Jenn & Chris

I grew up going out to my grandparents house in a small town called Portage La Prairie. It was a house full of love and one that was the home to the matriarch of my world, my Grandma.

She loved Christmas and it was tradition we would spend it with her. It brought her so much joy to have the family at one table (we are now at 3 tables since our family dinners have grown to 27) Our Christmas events were steeped in tradition complete with firecracker hats, cheese bites, pistachio salad, Rye & Cokes and The Crazy Game, a card game played at every family dinner. Our Christmas dinners were boisterous and loud and I can tell you a huge source of amusement when someone new came into the fold. Love you Babe.

As she got older (and as I did), I started to see how very important it was to her heart and to her soul to feel all that love around her at Christmas. Her family was everything and it was important to all of us to give her that happiness.

I am lost this year.

She passed away in August and I feel this sea of grief starting to creep over me these past few days. I realize now that so many of our Christmas traditions were because of her. While part of me feels excited with the possibility of creating new ones with my family, I ache for those old ones to bring her closer when she feels so far away.

I find myself reminiscing of Christmas past and trying to think of what traditions ring true to me as this whole new landscape lies ahead of us. Of all the things I value you about my Grandma, probably the most important one was how much of her character it was to help others.

I watched throughout my life as my grandma made fancy sandwiches, put on countless events, teas, whatever was necessary to support her community. To her, there was no question the importance of helping out. As a kid, we would help grandma serve at the local Odd fellows and Rebekkah’s Christmas tea in Portage La Prairie. It was a source of pride, as my cousins and I would take orders, bring the tea and coffee, serve dainties and then do performances for the residents. She loved our interpretative renditions of Footloose…really? for a bunch of seniors?…in fact she beamed with pride.

Helping others for us has become an essential thread in our world and we have been working with the kids on how to do more. One of our main focuses this year is the Peace Dove Project which has been a beautiful way to get kids creating ways to give back.

We’ve talked to the kids on how we can make other people’s lives better or easier. They have made us so proud as they went through their toys and clothes and this year we have done a hamper, a shoe box, are supporting a family in Barbados with kids with special needs, and donating more of our dollars to the Intrepid Foundation supporting the Village Education Project Kilimanjaro. Lolo especially won me over when she decided part of her tooth fairy money should be sent to Africa.

The tradition is a twist on my grandma’s but at the heart of it, its her legacy and her tradition that lives on in us.

Dad Says:

I don’t recall a lot of traditions as a child, not like Jenn does anyhow.  Honestly I have a bit of trouble getting up for holidays and the like, and I have no idea why.  No latent nightmares to account for it, I just get tired of the frenetic energy going around, like the world is spinning faster for no reason.

I have some early childhood memories of gold shag carpet and ornaments that would break if you looked at them wrong, special angels and opening one present only on Christmas eve.

My folks got divorced pretty early in life, and I don’t know what the arrangement was but I think my mom let chistmas day go as part of the deal.I remember that we would make our way to Grandma’s house, sometimes stopping for Chinese food on the way so as not to put additional strain on the system.  I remember homemade elves, an audible cardinal ornament that I can still mimic, and homemade sunshine sauce for desserts.

That experience evolved into my aunt taking over hosting duties, and that was a big hot mess.  Too many teens, too many people, it was otherworldly.  Like out of the next national lampoon christmas special, but filmed in zero gravity.  Just too much.

These days I fight to slow things down, to counter the overdrive that surrounds the holiday and to make sure that everyone finds their own peace on earth.  I think we could all use a bit of that in our stockings, no?

Mom Says:

I just finished a most positive Twitter Chat about advice. I could have used some advice today.

Today, I accompanied my son and his class on a field trip to a Pioneer Village.  At first, he didn’t want to go, caught in his literal mind that people have died in the past and that if he went he would die as well. (This is one of those “Autism quirks” I don’t quite understand. (Literal interpretations get him stuck and any kind of mention of death completely derails him.)

We talked it through and eventually he was excited about going. His teacher this year is epic. Kind. Respected. A perfect mix of gentle and firm. The enthusiasm of the class trip won over and we suddenly had an excited little man.

We had our usual challenges when we got there. Wandering, talking out of turn, changing the subject to suit him but for the most part he was excited and engaged.

After lunch, we had a chance to wander in our smaller group to explore. We ended up in the Blacksmith workshop. He was excited to watch and describe what the blacksmith was doing. (Giggles from a group from another school) Loudly, he asked the Blacksmith if he would be his friend. (Laughing from another school). He turned to the people beside him and said “Why are you laughing at me? (more laughs and mimicking voices). This went on for a couple of minutes. He would listen intently to what the Blacksmith had to say and then repeat “Will you be my friend?” Cue more giggles and Spence got hurt.

I didn’t know what to do.

My stomach felt like I got gut punched, my heart physically ached, my throat tight. I was desperate not to burst into tears and scream at all these kids about how much of an asshole they were being, how collectively their laughs felt cruel and sporty. I saw my son hurt and I was lost on how to make it better.

I took him aside and asked him how he was feeling.

OK? He looked so confused. He said “Mom, why were those kids laughing? They weren’t being very nice.” No they weren’t and for him, it was that simple. But it affected him and for the rest of the trip he struggled. Lost from how mean they were and struggling to understand. So was I.

Dad says:

I get all this second hand, but it arrives just as I am working to finalize arrangements to go to our first Maple Leafs game. Me and my son, at a hockey game. All that said, it was amazing, but that ain’t this post.  I want hunt those kids down.  I want to destroy their grade 4 experience. I don’t because I’m better than that. But I don’t want to be.

I talk through the experience with Spence.  He is elusive, but we get to the point.  There are jerks in the world, and sometimes they enter ours.  You just need to point it out, turn your back, and move on.

I need to own up here.  I don’t think I ever, in any seriousness, excluded or hurt people for being different in any way.  Race or colour was never an issue I can be sure, but if there was ever a chance at a joke I took it, and I am damn sure I didn’t think of anyone’s feelings in pursuit of the punch line.  And I am honestly, completely sorry.  I didn’t know, or extend a thought outside my own little world.  It wasn’t vindictive, but I am sure it hurt someone who didn’t deserve it, and I am sorry for that. I can’t change the past, but I am so aware of what the future feels like.

A good friend once told me that the one thing you didn’t realize you had so much of until kids is Guilt and Fear. Today, was a tough day. Today, we experienced both. It was awful. I look forward to figuring out how to conquer the mean and move on.