The Awkward Time Between Christmas & New Years

Happy post-Christmas and pre-New Years. 

What an awkward time of year where time stands still. My holiday celebrations are over, so I am hanging in the balance between the year gone by and the one still to come. It’s a peaceful but uncertain time. What do you do to fill this void? Today, December 28th, is a gloomy day. The very little snow we received on Boxing Day has iced over and is now melting away to the rain. The sound of hooves on my roof have been replaced with pelts of raindrops. I could easily fall asleep to this sound. Sleep is a foreign concept over the holidays. It always has been the busiest time of the year, but one filled with trial-tested traditions.

The lead-up to Christmas and the inevitable winter break was a long climb to the top of Merry Mountain before plummeting down through a holly jolly forest. The anticipation was enough to inflate those sugar plums dancing in our heads. School days and weekends were filled with studies on holiday traditions, starting with choppy caroling of Kindergarteners to acting as Santa in the school production of “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” We made reindeer faces out of “borrowed” wire clothes hangers and our mother’s pantyhose. Math and science was learning the ratio of chocolate chip cookies to dough to make the best cookies for Santa. Gym class was still terrible. Music was learning “Oh, Christmas Tree” on the recorders. All in the name of just getting through the month, for both the students and the teachers.

After school and through the winter break was a free-for-all. After school, if snow had fallen, we would race home to gather our sledding equipment for races down The Berm. The manmade hill, separating our horseshoe-shaped townhouse community on Ferman Drive from the train tracks, was safely within the eyes of every at-home parent or Block Parent available. This is where we laid tracks. Be it wooden sleds, GT Racers, crazy carpets or our own butts, we had a free and clear spot to rush down a steep hill with Jack Frost nipping. The designers of this space must have known that children would need a good twenty feet between the base of The Berm and the parking lot to make a safe landing. We would be out there until someone’s parents hollered “SUPPER.” I would stay out past the last call - when the street lights came on - so you can see the holiday light spectaculars. Our townhouse offered mostly window displays and low-hanging eavestroughs for strings of lights, but the bigger homes provided dazzling decor for the neighbourhood to see.

After dinner, I would pretend to do homework while waiting in front of the television for Dr. Seuss’s How The Grinch Stole Christmas to air on the CBC. Followed by Rudolph, Frosty and all of Rankin & Bass’s seasonal claymation specials. I avoided my math homework, stupidly, to use my pencils to circle the Sears Holiday catalog or regional flyers for my desired under-the-tree treasures, with the odd flip to an underwear ad if available.

Visits to Stone Road Mall were necessary evils. Sears, Zellers and Consumer Distributors were the only must-visit locations for every holiday gift, treat and trinket needed. However, the stores were at opposite ends of the mall. So whatever was not collected at one required a trip down to the other two. All of us would need to go, especially when Secret Santa was introduced. My parents would separate, took two kids and conducted their shopping. If, by chance, someone was in a group with the person they needed to buy for, a quick swap was made outside of the food court. It was a juggling act while maneuvering through the crowds, all preparing for their yuletide merriment.

Then came the family affairs. For two weeks, it was a non-stop revolving door of family dinners, drop-ins, parents’ work events, or the odd birthday party for the poor December babies. We would be stuffed into the station wagon or minivan and taken to one of our relatives’ houses for the traditional turkey dinner. Which I believed to entail two turkeys, eight Crock Pots with mashed potatoes, vegetables and stuffing, and a neverending tray of squares, cookies and pies. But when your family fluctuates between 30 and 50 members, it was better to over prepare.

After Christmas, the fun did not end. It was either more Christmas parties or the infamous Boxing Day parties. For a few years, my parents played host on Boxing Day to all those relatives, friends, coworkers and neighbours we had just seen over and over again. Our tiny townhome was filled from wall-to-wall with attendees, some stopping by for one drink and others (Aunt T) hunkering down for the long winter’s night.

The Boxing Day party was a whole new celebration, with most of the same trimmings as Christmas parties. The bar was stocked with every liquor possible. Coolers sat in the backyard, filled with OV or Coor’s Light, and every table had at least one bowl of snacks on it. Mom loved to host, and still does, and would go all out for the guests. It was a drop-in, so come when you please. But staying and leaving was a whole other story. One of my aunts would pack it in about 3 a.m., laying on the couch to end the party. She would surely sneak out at the first hint of any children awake.

However, from the 27th until the 31st, that was pure laziness. Our house would be filled with any type of grab-and-go meal you pleased: leftover turkey, deli meats, fine cheeses, pickles, cut-up vegetables, all the pop you would ever want, half-eaten bags of chips and the homemade party mix mom whipped up. I think I just realized the sources of my poor eating habits (that or dad’s famous hot-dogs and soup dinners). We would all lay around, watching whatever boxset of movies we received as gifts. This would be the only time I ever fully watch 2001's Pearl Harbour with my parents. Josh Hartnett would be for private viewing in the future. 

If you wanted to go outside, that was your choice. It was Christmas Lord of the Flies - every person for themselves.

As I grew, the traditions changed. Part-time jobs would adjust my availability for both gatherings but also traditions like essential holiday viewing I could not stand to part with. I still evaded homework by studying the Sears catalog’s contents, beyond the toy sections. Instead of carving paths with my ass, I was carving them with a shovel to clear my car and head on out. Instead of being the school Santa, I would play Santa to my cousin’s kids at my grandfather’s Christmas luncheon. The parties changed, the traditions melted away, but that awkward time period still lingered.

In adulthood, the exuberance for the holidays remains with me, but losing track of time is a real occurrence. The ultimate gift of choice does not come from a gift card, but from being an adult with free will. Saying no to certain celebrations and using a poor weather pattern or respiratory system as an excuse is a viable option. The enjoyment of binge-viewing can lose its luster if that is a regular activity (although I still seem to make it work). Instead of Mom waking me up to ask “are you still watching that?” Netflix prompt lingers until I am jolted awake by laying at an odd angle on my couch. But this time is needed. Once the celebrations are over comes the desired hibernation. I understand fully why my parents wanted us to relax for several days. We could all use a rest from the lofty volume of energy (and money) spent during this season.

As the rain pelts continue dancing on my rooftop, I know there are leftovers waiting for me. If not, there’s some sort of snack I can munch on while watching one of the DVD sets we got for Christmas (Survivor and The Amazing Race collections are almost complete). So whatever it is that keeps you sane during this time, I hope you let time and your cares slip away. Fall into the awkwardness that is December 27 to January 1.

Eat, drink and be lazy.