I made a decision this year that I was not going to be bound to the traditions of previous years. When my kids were younger, we alternated Christmas Eve/Christmas Day, drove to my mom’s for dinner – one year with the kids and the next year without. I’ve never particularly liked this routine. This year I asked mom to come to our house and spend the night.

We spent a quiet Christmas together with our free ham and some salad and veg, because the previous plan – to pick up Mexican food on Christmas Eve to be eaten the next day – was kiboshed ….by the Mexican restaurant. They were closed.

We settled into the living room and watched the latest Knives Out movie and I’m still trying to wrap my brain around Daniel Craig’s transformation from buff Bond to ordinary aged man with a southern lilt and … that hair. Anyhoo, we had cocktails and I fell asleep and later woke up at 3 a.m. under my new throw wondering WTF happened.

Todd always says he told me he was going to bed and that I acknowledged him. I’m not 100% sure I believe him. I think he just sneaks off like a ninja and prays I don’t wake up. He can be a ninja now because he’s lost forty pounds but he spent the entire day yesterday putting up a carport and now he’s sore and moving a little less nimbly.

At this point I would like to mention that I gave up alcohol 60 days ago. I made this choice both to lose weight and to lower my cholesterol. I have been very successful with the former. For the latter, time will tell. I decided to have a martini on Christmas night. I’m glad I did because I can confidently report that I have zero interest in drinking again.

It’s been interesting. I went to the restaurant to see mom Friday a week ago while Todd bowled. This is a risky endeavor during the holiday season, given business is brisk and there are many caterings. I arrived and she was sitting with a couple I know well but don’t see very often. Mom got up and came to hug me and sit with me at the bar. Mary jumped up and pulled me into a hearty Irish hug. I don’t know what an Irish hug is but if ever there WAS one, our feisty and outspoken Mary has singlehandedly invented it.

Going to the restaurant is a gamble on any given night – there are so many interruptions and people who HAVE to greet my mother, not to mention being forever rendered to the back burner of service by sheer virtue of being “family.” We know that if we choose to eat there we should expect to be there until hell freezes over. Okay, not really, but I do feel there’s a certain level of – or lack of – urgency or care when it comes to Todd and me.

So, back to the bar. Mom and I are sitting there when a couple walked in and the woman rushed over to her and greeted her with a hug and a kiss. THEN she looked at me – a woman she’s never met and has no idea who I am – says, “oh what the heck, I’ll kiss you too!”  and planted one on the side of my face before I even knew what was happening. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

I cringed because I knew what was coming next, because Mom will then introduce me as her “one and only” and THEN more gushing will usually ensue. More touching and OMGs and so on. After she and husband (who thankfully was not also the huggy-gushy kind) I said to mom, was she pregaming or is she always like that?

There followed a handful of people who passed and thanked her for a wonderful evening without so much as a glance at me and that’s exactly how I like it. Except for one woman who stopped to chat and then repeatedly stroked my arm after learning my identity and I just wanted to say, “will you stop touching me!” Yes, I am daughter, but I am also 56 years old. I am not a child.

There may also be a misconception, as my mom kisses and hugs EVERYONE, that perhaps I am a chip off the affection block. I am NOT. Don’t touch me. There IS an important distinction for my friends and family to understand – I DO like hugging YOU. But if we’ve just met – do not attempt. Also, I do not kiss anyone but Todd. And I really don’t like when anyone kisses me.

A friend of mine at the bowling alley ran up and hugged me from behind and THAT’s okay because I know her and I’m good. When I mentioned the incident at the restaurant I quickly clarified I did NOT mean her. There was a friend who used to bowl in the league years ago that enacted “drive-by smooches” and that became a funny and expected thing and THAT was okay. Women, mind you. Men could not pull that off without getting hurt.

So the day after Christmas started out slow. I put coffee on and decided to bake banana bread with a bunch of bananas well past their prime. Mom came and sat at the island and said, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, as if to chastise me for doing anything. But she cut the first slice.

I left her in the kitchen because she was listening to loud Tik Tok videos on her phone and I prefer peaceful, quiet mornings. I’m afraid she’s losing her hearing like Mom-mom did and when I told her last Friday night that she should try hearing aids (after she said “what?” too many times) she told me she DOES have them. WTF? Why aren’t you wearing them?! (Because you have to wear them a little bit each time to get acclimated and that seems like too much to ask.)

Anyway, Todd was outside early attempting to lift the carport and literally only had two people to help (versus the FIVE the instructions say you need) – one of whom was late as usual. The third guy couldn’t get out of work so Todd said he might need someone to hand him things and I surmised that that someone was going to be me. In 27-degrees. (Spoiler: I didn’t have to.)

I did more decorating than in the previous five years but did so a little bit over time. The mantle on Black Friday. That weekend the main tree with help from niecelet. Tabletop tree that was on the dining room table until I made my holiday centerpiece using a pool noodle ON CHRISTMAS DAY. Last weekend I put up the pencil tree in the basement – first time since 2019 there’s been a tree there. We’re having friends for NYE so I felt it would be nice.

I was going to skip baking this year but niecelet pinned me down on one of my days off and so we baked until I collapsed. Cookie baking day was a tradition at my Nana’s – a tradition I wanted to carry on. My aunt and I would decorate the cut-out cookies and she would always make a few of the Santas anatomically exposed. A pair of cherries on top and brown jimmies on the bottom – you get the picture. Niecelet has upped this tradition to x-rated penis cookies and I must say she is very gifted artistically.

Neph was here last weekend to celebrate Todd’s birthday and I pulled out the menorah for him as I expected he would want to use it. I guess I didn’t know that the menorah is meant to burn until the candles go out and now there’s candle wax on my Christmas tablecloth but this is what memories are for and so I’m happy.

[EDIT] TL:DL – I’m sorry you want a brief synapsis but I’m too lazy today to write one.