The Southwest Voice

I will not repeat the chaos of last Christmas. This year I will take time to enjoy the sights and sounds of the season. 

Last year on the night before the night before the night before Christmas, everyone and everything was stirring –– I’m not sure about the mice. Things were out of control. Shopping was almost done (but not quite), groceries were almost bought (but not quite), and it all came crashing down on me! 

I looked in the mirror and saw the lines under my eyes, the wrinkles around my mouth and a bunch of gray hairs standing straight up at the top of my head like a silver crown gone awry. 

I dashed to the drugstore and bought what was described as “Lively Brown.” I could go for that, that’s for sure. My brown could use a little “lively.” 

Staring at me from another shelf was something called “frosted peach,” touting “vitamin-E and wrinkle decrease.” Determined to “decrease the creases,” I dropped it in the shopping cart. It even bragged that the Vitamin E would "give your skin a boost.” OK, no doubt a boost to the skin would be a good thing! 

Off to the house, youth enhancers in tow. I figured I had just about enough time before everyone arrived for the traditional “night before the night before the night before” dinner. 

I put some “No Peek Stew” in the oven early in the afternoon. (It’s not hard. All it is is stew with a lid on it and you bake it forever at a low temperature. Well, maybe not forever! It can overcook and then you’d have gravy with nothing to put it on.) 

This is traditionally the first glimpse at what might be under the Christmas tree, and the grandchildren are always wired to the max! 

I hopped in the shower to revive the body and do the hair thing!

The “lively brown” was “percolating” and in the middle of its mysterious activity when the phone rang. It was a neighbor who wanted to borrow some Jell-O molds. I couldn’t accommodate her. My Jell-O molds were filled with paper clips, tacks, pennies and old rubber bands from the newspaper and I didn’t have time to clean them out.  (Why do I keep those things? Is it genetic? My parents did the same thing.) I notice my daughter doesn’t save rubber bands, tacks and paper clips. She comes to my house and raids my stash! I’m glad the gene pool skipped her on that one.      

By now the lively brown and frosted peach had almost worked overtime.  It was hard to tell what smelled worse –– the No Peek Stew that smelled like I’d better peek or the lively brown that had obviously “sunk in.” Or could it be the frosted peach, which had the aroma of a rotten peach?

I turned the oven off, rinsed my hair like there was no tomorrow and washed my face. I plugged in the hair dryer and pointed it at my mangled hair. Talk about lively brown! Well, who cares? The whole family was due in an hour and they never notice me, anyhow! All the grandchildren want to know is if there is anything for dinner that they like and what’s under the Christmas tree. My daughter and son-in-law usually walk in discussing the family schedule and don’t see or hear a thing. They don’t even see me. No one notices the Christmas decorations that cover every space possible except for the sofa and chairs. My son sits down and turns on the TV. His wife reads a book she brought along and the grandchildren sit and stare at the Christmas tree hoping for x-ray vision if they stare at the packages long enough! 

I’m telling you, they do not know I exist. 

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door and my son said, “Mom!  What in the world happened to your hair?” 

Here I am, surrounded by beautiful Christmas decorations and the tree absolutely loaded with lights and ornaments, and he asks about my hair! 

“Nothing happened to my hair.  Do you like the tree?”  

He rolled his eyes at his wife and said, “And what in the world is that smell? I know it’s not apple crisp. It smells like rotten peaches.” 

I claimed innocence about the smell and then pouted for sympathy.  “No one ever notices me,” I whined, “and now that something is wrong, all you can do is criticize.” 

All of a sudden I was completely surrounded by arms and legs and hot breath and cold hands belonging to grandchildren ranging from ages 5 to 16. They were giving me a group hug.

My oldest granddaughter said, “Oh, Grammy, you look so beautiful.  Dad shouldn’t be so mean to you. I like your hair and once you wash it some of that color will come out. It will fade. Honest. Take it from one who knows, Grammy. It will take two washes and you’ll be fine. And if you want, I could put some streaks in it. It won’t take long. We could do it after dinner!” She looked at her cousin and said, “I can streak yours, too!” 

I felt better already until my son said, “If you didn’t make apple crisp, life is not worth living, I don’t care how beautiful she thinks you look.  And trust me, you don’t want her to put streaks in your hair. She streaked her sister’s hair three weeks ago and they haven’t spoken since.” 

I glanced at my granddaughter and she did resemble a skunk, but I just smiled and told her I thought she looked cute and she shouldn’t be mad at her big sister!

The girls stomped off to look under the tree and the 5-year-old boys just hung onto me like they thought maybe I was going to die on the spot! 

That was last year. This is now. I will enjoy the wonders of the season.  I will be a good mom and grandma and make apple crisp! It doesn’t really matter what color my hair is and I know that. What really matters is that the holiday celebrations with family and friends include the gifts of loving hugs and mutual delight in the season. Hug someone you love and exclaim over a beautifully decorated tree. This time of year opportunities are all around for happy moments and lots of hugs. 

Merry Christmas!