Sunday, December 26, 2010

It's tradition

There's something about the holiday's that give certain people (including my family... and yes, that includes me) the urge to make traditions (and yes, in case you were wondering; I'm already planning traditions that I will subject my children to one day). Some choose a family game that, with out it, Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas. Others bake SweetBabyJesus a birthday cake (yes, this is on my list of torturing traditions my children will be subjected to- can't wait!). But for my family, we sing. It's just what we do, every Christmas. Many would not believe it unless they see it with their own eyes, but it really does happen; right after we open our gifts. My Aunt or Uncle pops out of nowhere with the song books that they have been patiently clinging to all evening and begin passing them out. The cousins look at each other and smile that smile that says "oh dear, here we go." When we arrive at this portion of the evening I can't help but cringe a bit inside, every year. If I (and I'm sure other members of my family) were to be completely honest; there is definitely a love/hate relationship going on with this tradition. A relationship I will strive to acheive in my children one day (sorry in advance little ones... and future husband for that matter).
We split up into groups, decide which group has which portion of the song (which is a major feat in and of itself in my family) and, in no particular order, and at a pitch that would make most dogs howl, we sing (or yell) the Twelve Days of Christmas. And here my love/hate relationship lies. "Are we really doing this? Seriously? How old are we? This is so immature! Oh SweetBabyJesus forgive us for ruining your birthday party with this song" I think quietly to myself. Sometimes (ok, most of the time) I can be a bit dramatic. I like to think of it as being emotional, it sounds sweeter than dramatic. Either way, I cringe, then sing. And before I know it my cringe is replaced with laughter... and my love/hate relationship turns from hate, to love. It's in those moments, when we let go, give in, and laugh, that memories are born. It's in those moments that I realize I wouldn't trade my life, my family, my Christmas, with anyone else. Because without the Twelve Days of Christmas my Christmas would not be complete.
Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
Anthony Brandt

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