My Favorite Holiday Memories

by Diane Alberts

Christmas is about family, and love. Enjoying those closest to you, and spending quality time together. Of course, in all of that warm mushy-stuff, something notable always happens. Here are some lessons everyone should know, learned by me over the years:

Don’t stuff yourself: One Thanksgiving, my husband had just finished stuffing himself full at dinner, and needed to go to work at 11pm. My whole family was over, and we were playing poker. He sat down on the ground to put his shoes on, and we all heard a loud rip. Everyone froze, and turned to face him. Yup, he literally ate so much he burst out of his pants. I’ve seen people mention it. I’ve heard jokes about it. But, I’m here to tell you-it happens. Oh yes, it happens. And usually in front of a lot of people.

Never miss out on a singing opportunity: What happens when Mom is passed out on the couch, and her two daughters start singing along to Grease? Mom wakes up! Me and my sister decided to have an impromptu singing and dancing face-off to Grease, and my mom—who had been snoring on the couch moments earlier—jumped to her feet and joined in without missing a beat. So here the three of us are, dancing, making suggestive motions to the lyrics, and shaking our butts—when around the corner comes our new brother-in-law and his father. We look out the window to see them looking at us in the most confused manner—as if we were insane. Duh, you’d be insane NOT to dance to Grease! Even now, I bet you’re singing: Summer lovin’, had me a blast…

Boxers or briefs: Every Christmas morning, for as long as I can remember, my father has, and still does, wear a pair of satin Santa Claus boxers pulled all the way up to his armpits. Yes, I kid you not. It started because someone gave him a pair of boxers that were too big. He then pulled them up to his armpits to show just how big they were. We all cracked up, and insisted he keep them on. And, every Christmas since then, even after we all moved out and grew up, he puts them on when it’s time for presents. No one gets to open any presents until the boxers go on, ladies.

Don’t let the drunk eighty-year old carry your baby: My Grandmother—God Bless her!—loves to dip into the scotch at parties. I was downstairs, nursing my baby, and heard a huge bang, followed by my toddler crying. I watch my mom bolt to the stairs, yelling at my sister—who was 6 months pregnant with twins at the time—to get her pregnant self out of the way, watched my sister stumble back to the stairs, in her hate to move out of the way. I rip the nursing baby off my boob and take off after my mother as I’m attempting to shove my boob back into my shirt. I round the corner to find my Grandmother, laughing hysterically, and sitting in a bowl of cat food. My son is screaming like the crazy lady just tried to kill him in the safety of my husband’s arms, and my mom is steadying my sister while helping my Grandmother up to her feet. All while my boob is still not put back in my shirt completely.

Don’t stand in line for the hot toys:When me and my two sisters were children, the hot toy of the season was Cabbage Patch dolls. My mom was desperate to get them for us, and even went so far as to have my aunt, in Florida, stand in line for three hours to get them for us (we live in PA). After all the hassle, fighting, bickering, and shipping, we opened our presents Christmas morning—and never even played with them. All that hard work, tears, and sweat—for a discarded toy. Stick with something easier. Save everyone the trouble and heartache of an unloved toy.

Don’t pass gas at the dinner table:Especially when you’re meeting your girlfriend/boyfriends family for the first time ever. To this day, even though I’ve never seen my family member (who will remain unnamed so he/she doesn’t beat me—Love you!!) ever pass gas again, and was told he/she never does so…when we sit down for dinner as a huge family, we all mention it.

And last: We never forget. Every time we sit down to eat, we say: Let’s see if @!#$ rips his pants, and if !@$# farts again! And they both turn bright red. Every time. But it never gets old.

Giveaway: Like to knit? Well, I like to dye yarn! Enter below by telling me your favorite holiday lesson, and you can win a free skein of yarn. It will be custom dyed to your choosing of holiday colors! Red, green…or red white and green! Or, get even more fancy, and have a skein custom dyed to match one of my book covers! The sky is the limit! Prize, and shipping, are on me! Happy Holidays—and watch out!

And, for your viewing pleasure…a picture of a hot guy in Santa boxers. You’re welcome.

Diane Alberts is the author of: Kill Me Tomorrow, Reclaimed, and Escape to Me. You can visit her at www.dianealberts.com.