I was so thrilled that I got what I wanted that Christmas. I understand now that finding gifts, let alone affording gifts for seven children was a challenge for my parents. The year I was nine years old I wanted a Barbie, and stirrup stretch pants.
You must understand, Christmas at our house might seem like chaos in another, but for us, opening our gifts after Midnight Mass was tradition. There was nothing about being discreet in opening our presents. Santa never put ribbons or bows on our packages to slow us down. His elves just used the prettiest Christmas paper that could be found. There was no doing it slowly. After midnight there was gift wrap everywhere in our small living room.
My mom made all of us take a nap, or at least “rest” for about three hours on Christmas Eve day. Maybe it was so she could get some rest. Maybe it was so none of us needed to be carried out of the church after mass. At about five o’clock in the evening we would all get up and eat dinner and then start getting ready for church. Our small home had one bathroom. Getting seven children cleaned up for church took time.
Afterwards, we were allowed to sit quietly and watch a Christmas special on television. Our little black and white television was in the living room, up against the wall where the stairs went up to our bedrooms. The rabbit ears antenna sat on top. That position must have been where we got the best reception that year.
The hours between getting ready and going to church would crawl. The anticipation of seeing what was inside our gifts was slow torture. If any of us got a little too eager or a little too cranky with one another, we were sent up to our rooms to rest some more.
Our Christmas tree was in the corner of the living room, next to my parents’ bedroom. I loved watching my dad decorate the Christmas tree each year. I cannot remember a year that we did not have colored lights on our tree. I passed the time daydreaming. I would squint at the lights on the tree and pretend that they were winter fireworks.
There were never any gifts under our tree until we came home from Midnight Mass. Then there were piles of presents. Neat little mounds of presents with our names written in black magic marker on each one. It did not occur to me how all those presents got under our tree between the time we left for church and the time we returned. Santa managed it every year. It was the one time of year that we got to stay up way past our bedtime, and when the time came after the gifts were opened and set aside, we did not argue about heading upstairs to bed.
That year I got my Barbie plus a case full of accessories. I think I knew my Barbie was not new, but it was new to me. I was proud that my Barbie had a blue steel wardrobe case adorned with brass corner pieces and a brass clasp. Inside it had two little drawers and hangers, and more clothes and shoes than I ever expected. It was important to my mom when choosing dolls for her daughters that she find a doll that closely matched our hair and eye color. I had a brunette Barbie. Not quite sure if her eyes were brown but in my excitement it did not matter. I also got my stretch pants even though my young girl body was not meant for stretch pants, especially hot pink ones.
I found out years later that my mom found my Barbie ensemble at a local church-based thrift shop. In the years following I would shop with her there on occasion looking for new to us, gifts, and clothing. It never shamed me to wear the next to new clothing that I might have had to go without otherwise. I am grateful that my mom taught me that the gift is in the giving.
I truly do not know what ever happened to that Barbie. My most recent search on eBay showed that vintage Barbie is worth about $100. That Christmas, when I was nine, she was worth more than her weight in gold. I got what I asked for and more. I have the memories of Christmas past.
Eileen M Hector 