My baby turned 10 yesterday. Although that may not seem much, it will be the first time in 27 years I’ve not had a child in the single digits.
And, my first granddaughter was expected to make her appearance, yet as of this writing, had not yet.
As I stay with her elder brother, our first grandson who is now 3, I relive so many memories...
One thing about Christmas is the memories it evokes.
When I was a little girl, we arose quite early, but my mother told us not to awaken her until the television stations came on the air. There were only three channels in Shreveport, La., and they did not come on until 6 a.m.
My brothers and I usually awoke early, went to the living room and lay on the couch watching the lights on the Christmas tree and on the silent small black and white television set until the national anthem played.
Then, we would run wake up Mother.
After we opened presents at home, we would load allthe presents in the car to show them to our grandparents and go there to celebrate again.
At Grandmother and Granddaddy’s house, Granddaddy had a movie camera.
It had a light bar with several large, bright light bulbs on it.
He was filming Christmas as we opened presents. Grandmother always had a white flocked Christmas tree bedecked with pink glass balls.
The presents were wrapped with pink foil paper. The stockings hanging from the mantel were made of pink felt.
One year, Mother let me help play Santa. We set up an electric train set for my brothers. What fun we had connecting the rails, stringing black sewing thread on the electric poles to replicate electric lines. We ran the train around the track a time or two, testing the smoke function, then went into thekitchen for milk and cookies.
Crash!
My kitten had climbed the Christmas tree making it fall across the train track, breaking glass balls and creating a mess! We cleaned it all up and then off to bed.
As an adult, I remember getting the children to bed as early as possible, then setting out Christmas presents, some wrapped, some not.
There was usually the inevitable assembly of something, which was accompanied by quite a bit of frustration.
On Christmas Eve 1988, I was nine months pregnant with daughter number four and daughter number three (who is now in the hospital preparing to deliver her own daughter) was dehydrated and on IV fluids. I begged the doctor to let us go home for Christmas.
I was born in December.
My grandmother tells me that she and Granddaddy were going to a Christmas dance when Mother went into labor. My grandmother also was born in December, but MaMaw, my great-grandmother didn’t talk about labor and birth, so I don’t haveany stories about that.
As this year ends, I’m amazed that I now sound like my mother and grandmother telling stories of the past, remembering events from years ago more easily than yesterday’s events.
My babies are now grown women having their own babies. My mother, who always claimed to be 110 but never seemed old, is more than three-quarters of a century old. My grandmother is nearer 100 than she ever imagined she would be.
And soon, we will hold the fifth generation girl - Skylar Grace King, who will be grown before we realize it.
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Editor’s note: Annette Beard is the managing editor of The Times of Northeast Benton County. A native of Louisiana, she moved to this area in 1980. She has nine children, three sons-in-law, two grandsons, a granddaughter to be born Dec. 27, 2011, and another grandchild due in April. She can be reached at [email protected]. The opinions of the writer are her own, and are not necessarily those of The Times.
Opinion, Pages 4 on 12/28/2011