If you celebrate Christmas, it is likely that your family has at least one tradition that is followed from childhood. Our tradition is opening a gift from my parents that is marked, “Open Christmas Eve”.
Every year it is the same gift and we love it – a new pair of Pajamas.
Who doesn’t love a new pair of pjs?
Besides, they’ll look great in that Christmas morning snapshot of all the kids – another family holiday tradition.
Photo Caption: Smile! It’s the 80’s and your shameless sister is going to post this picture in her blog in the year 2011 even though every single one of us is rockin’ a mullet. Except our father who was rockin’ a crew cut behind the Kodak.
The one person who doesn’t appreciate this yearly tradition is my husband. It’s not because he doesn’t appreciate getting a new pair of pajamas. Rather, he doesn’t appreciate the style of my new pajamas.
It is understandable that it would be a little uncomfortable for my mother to buy me sexy lingerie. Although it didn’t stop her the year she decided to send a message that she wanted a grandchild by swapping the usual flannel nightgown for silk. Funny that after she finally got her wish, the silk was replaced by character pajamas. Snowmen cartoons to be exact. After a few years of looking at the flannel snowmen every night, my husband turned to me and said, “I feel like I’m sleeping with Mrs. Claus.”
Not to be an ingrate, but I finally had to ask my mother what was up with the character pajamas and if she thought I was a woman child. Her response was, “Well they are Karen Neuburger.” A.k.a. queen of woman child comfy lingerie. One of my sisters seems to get sophisticated looking sleepwear while the other gets something trendy, probably because my mother knows she wouldn’t be caught dead in anything with ruffles and flowers.
So the next year, she gifted me a Sopranos’ Paulie Walnuts-like track suit. After my husband saw it he said, “Hey Flavor Flav, you look like you should have a big clock around your neck.” My daughter affectionately calls it, “the Flav suit”.
Last year, I didn’t look like a woman child or a rapper. I looked like Laura Ingalls Wilder of Little House On the Prairie fame.
This year, I’ll probably get a box of coal after my mother reads this blog.
If it makes her feel any better, I still own and wear my character jams, Flav suit and prairie gear. And, the Christmas morning photos would be Jerry Springer Show material if I was wearing silk baby doll jammies. Not to mention the resulting therapy sessions.
I am also very much looking forward to opening up my “Open Christmas Eve” present this year. As for my husband, not so much.