It’s 6:00 AM in early 1987 and I’m getting dressed for work. I’ve just come back from 45 days of Christmas leave and it’s my first day back on the job.
Except that my uniform no longer fits.
Now I’m in trouble.
Christmas, 1986 was one for the ages. My first wife and I had gotten married in May of 1985 and summarily moved overseas to my duty station in Exmouth, Western Australia. Since the seasons are reversed in the Southern Hemisphere, our first Christmas together was a disappointment. It’s like celebrating Christmas in hot, humid July. It was lonely and we couldn’t wait to spend the next one at home in California.
We went on Christmas and Thanksgiving leave in mid-November 1986 with about $500.00 in cash and a credit card with a $2,500.00 limit. Because our duty station was isolated, we didn’t have many of the comforts of home. Our commissary and Navy Exchange was tiny, sort of like an understocked Dollar General. Comfort food items like Twinkies and Goldfish crackers were rare. Even a trip to McDonalds was prohibitive. The nearest one was nearly 8 hours away in Perth.
Southern California on the other hand had just about every possible store and restaurant you could imagine. There was a Price Club (now Costco) and first run movies and regular TV. It was so good to be home. And we took advantage of every opportunity to eat and buy whatever we wanted.
At least for a couple of weeks. After the initial reunions with family and friends, we found that everyone went back to their normal lives. Then, as Christmas neared, the trouble started.
My first wife and I met in high school, shortly after her parents separated at the beginning of a bitter, contentious divorce. She had four siblings and the battle over who gets who at the holidays continued into adulthood. We were staying at her dad’s big house in Newport Beach, so the plan was to spend Christmas Eve with my mother-in-law and her serious boyfriend Peter. Then, Christmas morning we would drive over to my parents to spend the morning, then the afternoon we would head over to her dad’s house for a big celebration. So far, no problem.
Except that on Christmas Eve, my mother-in-law had an epic melt-down when she found we didn’t bring any gifts over for people to open. Now honestly, I didn’t really think about this. We bought one gift for each person in the family. That’s a lot of gifts. I didn’t think we had to buy a gift for each person, for each location. Christmas is expensive enough. Apparently, my mother-in-law did. She cried and shrieked, and I wonder if poor Peter should have seen his future in that moment. They later married and she divorced him angrily after about 15 years. I don’t believe she ever healed after her first divorce. She passed away in 2010 and Peter just a few months ago. He was a really good guy. She was evil.
Fortunately, we all attended church for a candlelight service and that seemed to calm the mother-in-law down. The rest of the holiday was uneventful but busy and hectic. After the holidays, about three days before flying back home, I realized we were out of cash and nearing our credit limit. I had to call to get it bumped up. It was the beginning of some very poor financial decisions that took a long time to fix. And I had put on some serious weight.
So, when we return home, I must buy bigger clothes. I’m fat and broke and worried. Is this what awaits us when we transfer back home hopefully in a couple of years?
As it happens, it did. I got orders to Naval Hospital Long Beach in November 1988, very close to where we grew up and surrounded by family. The first Christmas back was ok. But after that, things changed. By now we had two young children, and they just wanted a normal Christmas morning. We were still in the mindset that we had to parade the kids and ourselves to everyone else’s celebration. This went on until the Worst Christmas of All Time – 1990.
My wife and I were having serious marital issues, I was struggling in my career, we were financially strapped, her siblings were constantly over and meddling, and I was overweight and very unhappy. Still, we went through the motions of the holiday process. Christmas Eve and church with the mother-in-law, Christmas mid-morning with my parents, and then Christmas afternoon and night with my Father-in-Law and Grandfather-in-Law at their big house in Newport Beach.
Things went off the rails at my parents. My mom had put on a big spread, and we really couldn’t stay more than about two hours. My brother and his wife and daughter had to leave too to go to his in-laws. I could tell she was upset. She still is. 33 years later, with Alzheimer’s, and she still brings this up. I felt bad too, not just for her and my dad, but for my kids as well. They just wanted to stay home and play with their new toys. Something had to change.
It did. We split up in April of 1991. Holidays would be different now. We decided to split the big ones. I would get the kids on Thanksgiving, and she could do the Christmas events, minus the visit to my parents.
Barb and I started dating in October of 1991. She had already booked a trip home to Tennessee for Christmas, so I knew I’d be spending it alone. Somehow that seemed just fine to me.
And it was. Christmas Eve 1991, there was no church service to attend so I decided to visit my parents. My grandma, my dad’s mom was visiting from Los Angeles and her, and my mom were prepping tamales and enchiladas. There was no stress. No pressure. No arguing. No rushing around.
Christmas day I slept in and then drove over to my parents. It was just me, my grandparents, my brother and his wife and young daughter, and my mom and dad. We ate and laughed, and it honestly was one of my best Christmases of all time. And yet, it was the simplest.
Today, Christmas is different. The kids have grown up and moved away. Krystal, my oldest and from my first marriage lives in Easton, MD. They don’t do a traditional Christmas, instead giving gifts at Thanksgiving and then doing a birthday party for Jesus on Christmas day. My ex flies out each year and spends Christmas with them. It’s a great tradition for them and I know now that Barb and I fighting for grand-parental rights would just spoil something special. Besides, I would rather fly out and see them and not have to share that time with anyone else. Barb and my kids have partners but no children. They either fly out to spend time with us, or we head either to Dallas or Las Vegas to be with them. And none of this must be on Christmas Eve or Day. It’s just whatever works.
Since my mom and in-laws don’t get along, we must do two celebrations, but even then, we don’t commit to Eve or Day. This year our daughter is out with her partner who has family in the area so we will celebrate with them on December 26 so they can see his family on Eve and Day. No pressure. No fighting. No stress.
A colleague reminded me the other day that Christmas is a season, not just a day.
My advice for you is to take that seriously. If you can relate to my story and are currently stressing out about the season, remember, Christmas is a special day for kids. It’s about THEM, not you. Don’t stick them in the middle of the stress. Does it mean you might have to give in to your detested in-laws occasionally? Probably. Some people can’t imagine flexing on the date. Just realize that when you look back at Christmas, you’ll find plenty of good memories, but the good memories will be more about the time with food and family than expensive gifts. Those things don’t have to happen on December 24 or 25.
Happy Holidays and Merry Christmas. But remember, it’s up to you to make them Happy and Merry.