Our next guest blogger goes by the pseudonym “Ieatcrayonz”. Anyone who wants to publicize the fact that they chew brightly colored wax is either really fun, or crazy (Okay, it’s both but here’s proof on the crazy part). She is the terrific mother of Baby Lauren and when they say a picture says a thousand words, they must have been thinking of Baby Lauren’s tantrums (posted every week on Tantrum Thursdays). Every time I visit her site, I leave with a smile. There’s so much to see, including her two weiner dogs that she somehow has morphed into one dog for the purpose of blogging. And, finally, you gotta love a woman who manages to snag free baby shoes through blogging. I am thrilled that she agreed to share her family traditions here at Childsplayx2. Please welcome Baby Lauren’s mom!

______________________________________________

I have to admit, when Matthew asked me to come up with something for a guest blog on family traditions, I felt a whole lotta performance anxiety.

Family traditions? Growing up, our nearest relatives were 700 miles away (on purpose if you ask me). It was my mom, dad, and older butthead of a brother every stinkin’ holiday. No grandmas or aunties to pinch my cheeks and shower me with presents of knitted underwear and hard peppermint candies stolen from the podiatrist’s office candy dish. I had no uncles or cousins to rough house with and send me to the emergency room on Christmas morning in need of ten or so stitches.

My side of the family has a terrible tradition of opening Christmas presents on Christmas Eve. It’s like some awful inside joke my parent’s have pulled on me since I was a kid. I never understood it. I’d spend all day anticipating the magic time my parents decided upon to open gifts that evening. And for every minute on the minute until that time came, I’d beg and plead and whine, “Mom, is it time yet?!?!” One time my parents waited until 11 pm to open gifts. I was so tired, I don’t even think I enjoyed it. Like I said, TERRIBLE TRADITION.

I married into a family that is now fifteen strong. Be careful what you wish for.

Our family traditions now consist of a feast cooked by my mother-in-law that requires at least two or three scheduled rounds of speed eating at her small dining room table. First the kids, then the ones that forgot to eat breakfast, and finally those that tided themselves over by snacking on the plate of deviled eggs when they should have been helping prepare the food.

Christmas day is the day we’ve designated for the carnage that has become six grandchildren opening up various superhero gifts. It’s a flash of torn paper, shredded cardboard, and cries of “Did anyone buy extra batteries?!” But it’s fun, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Now that I have a family of my own, I’ve decided that we need to start our own tradition. That tradition has become going to the tree farm and picking out an overpriced tree with branches that aren’t able to hold any ornaments except those made of paper. In the interest of economy and my secret fear of pine needles, I suggested that we purchase a pre-lit tree from Target this year. From the look on my husband’s face, you’d have thought that I spit in the deviled eggs. “NAH! It’s got to be real. It won’t be Christmas without a real tree!”

Believe me, honey, it will still be Christmas. When we see that little girl’s bright cheery face on Christmas morning, we’ll know our real Christmas gift has arrived.

You can visit Baby Lauren’s Mom at http://babylaurenmiller.blogspot.com