The Hidden Christmas Disaster

There are lots of really funny Christmas stories. You see movies made about them all the time. Wait till you hear mine. It certainly changed my perspective. To begin at the beginning, I would have to start when I was about eight and the new neighbors moved in next door. The youngest boy was born on the same day and year that I was. It is an unusual birthday - two days before Christmas. As we grew up we had "unbirthday" parties together in July. We commiserated with each other about the unfortunate timing of our birth. All the other kids got real parties on their real birth day, but out birthdays were almost always swallowed up in holiday rush and we hardly ever got double presents. The common disability of our unfortunate birth date, united us against the world. We played together in the summer, moaned about our teachers as we did home work together during the school year, and missed each other when our families took us on separate vacations. Joe was just the nicest guy.

As we got older we tried to date each other, but I thought it was more like going out with a brother, than on a date and he said pretty much the same. When we had to show up at a social function with a member of the opposite sex, we knew that we didn't have to worry about finding some one. We went to our fist High School Dance as a double date. We both got in trouble with our dates, since we got into laughing about something that they didn't understand. After High School we grew apart as we went away to different schools. But we were close enough that when he needed a date for a holiday party, I was his first choice. So I pulled out a fancy dress and we went off to impress his bosses. On the way home we laughed at how stuffy the people were, but I must have been a success with them as he shortly was promoted. My boyfriend at the time, thought it was a hoot.

About a year ago, I heard from my mother that they had met Joe's fiancé and thought she was wonderful. I had planned my usual vacation week at my parents with Christmas smack in the middle. My mother decided that she would have one more birthday party for Joe and me. Holy crow, I didn't want anyone to notice this birthday, since it ended in a zero. After all these years of neglect, I really thought we could just continue to ignore it, but Mom had the bit in her teeth. Now not only was I going to get to meet Joe's fiancé, but I was going to have to deal with the humiliation of all those embarrassing stories and pictures that our parents would bring up. So added to the stress of trying to spare my parents as much of the work of getting things ready for Christmas, I would be allowed to assist my mother in hosting a "dinner party" as she insisted on calling it.

Usually my visit was tied up with chauffeuring, decorating, wrapping, cooking, and so on and so forth. I knew that the more I did, the less my folks had to do, so I really made an effort, but an added dinner, was just one more thing. I listened to my mother as she planned the menu and raved about this girl, Renee. "She was a beauty. She had a beautiful smile. She looked at Joe like he was a dish of ice cream ready to eat." Joe was always good looking, so who could blame her? I used to figure that he stuck me to avoid the girls that seemed to swim around him like sharks. So added to my usual tasks would be the added pleasure of helping Mom prepare a dinner. At least the good china would get a second outing this visit.

Before I knew what hit me I was filling the cart with things as my mother read off her list. Driving her home and attacking the dinner preparation with a vengeance. Here I was with the big 30 looming, as my mother reminded me - no husband, no children, only that damned job and damned cat. (Both of which I loved). In fact, except for when I came home, I felt fairly good about myself.

Eventually the food was ready to go and the table was set. My Mother sent me off to put on something "more presentable" while she fiddled with getting the carving set ready. I was half way into my skirt, when the doorbell rang. I jammed my feet into shoes and headed down to "face my doom." I could see beautiful red hair hanging down over a soft green dress. This was a surprise since Joe had usually gone for brunettes. As I clambered down the stairs, Joe looked up and held out his arms. "Hi, bug. Give me a hug." It was an old greeting, and I felt normal for half a second, before he quickly hugged me and turned me around to meet Renee. My folks were right - she was gorgeous. "Renee, this is my good friend Careena," he said, "Careena, Renee." On my best behavior I put my hand out and she took it with lady like precision. With a quick wave at Joe's folks I helped my Dad, dispose of coats.

Then it was the merry go round of serving the meal in the order Mom had planned and trying to keep up with the conversation, without adding anything too dumb. When Mom suggested coffee and dessert in the living room, I was only too aware that the tree was sitting there untrimmed. I slid off to tend to the dishes, before the food got stuck on. Renee and Joe joined me shortly to help with the dirty work. When I tried to send them off to join the "grown ups", Joe reminded me that this had been our job and now we had one more pair of hands it might go quicker. Joe washed, Renee dried and I put away. Joe kept up a running conversation, mostly with himself, until he reminded me how I had been called "careening Careena" as I was learning to ride a bike. I was mortified, but before I could get too mad at him, Renee chimed in, "That was better than being called "runny Renee" after a slip in a mud puddle." We both started to laugh and point at each other.

So maybe this girl would be okay. She was beautiful, and she seemed smart. Then everything went haywire. "We're waiting," my mother called from the living room, "will there ever be coffee?" As I plugged the coffee pot in, I felt a shock and heard the old favorite pfft noise. The kitchen became suddenly dark. As I turned to reach for the drawer with the flashlight, I slipped on some escaped dishwater, falling and pulling down the towel with the clean silverware on it, which landed with a clang. Renee, who had been filling the creamer slipped and spilled both the sugar bowl and creamer over both of us. Joe, trying to help us up, in the dark, slipped on the cream and fell into both of us and we started laughing, calling out names of movies that had food pandemonium in them. I heard my father heading for the basement and as he got the lights back on, I discovered that we had truly made a mess, broken glass mixed in sugar and cream. Maybe it could be a new dessert.

Standing up, I moved the coffee pot to a grounded plug and got it started. My Dad stuck his head in and said "You kids get this mess fixed and I'll stall the adults." What did he think he was, but I knew my mother would have fits. We washed and wiped up what we could. I found aprons for the three of us, to cover the disaster that we had made of our clothing. I felt like Joe and I were ten years old again and Renee was fitting right in, as she fluffed my hair out and poured milk into the second best creamer. She took them into the living room, saying that we had decided that milk was healthier for us than cream and she didn't want to clog any arteries. How she could say that with a straight face, I couldn't imagine? Then she said she needed to go over to their house and get a present that she had for me and could Joe help her? "We'll be right back as soon as we get into other clothes" she whispered as they dashed out the door. I slid the cookies onto a new plate and sprinkled them with powdered sugar, in case we had messed any of them up. I was almost finished dishing the raspberry ice cream into small dishes as Joe and Renee came back into the kitchen. "Quick, green sprinkles on top instead of the spilled chocolate, and it is ready to go," I said and handed the bottle to Jo. Renee pushed me into a corner, pulled a soft white sweater over my head as she slid my stained blouse off and shoved it into a gift box.

I think my Mom's failing eye sight helped us to get away with it, but today when we are fifty and have gone back to Grandma's with the kids, we still laugh about the year we first met. The first year Renee gave me the slightly stained apron, that she wore that night, and the next year I returned it. We have traded it back and forth ever since. It has such good memories.