while (and by “visited,” I totally mean “showed off our Christmas presents”). Soon, though, the fixings for all-you-can-eat banana splits would be pulled out and we’d all eat our fill – several times over. Armed with ice cream, the female cousins (who were all hopeless romantics, I might add) would head to the basement to watch that silly musical version of The Little Matchgirl I mentioned yesterday. For the first few years, our romantic selves got totally sucked in, but eventually the novelty wore off, and it became more fun to watch the film and make fun of it the whole way through.

After the film, my cousins sadly had to leave. The last few years, they’d leave to go home and do fireworks and bang pots. Sometimes we’d go with them, and that was always a treat – we didn’t think fireworks were possible without the bounds of the 4^th of July! At the stroke of midnight we’d bang our pots and scream really loud, and then we Provo cousins would get taken home where we’d crash after a long holiday of festivities.

All right, so those are the holiday traditions I grew up with. Well, the main ones anyway. I guess I could tell you how on Christmas morning we weren’t allowed into the living room until everyone was up and how, once we were, we had to file in youngest to oldest (although, once my brothers started getting much taller than me, this was switched to from shortest to tallest). I could tell you about our annual Christmas breakfast of those single-serving sugar cereals and tangerines that Santa left in our stockings. But this post is long enough. And there are ten more days of Christmas left (not that I’ll have time to post something every day of Christmas, so don’t get your hopes up…but I will give you what I can.)

Merry Christmas!