I Saw Mommy Being Santa Claus

This year I'm not going home in the traditional sense--I'm meeting my family in the San Francisco Bay Area. Usually I go to Washington State where my Mom, Step-dad and brother live, but even when I go up there it isn't the childhood home I grew up in like it is for my brother. It's the house they bought a couple of years after I graduated high school. While I was growing up, we lived with my grandparents in North Pole, Ak, in a haunted house near Stanford University, an apartment in Palo Alto, CA, a duplex in Cupertino, CA, a large apartment in Anacortes, WA, and then a house down the street from that apartment. My roots didn't lie with the location or environment where I lived but rather with the one person that was always there at Christmas. No, not Santa. My Mom.

She was my Santa growing up...and it wasn't difficult to figure out Santa's true identity either. All of the presents she pretended were from Santa were in the same exact handwriting as my mother's, the stockings were filled weeks before Christmas, evidence of the cookies and milk I set out for Santa on Christmas Eve were seen in the trash and the sink, and unwrapped presents were often "hidden" in really obvious places like the linen closet where bath towels were kept. I really wanted to believe in Santa just like all my friends did. She just made it really hard.

When I was seven, I sat on Santa's lap and secretly asked him for something I knew my Mom could afford: a leaf. It was free and could be taken from any tree or even off the ground, so if I found a leaf wrapped under the tree or in my stocking then Santa could actually be real. Of course I didn't find it, and that's when I knew for sure. I continued to play along, however. I didn't want my Mom to feel that she was doing a shoddy job as Santa...she had enough to worry about as a single mother.

When my brother got to the age that my Mom felt he needed to discover that Santa wasn't real (I seriously think he was 10 or 11), she read him a book from the library about the very first St.Nicolas. In this book Santa dies...and my brother was so distraught that my Mom decided she would write him a letter pretending it was from Santa and telling him he was actually still alive. Alive in our hearts. This left my brother completely confused.

As I embark upon another Christmas, I know I don't have a home to go back to but I do know I'll have the feeling of home when I see the petite blond Santa I've always known. A mother that saved her change in a big jar all year long so that I would have a few presents under the tree. A mother who puff painted the names of all my favorite golden age movie stars on a mint green sweatshirt. A mother who sewed me a velveteen rabit when I fell in love with that children's story. A mother who says all year long, "maybe for Christmas" anytime my brother and I ever mention anything we are wanting. The fact that we are both adults now does not deter her from trying to fill our hearts with hope. She may have been one of the worst Santa Claus impersonators out there, but her mothering skills made up for what some may see as a flaw and I see as sweetly humorous memories.



Mama Santa actually collects Santa figurines :)



Mama Santa telling me "Maybe for Christmas..."

Christmas Childhood Crafts

In my youth I always loved the activities leading up to Christmas just as much as the day itself. When my 4th grade teacher passed out the tissue thin book order form a couple months before Christmas Break, I made sure I got the Christmas craft book so that I could improve my decorating that year of my Mom and my apartment. There were directions on how to make a snow globe, a pine cone Christmas tree, a sock snowman, a clothes pin reindeer ornament and many other creative challenges. I did them all. Being a latch key kid, I had lots of time to spare, and in that time Christmas movies were watched, treats were baked and art projects were done. There was a new decoration everyday for my Mom to come home to.

Although crafts no longer cover the walls and tables of my apartment, I haven't changed all that much. I still have an obsession with art projects, and absolutely love knowing that I have something sweet baking in the oven. The little boy I babysit celebrates Hanukkah, but I saw that as no reason to not introduce him to the innocent joy of holiday activities. In fact, I saw him as an excuse to return to the Christmas preparation of my childhood. Instead of making a pine cone Christmas tree, however, we made dreidels out of clay and instead of making rolled out sugar cookies of Santa hats and trees, we used star cookie cutters. He had so much fun partaking in the art and baking projects that I couldn't help but feel grateful for all the childhood hours of practice I clocked in back in the eighties. Perhaps tomorrow we will take on snowflakes...

Vintage Tip Tuesday XXIII

There are some awful Christmas movies out there hoping to be watched on Netflicks. Christmas With the Kranks, Surviving Christmas, Fred Claus, The Santa Claus trilogy (I just can't buy Tim Allen as Santa), Home Alone 3 which didn't even star Macaulay Culkin, Joe Pesci or Daniel Stern, The Grinch Who Stole Christmas with Jim Carey, Santa With Muscles starring Hulk Hogan, and most if not all of the Hallmark Chanel made for TV movies. All of these films tried to copy successful ideas of the past that didn't work once replicated. They cheapen the holiday by choosing to try and make a buck with a recycled storyline or theme as opposed to embarking on something original. Films like It's A Wonderful Life and Miracle on 34th Street were courageous movies back in the 1940's. The first dealt with suicide and the latter addressed mental illness. Neither of these films were huge box office hits the year they came out and their thought provoking plots caused critics to feel divided on weather they were worth even seeing. Now these two films are the quintessential films seen across the country during this Christmas season.   In the eighties, A Christmas Story and National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation came out and audiences are still cracking up. Only one movie has ever dared to state the real reason of the season, however. Everytime I watch this film I am instantly reminded that all the outward hustle and bustle of the holidays is not what Christmas is all about. It's not about belting out Christmas tunes, buying and opening gifts, watching the tree lighting, gliding around the ice on skates, decorating your place with lights and dazzle or even baking cookies. This film that offers up the real reason is the 1965 cartoon A Charlie Brown Christmas.

 In his search for the true meaning of Christmas, Charlie Brown knew only one thing: no one in his life was understanding the real reason we celebrate Christmas. The entire peanuts gang had fallen into the trap of commercialism, and it was Linus that finally set them all straight with his bold but kind explanation.

 My tip for this week is to watch this children's holiday classic. Even if you watch nothing else, take time to watch this one. It's not meant to get you pumped up for the chaotic Christmas shopping experience or increase your urge to host a holiday party. It is, however, a message that has the ability to strike a chord.

Inspirational Icon Monday: Donna Reed

It's A Wonderful Life is a film that has consistently kept a spot on my own personal "Top 5 Films of All Time" list (the others include: The Godfather, The Godfather Part II, Lars and the Real Girl and Amelie) since I was nine. My Mom had me watch the entire 3.5 hour film beginning to end, and I thought it was the most beautiful movie about friendship. I probably watched it three times every Christmas season as a child...at least. I've caught onto different aspects of this film as I've gotten older though. I suppose that's what makes a great film.

Everyone always concentrates on the character of George Bailey, but his wife Mary was just as kind and just as sacrificial as her husband if not more so. She patiently waited for George to get past his aversion to marriage, and then willingly suggested they give up their honeymoon and their wedding money to save the Bailey family business. She chose to live in an "old abandoned drafty house" with her new husband fixing it up as nicely as she possibly could. When the war hit, she volunteered her time as a nurse on top of her motherly and wifely duties. Mary loved George, Bedford Falls, their house, their children, their friends. Everything about their life. Unlike her, George lived in a state of discontent and when his eyes were opened to the truth that success is not found in a high-powered job, through education or because of travel experiences. When he recognized that he was successful because he had a steadfast wife, children that adored him and faithful friends, he was finally able to give the "wonderful life" Mary deserved. 

Donna Reed, although a woman that had the difficult task of balancing motherhood with marriage, work, and charity involvement, didn't possess the almost impossibly angelic wifely patience of her character in It's A Wonderful Life. She went through three marriages, had four children, won an Academy Award for Best Supporting Actress in 1953 for From Here to Eternity, wnet onto star in The Donna Reed Show, but then went onto entered into extreme career lows when she sued the nighttime eighties soap Dallas for firing her.Through her highs and lows, I'm confident she felt thankful for having the chance to prosper as well as triumph through trials. After already taking her seat on a plane in January 1945 when she was just 24 years old, Reed was bumped off when a military officer needed her seat--a seat on a plane that would crash in Burbank, CA and kill everyone on board. She was granted a miracle that day. She got to live her own wonderful life...and we got to see her play the perfect wife, mother, neighbor and friend every Christmas season.

Donna Reed and I both going classic black.

Christmas Cooking, Chile and Chatter

This month I have been filling my kitchen chairs Sunday afternoons with friends I've had for a few years as well as friends I've had for a few weeks. I happen to love hosting, cooking, baking, and welcoming people into my little apartment. I myself love walking into my place at the end of a day and experiencing its charming warmth...I want others to feel that too.

It's been surprising in a way to watch certain people's reactions when I ask them to join me for a homemade lunch at my apartment. They often don't seem to know what to think of my invite. I suppose that in L.A., people don't hang out in homes and expecially not homes with home cooked meals and the aroma of pies baking in the oven. People go out--out to dinner, out for drinks, out to see and be seen. Being in a home is almost considered old-fashioned here. I saw their discomfort in being asked to go somewhere outside their normal routine. Not an opportunity for adventure, but an opportunity to be comforted with food and get to know some new people.

This last Sunday I had five guests that said "yes" to pumpkin chile, cornbread and homemade apple pie with vanilla ice-cream. I prepared all of Saturday by paring the apples, mixing and rolling out dough, slicing vegetables for the chile...and discovering through the dicing of an onion that I'm extremely allergic to the fumes they let out (not just the normal reaction of teared up eyes, but puffy bright red irritated eyes that lasted more than two days.) Besides this allergic reaction, I thoroughly enjoyed knowing that I was going to fill the bellies with the lost gift of homemade food rarely offered in this city. As everyone was leaving, one of my guests suggested we do this again. I couldn't help but hope that perhaps I've started a new trend...

Christmas chips

Christmas pumpkin chile

Christmas cornbread

Christmas tree apple pie

Week one with Alex and Gus



Chatting with Alex.



Christmas cocktails 

Week 2: Chatter with Audrey, Sarah and Josh.

More chatter with Sarah, Josh, Audrey and Matt.

If only there wasn't the clean up afterward...