Yesterday we threw out my parents' Christmas tree. It's after Christmas so not such a big deal, but normally they keep one until New Year's Day. My mother thinks she is allergic to Christmas trees and has basically been sick ever since she and my father brought the one they got this year home.

It may be the most beautiful tree I've ever seen. It's perfect in every way, except for the fact that it seems to have given my mother allergies that caused so many problems she's been through two rounds of antibiotics and a round of steroids with no success. Now she's on yet another regimen and the tree is out with the recycling.

We're not actually sure if it's the tree or the myriad poinsettas she sprinkled throughout the house in preparation for a party she never gave due to her illness. All she knows is that she's never bringing another live tree into the house.

This is fine for many people who always get a fake tree. My father feels quite differently. He thinks that Christmas tree smell, along with the action of picking out the tree, carrying it home, even vacuuming twice a day to get up all the needles, is a big deal and a major part of his holiday enjoyment.

I am not sure how I feel about it. If I had a big enough house I too would probably have afake tree--it's nicer than sacrificing a tree every year and they don't shed. No new tree smell though.

If they don't get a live tree my father doesn't want to do a tree at all. He's also still convinced it's not the tree that caused her allergy. After all, they've had a live tree every year and she's never been sick--especially not like this. My mother's allergist feels differently. He says she should never bring anything live into the house or risk another attack.

I guess my mother is not the only person with this allergy. Her best friend also has one and has had a fake tree for years. Even I started to feel a little itchy as we took down all the ornaments.

I'm not sure what next year will bring. Perhaps there will be a live tree at my parents' house, perhaps not. Most likely not. I'll continue to get live trees for our house until we live somewhere with enough space to store a fake tree. Although, heck, who am I kidding? I like a live tree too.

Do you know anyone with a Christmas tree allergy? What do they do: take a pill or get a fake tree?

I spent Christmas night wedged precariously at the side of a toddler bed, a small foot digging persistently into my ribcage. I didn't mean to fall asleep there, but he'd been feverish and clingy all day, with a pleghmy cough. I've been trying to wean him off needing me beside him to fall asleep, but he was so fragile last night with his flaming pink cheeks and clammy hands. I fell asleep mid arm-tickle, still wearing socks and my gold hoop earrings,

Nolan seemed to come down with the same illness Riley acquired yesterday. It got worse into the night, when he allowed me to tuck him under the covers during dinner at my parents, and sat limp in my lap the rest of the time. He didn't even want Unky, he wanted to be tucked in the space under my armpit and I was so grateful to be able to provide some kind of Mommy solace.

He woke up several times in the night last night, squirming uncomfortably, moaning.

"Help me, Mommy,"he whispered once, and man I wished I could crawl into his skin and extract the fever, heat, pain.
"Will you have a spoonful of this?" I asked, fumbling next to his bed,"It tastes yucky but it will help you."
He acquiesced. He must have felt rough.
He squeezed my hand, whispered that he loved me, and fell back into a disturbed sleep.

This morning my back is sore for too many hours on a too-small mattress. Nolan is cowlicked and sticky with lingering sweat, tucked into the couch drinking apple juice and playing with a new horse. But we'll both be OK, and as I kissed this morning I realized it's true: the best thing in this life is being needed. That was my favourite Christmas gift.

This year at sort of the last minute we decided to head back to my hometown of Louisville, Kentucky to visit my side of the family for the holidays. We figured we'd never know when the last time we'd see any of my four grandparents given their ages and various stages of decline and had better let them interact with our new son while they still could.

So we all hopped in our new car--the baby, all his stuff, the dogs, all their stuff, my husband and I and all our presents--and made the thirteen hour drive from Brooklyn to Louisville quite smoothly. That Friday before we left was a crazy one with all the packing and last minute work stuff. Then, on top of everything else, I got a third message from my mother.

In all the craziness I hadn't had a chance to call her back. The first message was a benign one, but when I picked up the phone to take her call she told me the news: my grandmother had passed away.

I'm almost 33 years old and am--or was--fortunate enough to still have all four of my grandparents. This summer when we made the initial trip with our then three month old son we thought it might be the only opportunity the grandparents had to see Mr. Pickles before they moved on. Sadly, that turned out to be true.

I wanted to contribute a "Favorite Posts of 2007" since I'm in awe of my fellow ParentDish colleagues, but I'm heading out the door to my 1,274th Christmas get-together in the past 72 hours.

Wito, who loves a good car ride, now sprints in the opposite direction of the door every time he sees me put on my coat, his eyes full of terror.

My stomach is making some very unsavory gurgling noises, due to the 18 helpings of grandma's sausage and egg casserole.

If I drink one more glass of red wine, I might turn into a juicy grape myself.

I've become the Official If-You-Are-Sick-Do-Not-Touch-My-Sister's-Infant-
Nor-My-Toddler-Or-I-Will-Hurt-You Welcoming Committee.

That being said, I LOVE CHRISTMAS. (I must be a glutton for punishment.) May you and your family have a wonderful holiday season!

After all the hustle and bustle of Christmas preparations, the day has finally arrived. The living room is awash in wrapping paper and holiday music is playing on the stereo. The turkey is in the oven and the smells of my mother's good cooking fill the house. I am warm and happy surrounded by those I love so much and I hope you are, too.

In the spirit of the holiday, I've combed the Parent Dish archives for examples of average children doing exceptional things in the name of giving. In no particular order, here are my favorites.

• To honor her grandfather's memory, this ten-year-old girl spent the first 25 days of December living as her grandfather did, making a difference by giving selflessly of herself and inspiring others to do the same.

• Another ten-year-old, this time a boy named Zach Bonner, walked 280 miles to raise awareness and money for homeless children.

• These five seniors from Lake Fenton High School in Michigan declined the honor of being nominated for homecoming king so that another student could. That other student was Eli Florence, a sophomore in the late stages of leukemia.

• This group of students at the Cathedral School in Portland, Maine raised over $1000 during the course of a year to pay for their annual class trip. But after being inspired by a visit from Sister Lisa Velntini, the kids decided to give up their trip and instead donate the money to aid poor families in the Dominican Republic and Haiti.

• And finally, I had to include this one because it's my own Ellie doing something wonderfully selfless. For her birthday this year, instead of gifts, she asked party guests to bring donations for our local animal shelter. She not only collected much-needed supplies for homeless animals, she also inspired several of her friends to do something similar at their birthday parties.

With their hearts so firmly planted in the right place, these children have inspired me and given me hope for the future of the world that our children will inherit. May your heart be filled with the spirit of giving as well. Merry Christmas!

When Jared was younger, one of the things Old McDonald had on his farm was a fall-down-garbage-truck, complete with raised arm and the sound of the hydraulic lifters, followed by the whole thing tumbling down. Today, still, if he's up early on the right day, he loves to watch out the window as the garbage trucks come by and pick up all three cans. And, really, who doesn't?

I'm sure Zachery Harrison of Salt Lake City, Utah feels the same way. When asked what he wanted for Christmas, he responded "garbage truck". Although Zach is fifteen years old, chronologically, he is only about six, developmentally. He faces a number of challenges, including autism and mental retardation. It was Andrea Baugh, a family services coordinator with TURN Community Services, that got the garbage truck answer and she got right to work.

Baugh managed to arrange with Allied Waste Services for Zach to get a ride on a garbage truck. Although liability issues prevented him from riding along on an actual pick-up run, he got the next best thing -- to ride around the Allied Waste parking lot picking up dumpsters and crushing imaginary garbage. Zach got his very own set of steel-toed boots, bright green vest, gloves and safety goggles to keep, along with a toy garbage truck set.

And, as if all that wasn't enough, right after he got into one of the two trucks he rode in, a freight train appeared in the distance. "A train! I hear it! It's coming! The train!" he yelled. He honked the truck's horn, yelled some more, honked more, and yelled more. "There goes a train! Here it comes! Dad! Dad!"

All in all, this sounds like an amazing experience that Zach -- and his parents -- will never forget. Kudos to Miss Baugh and Allied Waste for making this special day happen!

Source

As many of our regular readers have probably figured out, I am not a Christian. Quite the opposite, in fact. I was raised Catholic, and, for the first 18 or 20 years of my life, went to mass every Sunday. These days, however, it would take a wedding or a funeral to get me into a church. And, despite the seemingly complete lack of spirituality surrounding Christmas in America these days, I still can't quite get into it.

I had a coworker who made the claim that Christmas could be celebrated as a purely secular holiday, but he had the advantage of growing up in an atheist household. I, however, cannot seem to separate Christmas from the birth of Christ and all that that represents. And yet, I have children. So I am trying.

I think the problem I'm having is that when I didn't have kids, I could overlook the origins of the holiday, just as I could more easily sing along with "Smoke Two Joints" even though I don't smoke anything, let alone marijuana. Now, however, I have the responsibility of passing my beliefs to my children and such matters take on more significance. I wonder if parents whose religious beliefs prevent their children from attending birthday parties face a similar dilemma?

I feel, on the one hand, as though I need to make this time of year special for the kids -- as special as it is for their friends who celebrate Christmas, be it religiously or secularly. But on the other hand, I don't want to be hypocritical either. How do I reconcile the two?

Am I the only one dealing with this sort of issue? Is there anyone else having a hard time getting into the spirit of the holidays? On top of it all, how do you all get into a celebratory mood when there is still the job to go to and bills to pay and the house to clean and so on? Or am I just being a total scrooge about this?

I left home at a very young age, but I didn't go far. Until the age of 35, I remained in the same city where I grew up, close to my parents and the rest of my immediate family. This meant that Christmas day was spent back in the house where I grew up, opening presents and enjoying dinner together.

And that dinner was the highlight of the day as far as I was concerned. After the gifts, a table full of wonderful food would magically appear and we would all sit down and enjoy the feast. Of course, the food prep wasn't actually magic - it was mom. Her stuffing was legendary and her turkeys were always perfectly done - golden brown on the outside, moist and tender inside. Side dishes and deserts - it was all there in delicious abundance.

That was then and this is now. Since I moved away and took my little family with me, I am the one responsible for the Christmas feast. My first time was back in 2000 and the results were less than spectacular. The turkey timer thingy never popped, so I spent most of the day with my head in the oven trying to determine if it was done. I clogged up the sink with potato peels and had to bring in the toilet plunger. I forgot to buy cranberries and I burned the rolls. I won't even describe the results of my attempt to recreate mom's famous stuffing.

We may have had to choke that dinner down, but things have improved over the years. Partly because I've had more experience, but mostly because now my mom comes to my house for Christmas and insists on doing most of the cooking herself. Really, she insists. But even she admits that her first few Christmas dinners were less than perfect and she's had her share of kitchen disasters. What about you? How did you do your first few times? Have you got the hang of it yet?

I don't know if you celebrated Christmas in your household when you were a kid, or if you gave particular attention to Santa Claus, but I certainly did. I loved Christmas as a kid and still do, even though let's just say I've stopped listening for the sound of reindeer hooves on our roof. There are some traditions that can make for very happy childhood memories, and for me Christmas time is one of them.

Now that I have a child of my own the excitment and joy of Christmas is back, perhaps stronger than ever. I can't wait to start traditions of my own with my new family--once he's old enough to understand the Santa concept, of course. Until then my husband and I like to enjoy ourselves by trading stories of how the holidays went in our households growing up.

When I was a kid my aunt and uncle lived two or three doors down from us in our quaint little neighborhood. My mother still talks about how much she liked our little house on a quiet block. We had just enough room in our livingroom for a tree anyone would be proud of.

When the excitement finally wore me out I'd got to bed. Cookies and milk were placed near the tree and my letter to Santa was hopefully in his hands reminding him how good I'd been all year.

Once I asked Santa to bring my mom a microwave and my dad some socks! I obviously didn't understand the cost difference in those two items--all I knew was that those were the things my parents talked about wanting! As for me, I wanted Barbies and My Little Ponies and science kits.

My uncle used to dress up as Santa and come into our house through the front door--I mean chimney--and deliver presents from a large black garbage bag. My parents would try to get me up to carry me in so I could see him, but I always turned away! I was afraid that--like the legend goes, I mean come on people!--if he saw me looking at him he wouldn't leave me anything!

This week we're doing the holiday card dash. Back before we had the kiddo my husband and I engaged in the popular annual tradition of sending holiday cards to friends and family across the country. For a good number of these people exchanging cards was/is the only way of really keeping in contact and telling everyone what was going on in our lives.

This year we wanted to do something a little more special since we had a new little one. Rather than mill around Barnes and Noble endlessly searching for cards that weren't too Christmas-y and all-inclusive enough without being boring and generic, we decided to do the thing where you take a picture, upload it to the computer and some on-line company and order cards.

Ours turned out pretty well. We're sort of excited to send them out. Now we just have to print labels--'cuz I sure as heck am NOT hand-addressing these babies--and get some stamps and we're all clear. In fact, since we're going out of town and Christmas is but a week away we have no choice but to do them tonight.

We're not the first among our clan to do the picture card thing. In fact, most of our pals, especially those with kids, take a few pictures, whip them up with some photoshop magic online and then pop them into the mail in a few breaths. It really beats all the handwriting, etc., although I sort of miss that tradition.

A friend of mine's husband does his cards without fail the day after Thanksgiving. Regardless of what befalls him or how much turkey he's eaten those cards are in the mail and at people's doors in a heartbeat.

We're lucky, this year especially, to even have remembered that people send holiday cards, let alone took pictures, had the cards made and getting them sent out within a reasonable amount of time before the end of the year.

Whew! January never looked so appealing!

Ah, the weather. How I hate it. All that pretty, pretty snow can really put a damper on things when you're trying to get things done.

Well, snow and sleet and rain. And I don't want to hear about how Mother Nature has her ways of getting us to slow down and take it easy by piling on mountains of snow when we simply HAVE to get outside.

Tonight I was supposed to go with my husband to his annual holiday party in the city. These events are, unlike many stuffy office parties, not to be missed. They're held at grand restaurants or fun museums and a lot of thought is put into the food, the wine and the mood.

Plus, it's the only time of year I generally get to catch up with folks I wouldn't normally otherwise get to see. Now that I have a baby and live and work in Brooklyn I don't have cause to get into Manhattan often and even less reason to stop by the office. This event was a way of killing all the birds with one stone and having a really good martini on top of it.

My parents were headed into town to spend an early Christmas with us and baby sit while we attended the party. Now, thanks to the crappy weather, we may not get to do any of it,

Living in New York, which has notorious weather, and coming from the mid-West, where ice is its middle name, I am no stranger to having the best laid plans shattered by rain, sleet and snow--usually a combination of all three. I even got a car to help combat the cold during all this and so that in emergencies we could get out and about.

The car, sadly, will not help my folks get up here or keep them from haunting the cold halls of the airport any less. It will not get them to their grandbaby any sooner. They will get here, one way or another, and once they do they're scheduled to be around for the weekend, so we'll be able to do some of what we'd intended.

Everything will be ok eventually because it always is. But then they have to fly back to Louisville. This is supposed to happen on Sunday, when we're due for a nor'easter. Something tells me the car won't really be able to help with that either!

Pic of nor'easter by lisachamberlain.

I know the holidays are about giving and not getting. I know that when you give a present, you shouldn't do it with the expectation that you're going to get something back.

But honestly, tell me: do you not feel mildly frantic, frizzy, and wildly inadequate when a random friend or relative surprises you with an awesome, thoughtful, expensive gift and you have...a limp form letter and a card to give back?

My Auntie Jane* sends Nolan and I presents for our birthdays and Christmas. They're usually gorgeous, expensive clothes, the kind that I can't afford. Striped sweaters that read "aeroplane" for Nolan, saucy wee trousers for him and luxe jackets for me. I appreciate the sentiment a lot: 90% of Nolan's jaunty wardrobe comes from Auntie Jane and it's true that expensive clothes are more durable, as a rule. I'm sure that Auntie expects nothing in return. I send her cards at holidays and thank you notes, of course, but I've never actually gone out and bought her a present. Really, I don't buy presents for too many people outside my immediate family.

But I can't help but think if she sits at home wondering why I never buy her anything back. I could buy her a small token: perhaps a handmade bracelet or a pretty hair clip, but then I would sit and wonder if that's cheesy compared to her generosity, whether she might think I just did it because she did it. Perhaps I over think every freaking situation on this planet, for the love of all things holy. It's fairly probably that I do, in fact.

But I need to know anyway: do you buy a gift back for someone who gives you a gift? Or is that negating the whole spirit of the holiday?

I'm not sure if it's an annual tradition yet, but Maxim magazine recently released their list of the fourteen worst Christmas movies. I thought it was pretty hilarious, and, sadly, pretty accurate.

Why does this matter to us (many of whom don't read Maxim)? I think it appealed to me because many parents I know get sucked in to seeing poorly conceived and made movies designed for children who can't see them without being accompanied by an adult.

Whether it's a cartoon or something more, uhm, mature, parents end up taking their kids to see kids movies quite often, and more often than not, the movies are plain terrible.

Then there are the movies that aren't designed for children that still stink. Those may be even worse. They try to tell us how awful spending the holidays with your family--who are crazy or drunk or mean or whatever--can be. Thanks--I think we all know that, and without being told in some trite generic way.

So what's on this list?

Source

This year, for the first time in what seems like ages, there is a new member of our family: our son. We're used to getting the same old presents for our parents and siblings and grandparents, but this year we're thinking along different lines.

I have basically no interest in getting anything for myself and can't think of a darned thing to get for my husband. I can, of course, think of about ten thousand things to get for the baby, who will be only around nine months old on Christmas Day (the holiday we celebrate in our household) and will probably care less about anything we give him than how he can get a hold of and climb up a Christmas tree, if we ever get around to purchasing one.

The other thing is that we sort of bought that new car, and are now basically without funds for large, holiday-esque purchases. Instead, and I actually think this is more fun even though it's more challenging, my husband and I are getting each other either one gift worth under $50 or a series of gifts under the same amount.

And none of them can be gift certificates.

Dang! Why did I have to throw that in there? Well, it does get us guessing, and it's a whole lot more creative. And, look, the amount would be a lot less but I have to tell you, in New York City you ain't gonna find much worth anything for less than a $50 bill.

Ah, December. It's a month I look forward to in a way, one that should be filled with evenings of hot chocolate by the fireside and sugarplum fairies. It should be filled with snow-covered trees and wrapping up in warm blankets with the rest of the family. Instead it's a month of travel, deciding to travel, and recovering from traveling.

This is not necessarily a bad thing. Hey--I live in New York City, and the rest of my family and my husband's family all live elsewhere. They aren't interested in coming here for the holidays since we have only a one-bedroom apartment and the cost for a hotel stay go from exorbitant to outrageous at the first ho ho ho. If we want to see family for the holidays, we have to go to them.

Before I had a baby I didn't really mind so much. Sure the traffic on the way to the airport was iffy and the possibility of the overly-full flights taking off on time was a myth but everyone was filled with the holiday spirit--or perhaps too much caffeine and sugar from Starbucks in the dining area--so it didn't matter.

Plus, after all the madness, my smiling family was waiting there for me at the other airport, waiting to give me hugs and presents and take us out to my favorite local restaurant because we hadn't eaten since 5:00 AM when we left the house in Brooklyn.

This year, however, we have a baby. We've road-tripped him before, as I did this past summer when we went from New York to Ohio into Kentucky and then up to Indiana on the way back. We rented a car and packed up everything we owned and the dogs and off we went.