A Very Dinsdale Christmas

Haven't blogged for a couple days, because I've been battling the cold I gave Romi for Hanukkah (sorry, Romi!). Oh, and speaking of battles, how about a recap of Christmas?

Ours was very...typical. I'd like to say that my family pulls together over the holidays and recreates those lovely images of warmth and love, everyone smiling around the fireplace. I'd LIKE to say that, but my parents always taught me not to lie (besides, anyone who knows my family knows our favorite holiday tagline is "It's not Christmas until Heather cries").

The holiday started out okay. Mark and I arrived from Tucson on Christmas Eve and joined Scott, Mari and their family for dinner. It was only then, as we were about to leave for church, that I discovered Mark had outgrown his good suit (purchased six months ago), and was refusing to wear the jacket. For the last time of the year, I used the "Santa's watching" threat on him, to which he replied, "No he's not, he's delivering toys now." I asked if Mark really wanted to chance Santa passing him by this late in the game.


Christmas Eve mass was really nice. Poor Mark, who'd just spent three days celebrating Hanukkah, was thoroughly confused during the service. He couldn't follow the songs, and he kept stealing the missal from the lady in the pew ahead of him. (I'm pretty sure God frowns on that, ESPECIALLY during Christmas mass!) When we kneeled down to pray, he rolled his eyes and asked, "Do we have to sit like this for the REST OF THE TIME?" If I could've reached him, I'd have pinched him!

Then, to my horror, as we were leaving services, he pointed at the candles people light for their loved ones and said very loudly, "Mom, why are there 10 candles lit? There's only EIGHT days of Hanukkah!" We'd spent the last few days being outsiders at shul, and now here we were again, outsiders of our own faith! (Yes, Kelley, I know it's my own damn fault--flap!)

Mark woke me Christmas morning by shouting, "Mom, Santa got me a skateboard!" He also got some new sweatshirts, so he was thrilled.



We opened our presents together. Mark was very thoughtful, and bought me several gifts, including an angel snowglobe, chocolates, a vanilla oil diffuser, a VERY pink wallet/cell phone holder, a salt and pepper pinch pot, a travel mug you can put pictures in, and my favorite gift, a very large bottle of liquid Dove bath soap ("Because you love Dove soap!" he proudly proclaimed). I thanked and hugged him profusely for everything.


But what's Christmas without the rest of the family? (Peaceful!) We drove to Scott and Mari's house, to celebrate their first Christmas in their new house. We also celebrated the fact that for the first time in five years, the Dinsdale family was all together, and on speaking terms.


Well, the original Dinsdales, that is. The Dinsdale wives--not so much. (And I'm only writing this because my brothers don't read this blog!) Turns out Christmas really does bring on stress, and my three brothers reacted accordingly. By the time we arrived, my sisters-in-law were all angry with my brothers, and no one was speaking to their respective spouses.

Which makes for a fun holiday! Whatever. We Dinsdales, besides being funny, are generally a hardheaded group (I know, shocking!). I've survived enough Dinsdale Christmases that I was unfazed and carried on--I actually enjoyed the fact we were all together. (Or maybe I was just glad to have the focus off me for once--I actually didn't cry this Christmas.) I did feel sorry for my put-upon sisters-in-law, though, and maybe even a little sorry for my opinionated, strong-willed brothers (especially when I noticed all the wives had disappeared together and Scott noted "We'll probably all be divorced by New Year's.")


Tension and silent feuding aside, the food was great (awesome job, Scott!) and my dad received the best gift from Mari -- the leg lamp from A Christmas Story ("Must be from Italy--it says "Fra-geel-lay!"). Here's my mom's face when she realized what it was:

"It'll look very nice out in your train room," she said, but we all understood the unspoken end of her sentence, which was, "That lamp comes into the house over my dead body!"


At least the kids had a blast. They're all close in age, and get along famously. The seven cousins chased each other in the basement, shooting disks and arrows at each other (they all waited patiently to hold the target in front of their faces, and dodge flying objects).

They worked together building Mark's giant Star Wars Lego robot until two-year-old Johnny jumped into the carefully separated blocks like they were a pile of leaves and sent them flying. The two dogs followed them all around obediently, waiting for someone to drop food or cookies (where Charles was hopeful, Sunshine was proactive, feasting on a whole apple pie and a coffee cake while the family was at church).

So I won't lie and say that our Christmas was all smiles and love--it was definitely NOT a Hallmark card filled with love and warm holiday wishes. It was more of a Shoebox greeting card filled with jokes and smarmy comebacks, or a live reenactment of A Christmas Story, complete with a leg lamp and Bumpus' dogs swallowing the Christmas treats.

But I guess that's what Christmas is all about--a family together, in our own dysfunctional way, eating good food and spoiling the children. We may not be what you see on T.V., honoring our spouses and loved ones, but at least we were together. We do love each other, even if we don't always know how to show it.

And I'm sure that once the holidays have passed, with all the stress that goes with them, we'll be back to our usual happy selves. We'll all get along, happy and loving -- at least until next Christmas. :-)