Christmas Memories

I think today is the first day of winter.  When I lived in colder climes I always hated and loved this day.  Hated because I didn't like the cold and the snow, loved because after this day, the daylight hours stopped getting shorter and started increasing  Granted, it was only by about a minute of day but I was happy.

We're leaving for California today to spend Christmas with family and will be gone about ten days. I've set this and other posts up ahead of time and assume Blogger won't let me down.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanza and whatever else it may be I hope it's happy and that you are with family and friends.  A special thanks to all our military personnel who are not able to spend this holiday with their loved ones, you are in my thoughts and prayers and I appreciate your sacrifice and that of your family.

CHRISTMAS MEMORIES

We were getting down the Christmas ornaments from the attic.  As usual, I was distracted; I suffer from the Shiny Penny syndrome, and saw an old photo album. The older I get, the more nostalgic I get around the holidays, and I couldn’t help myself. It flipped open to pictures of my brother and I when we were about 5 and 6 years old.  It must have been around Christmas because I can see the tree reflected in the mirror and my mother in the background.  You can see her look of surprise because this was in the day of old photo flash bulbs, and that burst of light startled you if you weren’t ready.

Seeing the look on my mother’s face in the photo reminded me of another time I saw that look. I must have been around 8 years old and was just on the cusp of not believing in Santa Claus. You know how it is, you want to believe, but you know it’s more of a fantasy than a reality.  I kept this to myself because my brother was still a firm believer, and I didn’t want to spoil it for him.

The Friday after Thanksgiving, my mother, bless her heart, would always make us sit down and write out our Christmas list.  She would post is on the refrigerator and next to it was a paper with each of our names posted on the top, and the days until Christmas on a column down the left-hand side of the paper.  There were columns running down the length of the paper and across the top, she named our chores and the last column was named behavior.  Each day, she would mark off our completed chores and place either a star or a black X in the behavior column. It was supposed to serve as a reminder that if we didn’t behave, Santa would not be visiting our house come Christmas Day.

This particular Christmas as I was testing the waters of there being no Santa; I didn’t do very well with my chores and had many black X’s on my sheet.  My parents kept reminding me there weren’t very many days until Christmas and if things didn’t change, Santa wouldn’t be bringing me of the items on my list. 

“There isn’t any Santa Claus,” I proclaimed after one of these threats. Since my brother was within earshot, I received a stern look from my father who warned me to watch my tongue. I remember huffing and puffing and receiving a swat on my backside for the behavior.

“You are going to be one surprised little boy come Christmas morning.” I heard my mother say as I walked from the room.

Apparently, they decided to make me a believer, even if it was the last year I would truly even consider the idea of the reality of Santa Claus.   My parents really played it well, on Christmas Eve, long after my brother and I were in bed; our dad dressed as Santa, visited our house.  He made enough noise to wake us. As we tip-toed down the stairs, there was Santa putting presents around the tree.  In the dim lights of the Christmas tree, he looked very real to me.  My brother and I quickly scampered back upstairs to bed.  Thinking of how naughty I had been, I couldn’t get back to sleep because I was really afraid I wouldn’t be getting any of the presents I so desperately wanted.  I don’t know how long I laid there, but I started hearing this noise.  After a time, I couldn’t ignore it anymore, so I tiptoed back downstairs.  Imagine my surprise, when I saw Santa sitting on the couch with my mother draped over his knee.  He had her skirt tossed up, and her panties down and was giving her a spanking.  I stood there unable to move.  I must have made some kind of noise because suddenly I noticed two startled faces staring at me. I ran upstairs, climbed into bed and pulled the covers over my head and cried.  If Santa was spanking my mom, I knew there would be no Christmas presents for me.

The next morning, my brother was up with the sun and trying to drag me out of bed to get downstairs.  He finally gave up and went down without me.  Shortly thereafter, my mother came upstairs; she pulled back the covers and took me in her arms and hugged me.

“What’s wrong sweetie.”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Last night I saw you getting a spanking from Santa Claus.  Momma, you’re always good so if he spanked you; I know I didn’t get any Christmas presents.”

“Maybe you should read this note Santa left for you.”

“Santa left me a note.  Will you read it to me Momma?”

She began to read:  Dear Evan,  I know you don’t believe I’m real, but I am.  I wasn’t going to leave you any presents because you haven’t been a good boy.  Your Momma convinced me you would try harder and volunteered to take a spanking on your behalf so you could have some presents.  Your momma loves you that much so you better behave, or I’ll have to come back and this time you will be the one to get the spanking.

Thank you for the milk and cookies and the reindeer thank you for their treats,

                                                                                        Merry Christmas, Santa

I remember apologizing to my mother as she accompanied me downstairs to find my gifts. Thinking back it did give me another year of boyhood because I did believe in Santa that morning.  By the following Christmas though I was a total non-believer - no self-respecting nine year old still believed in Santa Claus.

I was closing up the album when my wife called out to me. “What are you doing up there Evan?  I’m standing down here waiting.”

“Here I come, dear.”

I carried the boxes downstairs and began telling my wife about finding the photo album and how I just couldn’t resist looking at the pictures that awakened so many memories. She laughed as we reminisced about our own Christmas tradition. It started the first year I dressed up as Santa Claus for our own children when I told her my story. Thereafter, every year, once the children were settled in for the night, I would give her a bare bottom Christmas spanking before the Santa suit was retired for another year.  We did make one change though, we moved to our bedroom and locked the door.

Our kids and their kids were coming home for Christmas this year.  The whole family hadn’t all been together in years and my wife, and I decided I should reprise my role as Santa Claus for the grand kids.  We rummaged through all the Christmas boxes and found the Santa suit.

 It was quite a few years since I last donned the suit.  I tried it on and although the suit still fit let’s just say I didn’t need padding anymore. I was starting to buckle the belt when Wendy began teasing me about my paunch.

“You shouldn’t tease Santa Claus, little girl, you might get coal in your stocking?”

She laughed and asked me if I needed help poking holes in the belt to make it fit.  I whipped it off and waved it at her in a menacing manner.  She laughed at me again and this time I whipped her butt with Santa’s big black plastic belt.  Wendy and I were both laughing hard as I chased her around the room flailing that ridiculous belt.  Finally, breathless and collapsing from laughter, I managed to pull down her jeans and take her over my knee and spanked her bare behind.  One thing led to another and we made love in  our usual Christmas tradition. Once again, the Santa suit had once again worked its magic.


See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.