Fond Childhood Memory: Christmas

Since we don't have kids and the dogs can't read calendars (they think every day they get a cookie is Christmas), its kinda hard to get into the Christmas spirit.  I truly do think that Christmas and Disney World are for kids, and that Disney World as an adult is inhumane and should be outlawed, or they include "adult land" where its nothing but alcohol and strippers.

Anyhoo, I just happened to find some black and white pics of one of my childhood Christmas times, so I thought I'd share the wonder that was "A Very Robinson Christmas"... and yes, for those of you that know my first name is Penny, I was Penny Robinson and NO I wasn't named after the stupid "Lost In Space" family (although I had an Uncle Don and my father was Jon, I did not have a little brother or a freakin robot so STFU I was named after a dog!).

See, you keep trying to ruin Christmas for me, so just be quiet and enjoy "A Very Robinson Christmas" and no, we weren't a Swiss Family either OMG will you just be quiet and enjoy the stupid pictures!

Here is our tree:

Yes, it looks like quite the motherlode of gifts under the tree, but be advised, we got socks and clothes and to make things look bountiful, my parents use to wrap everything separate... so it was "ooooh, a sock", then "oooh the other sock".

The tree was snagged from one of the local tree sellers and decorated with about 5,000 lbs of ornaments, popcorn strings, and tinsel.  We would invariable find popcorn and tinsel laden poo or cat puke around the house for weeks after, and there was always the lovely walking through the house and having your foot impaled with a brittle, splinter-like tree spike.

The "thing" in our house was that my mom would take my sister out "shopping".  Then she would take me out "shopping".  I can only vouch for my shopping, but it went something like this:
Mom - "Your sister would really like that doll"
Me - "euw, lets get her a GI Joe"
Mom - "no, I think we should get her THIS doll"
Me - "whatever"

Then, when we would unwrap our gifts, we would each get the same doll, and the same GI Joe... whatever one got, the other got.  The mindset behind that insanity was that we would never fight over gifts, because we both got the same thing.  We figured that out quickly, and just traded dolls for GI Joes and finger paints for guns, then we both had two of what we wanted.

The household tradition would be that on Christmas Eve Dad would trudge upstairs with Mom and read "Twas the Night Before Christmas" where we would both burst out laughing when the guy "threw up" the sash.  Then we were told that we had to fall asleep or santa wouldn't come.  Of course we were too keyed up to sleep and heard Santa downstairs rustling around and cursing in a voice that sounded like dad.

Around 3am we'd get up and creep downstairs and ask if it was too early, then run back upstairs when threatened with bodily harm and continue to ask each hour until finally they'd have enough and decide to get up.  Then we had to wait for the coffee to brew and they each had their first cup before we started the whole opening gift process.  We'd get each parent a gift, then get to open one, etc.

Here I am near the tree, and from the carnage it looks as though we are in mid-unwrapping.  The lovely little pajama number was sewn by my mom, who ran out of the patterned material before she made the sleeves.

Yes, that is a cow skull hanging from a beam in the ceiling, and yes, that is the sun god Rah on the wall.  Behind me is a rotary phone too.

Here is a bigger picture of the homemade pajama monstrosity.  Please note: I have the exact same hairstyle now.  Also note that the last time I was home, my mom still had the same Encyclopedia Brittanicas that we bought from some door to door salesperson dirt cheap because even by the time we bought them, they were incredibly outdated. I'm pretty sure there's an entry in them about the world being flat.

Here is my dysfunctional sister with her bounty.  Love the saddle shoes (and yes, I got the same exact freaking things).

Every year one of us would get the "big" gift.  Actually if it was for us kids, we'd each get the "big" gift, like bicycles or something.  But this year it was mom that got the big gift... a new sewing machine.  She cried over the sewing machine... seriously?  We cried over the sewing machine too, because that meant that she could sew unmatching, one sleeve too long fashions for us for school.  Don't get me wrong, I appreciated the fact that my mom tried to put us into the latest fashion, but as with all home-made clothes, its just... not right and all of the kids KNOW its not store bought, especially when your mother can't match fabric colors to save her soul (a trait she passed on to me).

Later she would take up crocheting and I had quite a collection of mutant stuffed crocheted animals.

There you have a "Very Special Robinson Christmas".

Merry Christmas to everyone out there!