Pre-Navidad, 2017

Whether we were ready or not, Christmas Eve arrived--and with it, one tradition that the boys and I keep: attending church together. This year, since the 24th actually fell on a Sunday, I gave them a choice of which service they'd prefer...and they surprised me by selecting our regular 11:15 slot, rather than the evening option. I didn't ask why, but I inferred that they liked the idea of having the rest of the day free for...I don't know, "boy shenanigans"....and whatnot. It also amused me that Derek asked, "Should we dress a little more formally for Christmas Eve?" I hadn't even considered that, but I agreed it seemed like a solid plan.

However, I totally forgot to follow up on it, which is why we set out for the whole "celebrating the birth of Jesus" event with Derek clad in one of his trademark clashing ensembles, consisting of green/grey athletic shorts, paired with a screaming crimson USCB Sand Sharks tee, all covered by a University of South Carolina hoodie. Sigh...at least the other one took the initiative to don his nice charcoal semi-fancy shorts...and Penn State shirt. But hey, I'm firmly of the opinion that God doesn't care how we look...just that we're present, and participating!

Although...I should probably add "and also paying attention", because when it came time for the closing song, which is always a candlelit Silent Night, the pastor gave specific instructions, "The candles that are already burning stay upright, while the next person in the row touches their unlit wick to the flame, and so on." Sounds extraordinarily efficient, safe, and simple, yeah? So what does Derek do? Immediately tilts his fiery, dripping candle over towards Riley, completely contrary to directions. (I swear, you really can't take them ANYWHERE...)

Anyway, it's fortunate that we get to hear some quality Christmas music sung and played by the very talented praise band at our church, because we've reached that point in the season when I've officially turned the corner on the radio's rotation of holiday tunes, and now turn them off as frequently as I actually listen to and enjoy them. Case in point: I've been heard lately to yell, "Aaarrrgh! Feliz Navi-DON'T!" as I punch the button to change the station. Or to I argue with my empty car, "Seriously, who decided that just because of the title, Last Christmas should be played at this time of year. Over. And. Over? And to the artists who keep remaking it? STOP, okay? (For the love of all things holy...)

So in my defiance, I'd been playing a Tchaikovsky CD while driving, instead...and when I turned it on after church, Riley facetiously commented, "Ooh, I love this song!" I scoffed in reply, "Do you even know what it IS?" This was mostly rhetorical, but he answered anyway, in an extremely uncertain tone "Um...the 1812 Overture!" I was about to concede that it was, in fact, a nice try, when Derek decided to take a stab in the dark and exclaimed, "No...it's The Nutcracker!"

Wow...well done! However, I decided to press my luck by asking, "Okay...which part?" With mock outrage, Derek sputtered, "Whattya mean? It's all just...The Nutcracker!" Unwilling go let him off the hook so easily, I prompted, "The most famous part of the whole composition....?" After a looooong pause, Derek responded, questioningly, "Dance of the Sugarplum Fairies?" Ding ding ding! Before I could be proud of his...minuscule knowledge of classical composers, Derek continued, "Yeah, about that...can someone explain to me why there are fairies in this thing?"

So I gamely began attempting to describe the plot...but quickly realized that--even having seen the stage version in person--somehow I don't really seem to have a grasp of the story. "Well, there's this girl, and...lots of dancing...and...I think the whole thing's a dream...maybe?" Derek interrupted, "Hold on--is the villain...a mouse?" I was relieved that he remembered that salient point, "YES! That's right, there are overgrown rodents...with swords, and they battle the Nutcracker, and...oh, I don't really know. But there's glorious music, and majestic ballet dancing."  'Nuff said, right? (In retrospect, it wasn't a terribly productive conversation, but it wasn't a lengthy trip, either, so it got us home...without having to suffer through any choral travesties sung by Chipmunks...)

Later in the evening, for a heartwarming family bonding experience, I proposed taking a jaunt around the Chapel Hill/Carrboro neighborhoods to admire all of the houses adorned for the merry December festivals 'o everything. This was vetoed by the oldest teenager, however, who for some reason protested leaving the house. Instead, he backed the alternative agenda: lounging on the couch and watching a classic DVD from our collection (on second thought, it's pretty clear why he'd vote for this no-energy-required activity). Derek even picked the show: Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

Alrighty, then, let's fire up the electronic device that we turn on exactly once a year! But first....let's try to remember which "input" we need to set for the TV. And change the batteries in the remote, since they're apparently no longer functioning. Okay! We're ready! Bring on the beloved childhood entertainment! Aaaannnnd the program did start...in SPANISH. What. The. WHAT?

Try as we might, we were utterly unable to make it switch back to our mother tongue...and while we found it somewhat funny-yet-exasperating to listen to the Burl Ives snowman narrate in rapid-fire Espanol, we agreed that the limited appeal was going to wear off for us in about 5 minutes. Therefore we eventually gave up, and moved on to the Backup Plan: A Muppet Family Christmas (which is secretly MY all-time fave, so...WIN! But I promise I didn't intentionally hijack the ridiculous DVD player! We're just keeping our fingers crossed that the rebellious reindeer behaves, the next time we try...)

Afterwards, chock full of the holiday spirit, or what have you, we attempted to convince Riley that there was still time to fit in the illuminated tour of the surrounding towns, but his instant, emphatic response was "Dude, I'm knackered!" Yep, too much British soccer--sorry, "football"--viewing, wouldn't you agree? (I suppose he's good for now, but if he starts referring to us as "blokes", I'll have to think about shutting it down...)

Finally, there was only one more thing to do before our "long Winter's nap"...of course, I'm talking about the charming process of "negotiating a wake-up-and-open-gifts" time. Now, when the boys were little, this involved stern warnings to NOT bother Mom and Dad before, say, 7 a.m. But these days it's more along the lines of "Derek, we WILL be dragging you out of your warm, cozy bed, the only question is "how early"?

Just to see what his reaction would be--and to crack myself up, I'm not gonna lie--I informed him that 8:00 sounded about right. He gaped at me, horrified and praying he'd heard me wrong. "What? WHY?" He couldn't imagine what was so important that we had to disturb his precious adolescent slumber: "C'mon, Dad asked for grill matches! And what did Riley even want, again?" His brother brightly interjected, "Well, I did tell Mom I needed a new foot-scrubber-thingie, since she threw mine out. I really hope there's one under the tree!" Not to be left out of the super-fun "torture Derek" moment, Husband tacked on, "Just think, Riley, maybe she got you a really special one, that hangs up in the shower, and everything!" Derek's threw up his hands in truly melodramatic fashion and barked, "Let me get this straight, you people are really gonna get me up early...for a loofah on a hook?"

Whew, that was a delightful interlude, I tell ya. Nothing quite says Christmas like giving the kids a hard time, amiright? This went on for a few more minutes, but after I'd gotten him to agree to a firm 9:15, I relented and assured him he could take his time and emerge from his hibernation at the customarily accepted 10:00. After all, this would afford me plenty of quiet time in the morning to sip my coffee while kicking back in front of ye olde tannenbaum with some carols...or maybe even give one more shot at sorting out our little scarlet-schnoz latino friend...Rudolpho. Peace out, and ho ho ho, y'all!