I love holidays. All holidays. Birthdays, the Fourth of July, Easter, Halloween, Christmas, New Year’s, St. Patrick’s Day, Memorial Day, and Labor Day. I think that there are probably more holidays that I love to celebrate, but these are the one’s that come to mind. And, being the Prom Queen, I find it my queenly duty to decorate for each occasion. Big decorations. From the smallest of details….appropriate salt and pepper shakers for each event….to the splashiest of decorations….lights, banners, dyed food and drinks, and of course costumes! This is a big responsibility and I take it very seriously.
Mud Flap hates holidays. I’m not quite sure why, but he does not share my love of these moments. In fact, the more I celebrate, the less he enjoys it. This was not obvious to me when we were first married. Early on, I just noticed that I was doing all the “remembering” of all occasions alone. He would certainly “show up” – and take the glass of scotch which I placed in his hand. He would nod his head as I gleefully showed him what I had done to the house…or the yard…or baked in the kitchen…or made for any costumed event. Mud Flap would love that I had done all that I had done. Or so I thought. After several years, his smile was not as obvious and I began to realize that he would rather be buried alive than to celebrate these wonderful moments.
Did that stop me from celebrating? Never! So, the holidays became moments of dueling emotions for the family. The Prom Queen and her crew (the children)…Bubba (my eldest son), Sweet Magnolia (my eldest daughter), Little Princess (my second daughter), and Grits (my youngest son)…would celebrate with great aplomb while Mud Flap would growl appropriately from his chair. This made for interesting moments.
One most memorable one was around the Christmas dinner table. After a morning of present unwrapping, laughter and screams of delight over the goodies that “Santa” brought, we gathered around the table to enjoy the feast which I, the Prom Queen, had prepared. We toasted our great blessings and said the grace. Before we could even pick up the first fork, or cut the first bite, Mud Flap turned to Grits and growled “If you don’t stop leaning back in your chair, I am going to ram your F…g head through the F…g window!” Grits leaned forward and the chair banged down to all four legs on the tiled floor. All eyes turned to Mud Flap. You could cut the air of anticipation with a knife….would he throw him out the window? Would we all get it? The sounds of our Christmas C.D. wafted through the room.
Well, not to let all the goodness be “sucked out of the room”, I raised my glass and with a great flurry of what could only be called ‘overly emoted exaltation’ I declared “A Merry Christmas to all and to all a Good Night!” The moment passed and laughter ensued….Mud Flap was always good for a laugh! We just let the wine flow and dinner continued. We’ve always remembered that moment with great warmth and affection.
I’ve always thought that holiday perfection was overrated. And, anyway, it is all in the eye of the beholder. What could be more perfect than Grits and Bubba beating each other up and driving off in drunken huffs on Christmas Eve? And what says Happy Holidays more than the Christmas tree falling over after Santa has perfectly placed all the presents around it? Or forgetting to put out all the presents? And finding them the following year….where they were hidden so that one wouldn’t forget them? Or, after much heated discussion one Christmas Eve, Mud Flap decided to sleep under a boat tarp in the garage after napping on the neighbor’s porch for a time? Don’t you just love a little excitement during the holidays!
Is there really a “Father Knows Best” Christmas?
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