Desk the Halls, Fa La La La La

My mother worked hard at Christmas. It was a fulltime job for her for a minimum of three months, every year. She had a running list of gift ideas that she was constantly checking twice. She picked up presents months in advance and had an elaborate system for hiding them in places where no one would accidentally stumble upon and ruin their future Christmas morning. She knew when all the sales were and had stock piled the necessary coupons. Her plan was for there to be a big load of presents under the tree on a small budget.

This level of effort inspired a wrapping frenzy. As my mother saw it, she worked so hard for one reason and one reason only: To bathe herself in the cozy warm feeling she got from the excited reactions on her children’s faces as they opened each gift. But, it was more than that. As a family of five far from our extended family, Christmas was always just us. So, after spending countless hours, days, weeks and months working toward the grand finale of Christmas morning, she was determined to make that time last as long as humanly possible.

As such, there were rules:
1. No one was allowed to head to the living room - and by default - see the tree when they woke up. We gathered in my parent’s bedroom and there we stayed until all five of us were awake and ready to make the journey down the hall together.
2. Each member of the family carefully chose and claimed their seat on the couch, floor or chair. Once chosen, that was your seat for the duration of the present opening festivities.
3. My Mom always presided over the event by sitting on the floor in a space closest to the tree. There she could most easily see what gifts were there and chose the optimum time for each one to be opened.
4. Only one person was allowed to open a present at a time. 
5. It was not time to move on to the next present until the reaction of the one just opened had been sufficiently tested and the present itself discussed to the satisfaction of my mother knowing she had done well with that particular gift.
6. After all gifts under the tree were opened, there was an intermission for breakfast, bathroom breaks, the removal of used wrapping paper, and general clean up in the kitchen before the family reconvened in the living room.
7. Once settled back into our previous staked out seats, we were each allowed to get our stockings, which were hung by the fake chimney with care.
8. And, the process started all over again.

Yes, you read that right. We each took turns opening a gift from our stocking, because all stocking stuffers were wrapped. This included down to a tube of chapstick, if that is what was a part of your stocking that particular year. The only things not wrapped in a stocking were the couple of candy items my mother would always graciously include. It was a real treat as a child of three to have candy that you did not have to share.

This was the regiment of my Christmas mornings until I got married myself. No Christmas morning phone calls with friends, who had already opened all their gifts and wanted to compare loot. Since we were not done opening, those phone calls usually did not take place until early to mid afternoon. No, we were in lockdown. Christmas was carefully orchestrated every year, and the maestro had finely tuned the experience to perfection.

So imagine my surprise at the tender age of twelve when I took the all-too-familiar journey from my parent’s bedroom to the living room and what did my wondering eyes see? But, three adult size desks standing unwrapped in front of the tree.

How could this be? Did we take a wrong turn? Were we in someone else’s living room? A bit confused, I looked around to be sure I was still standing amongst the members of my own family. But, there they were. My father beaming that grateful smile he made every Christmas, when he realized how lucky he was to have a wife take the reins on all that troublesome effort of making children’s dreams come true. My brother sulking, because he’d already determined that he was not going to get what he really wanted that Christmas. And, my sister with a confused smile on her face. Of course, there was a smile, though. She knew, like me, that no matter what you got for Christmas, you smiled. Otherwise, you were served up a heart-broken look on my mother's face.

My mind started to work again and come to grips with the fact that this was really happening! We were face-to-face with our big present for Christmas, and it was a real, live adult desk.

“Well?” my mother asked hesitantly, “What do you think?”

She continued without letting anyone answer, “You all are so grown up now and have homework and books and things, we thought it was about time you had furniture for your rooms that you can use and make your own.”

I ran over to the desk, oblivious to whatever reaction my younger siblings were having. I opened the drawers and started planning the uses for my desk out loud, “ I have so many pens and markers I can put in this drawer. And look at this! All my textbooks will fit in that big bottom drawer. Oh, I should get a desk lamp, so I can see what I am reading.”

My father rushed to my side and started planning with me how much more fun school work was going to be with my very own desk. 

To this day, I have some fuzzy notion that my mother dealt with less enthusiastic reactions from my brother and sister that Christmas morning. But, for me, the pure surprise of seeing a big gift as soon as I walked into the living room on Christmas morning was my maestro mother’s best performance of her Christmas career.