Christmas is . . . Meatballs

Yes, I enjoy meat.  But, it wasn’t the meat -- the meat was raw.  Three days before Christmas, David and I gathered the family together to make the traditional Swedish meatballs we would take to the Benson Family Christmas Eve Dinner.  Makenna, Alia, and I spent nearly an hour scooping teaspoonfuls of meat and forming them into balls that David would brown on the stove.  Alia’s were often way too big.  She had meat mixture between her fingers and up to her elbows.  Makenna and I secretly re-formed her meatballs to a reasonable size before they went to Dave at the stove.  Linnea, who didn’t want anything to do with raw meatball goo, still wanted to work with us.  She set about cutting bread for the Christmas Day dressing and acted as our official photographer.  There we were:  dirty dishes piled up to our ears, gifts yet to wrap, toys strewn about the family room, with Xerxes waiting for us to drop handouts.  We were  working together & laughing.  We were making memories for years to come.

Each year I desire to enjoy the “perfect” Christmas season.  My vision is one of Christmas music playing softly in a quiet, tidy house, with clean children peacefully playing games at the kitchen table.  The gifts are purchased (on sale) in September and are wrapped early and placed beneath a beautifully decorated tree in a designer living room, where I am curled up to enjoy the days of waiting in front of the fireplace with my husband, a great book and a glass of wine.

Never mind the fact that my vision is unrealistic and formed by Dickens, Hallmark, and the media.  I get it!  But, I still aim for it.  As a result of my unrealistic yearnings, I annually set myself up for disappointment.  I end up dreading the work that promises to make my family’s Christmas “picture perfect”.  I furrow my brow and fake a smile as I set about orchestrating the details behind the perfect gifts, decorating, errand running, list making, house cleaning, cookie baking, & Christmas-memory-making entertainment that will fulfill my vision.

This year, however, surprised me.  The lead-up to Christmas was much like any year, but in review, my favorite things weren’t the house, the music, the gifts, or the “vision”.  (Most of that didn’t happen like I planned anyway.)  When David and I stopped to talk about our favorite memories from this holiday season, my mind kept returning to individual moments that I’ll remember:  watching Alia dance in her new ballet clothes, changing outfits every few minutes; watching the big girls shop for each other and pay for their gifts with their allowance money; a breakfast out with David 2 weeks before Christmas; and last, but not least . . . the meatballs.