When I was little, my parents and I didn’t really celebrate Christmas. Sure, we had a short plastic Christmas tree (with very sparse-looking branches) that we would erect in one corner of the house, but I don’t recall there actually being Christmas presents under it. In fact, I’m sure that as I got older, that rather sad-looking tree with its sparse-looking branches got replaced by an even smaller tree that sat on top of our piano.
Without other relatives here in Australia to get together with, Christmas day would often pass just like any other day – except that dad would have new underwear and socks to wear because somehow mum always managed to convince me that they were the best presents to buy him. (Plus, Rio always did a fabulous six pack that Big W would stock year after year.)
Mind you, it’s not that we thought Christmas was a silly season. We simply weren’t a family that was religiously or culturally inclined to make a big deal out of Christmas – after all, we had to save our energy (and money) for Chinese New Year which was always just inconspicuously lurking around the corner.
One year, however, I took part in a Christmas carol service in Darling Harbour with other kids from school, and I went home with a compilation of sheet music for all the well-loved Christmas carols. That particular Christmas Eve, I sat down at our piano and played all my favourites like ‘Silent Night’ and ‘Away in a Manager’ and, of course, the token Santa ones like ‘Jingle Bells’ and ‘You Better Watch Out’ whilst singing out loud (not in tune, I’m sure) with much fervour and gusto in full view of the tiny Christmas tree that stood no taller than a 1L Coke bottle.
In hindsight, I think that was my first real ‘Christmassy’ moment: singing and playing Christmas carols on the piano all by myself whilst my parents continued to watch their Chinese soap on the television. (Though it could have been Die Hard. Or Die Hard again. Dad was a Willis fan.)
Rick and I have now been married for six and a half years and, to our shame, we still haven’t come close to buying a Christmas tree. We’ve kept telling ourselves (and each other) that once we’re in a house, and once we have kids, we’ll get one. A good one too (ie. one that can sing, dance, bake, cook, clean and mind the kids for us – wait, that’s just my subconscious talking about the nanny that I wish I had).
Well, my friends, that time has come. We’re in a lovely house that can definitely accommodate a taller-than-a-Coke-bottle tree, and we now have two gorgeous little boys at home, with another due to pop out in the new year. There is simply no excuse this year for not making our home a bit more festive and a bit more ‘Christmassy.’ I mean, I want the boys to have fond childhood memories of Christmas after all – or at the very least, I’ll have photos that I can show them when they’re older as proof that we were one of those families who tried to make Christmas ‘Christmassy.’
So I think we’ll start with getting a Christmas tree. Then the ornaments. And the fairy lights. I might even go a bit crazy and buy (not sew) a Christmas stocking or two. Maybe.
There’ll be no baking mince pies though, mind you. I mean, let’s not be unrealistic. If I’m not even driven enough to bake my child’s first birthday cake, then I’m hardly going to be attempting a baking recipe that involves pastry and mincing fruit.
Anyway, who needs to bake when you can easily buy all sorts of baked goodies these days. Bakers Delight actually sent us some fruit mince tarts and lemon tarts to try for free last week, and they were a hit with us all. Rick, who admittedly has a weakness for anything involving sugar and pastry around Christmas time, went so far as to use his extensive linguistic talents to describe the lemon tarts as “lemony” and the fruit tarts as “fruity.” And while common sense dictates that you’re probably not meant to give your two year old fruit mince pies to eat, I (devilishly) managed to bribe Angus to eat more of his pasta dinner on Saturday night than on any other occasion by offering him a mouthful of the fresh pie pastry between every mouthful of pasta. Evil (but ingenious) mum am I.
The point is that whatever ‘Christmassy’ memories the boys will have when they’re older, watching their mother bake Christmas puddings and mince pies in the kitchen just ain’t going to be one of them. And I’m okay with that. And I’m sure they will be too (once I’ve managed to teach them all about the benefits of outsourcing).
Anyway, may the ‘Christmassy’ fun begin. First up: tree.
p.s. Bakers Delight also sent me some free vouchers to give away so if you would like to try a 6 pack of their fruit mince or lemon tarts for free, just leave a comment below and ‘like’ this post on Facebook.
