I guess the holidays are officially over. Gone are the meticulous decorations my mother puts up, the perfect Christmas tree overloaded with ornaments, the garland I continually knock things off of. Even the faithful nutcrackers have gone. I love the holidays- not just because I like finding people presents and wrapping them or even the decorations. I personally feel the deepest love for the holiday baking season. Ahhh I can practically smell the Christmas tree cookies baking now. I love that the holidays see no reason to restrain your sweet tooth (I sometimes take it upon myself to save on the grocery bill by eating just cereal and sweets). I love when my mom makes dozens of ginger snaps that my brother’s friends fight over or when my dad eats all of the (read: my) puppy chow. But mostly I love the chex mix. For those of you who have never seen me around chex mix, I am positively useless to resist its deliciousness (we have video proof). I used to think that my mom must have done some sort of voodoo on the chex mix bowl we always used to make it come out perfect but apparently its just a lot of Worchestershire sauce (I stand my voodoo theory).
I love the holiday baking season as much as I love the way that the holidays bring out the crazy in all of us. Face it- we all have crazy families its just that some of us are a little more, shall we say, open about our eccentricities. This Christmas all of my family’s craziness was played out against the backdrop of old family movies. According to them not much has changed. Watching these delightfully embarrassing videos I have learned that there are some things that have remained consistent throughout my life. First, I sleep. A lot. I’m not really in my own christening video because I am, well, sleeping- even through the shrieks of my older brother and the commotion that comes with my family. Apparently my talent for sleep through anything, including one of the worst hurricanes in history and various fire alarms, has always been there. Second, I was horribly accident-prone and probably always will be. At my first birthday I almost fall out of chair (this is after I’ve already become close friends with the neurologist at the hospital) and am playing with forks. Yes forks. I couldn’t watch the video out of fear that I would somehow poke Even playing in the leaves I manage to gracefully dive (read slide) into the pile of leaves and sort of can’t get out. Every video we watched have some sort of disaster that seems eminent. When I dancing around being goofy in the videos, all I can think of is: Hello glass window, meet my head. Clearly my affinity for freak accidents is no accident. And finally I figured out what my roommates laugh at when I talk to anyone from my family on the phone: I have a really southern accent. Nothing quite beats hearing my 6-year-old self talk about her “TEE-AR-RAAAAH.” My accent is absolutely ridiculous and can only be described as coming from Hicksville, USA. What’s good is that these videos showed me that, hey, we’ve all got a little crazy in our families so you may as well just embrace it. Even if that means its Christmas day and you all end up dying laughing at how ridiculous/awkward you looked in the 90s or laughing at silly gifts where you receive a twitter shot glass. Ok maybe the shot glass isn’t so normal. Oh well.
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