Submitted by OWB Blogger of the Month, Heather Davis
I am not a themed-Christmas tree person. I do not have specific themed ornaments for my tree. In fact, if one were to assign a theme to my tree based on first glances, one might actually use the word “hodge-podge.” One might also use the word, “miscellaneous.” Another good word would be “motley crew,” and I’m not just saying that because I have an ornament of Nikki Sixx. (I really don’t, but wouldn’t that be cool?)
Each ornament, however, has a special meaning. For example, if I did have an ornament of Nikki Sixx, it would serve as a memento that I once had hair as big as an 80s rock band.
Each year, not only do we buy our daughters a special ornament that is significant or symbolic of their year, but Brian and I also exchange ornaments as well. And, if we travel any place as a family, we always buy an ornament. So, our tree tells the story of our lives, which is not a nod to a One Direction song, by the by.
With the exception of one ornament … the Christmas Sock. It’s important to note that the Christmas Sock is not the same as the cross-stitched stockings that are hung by the chimney with care. Don’t be confused about this issue.
The Christmas Sock is just a sock, usually a dirty, smelly, and possibly stiff with toe jam sock that finds its way on our tree.
My younger daughter was born in January and her first Christmas, when she was almost one year old, was the first Christmas in which we had a Christmas sock. I like to blame her, but the truth is that any of the three slobby elves I live with could be responsible for the Christmas sock.
The legend goes like this: Momma in her kerchief (that’s me) begs her family to please, for the love of all that’s pepperminty and gift-wrapped, pick up their junk from the living room. The family responds with grumbles that only the threat of a phone call to the big guy at the North Pole can silence. Momma will shoo them all to bed, collapse onto the couch and stare blankly at the Christmas tree wondering two things: 1) How was it that she became so blessed to have such a lovely home and family and 2) How the heck did that sock get on the tree.
Then, magically, wine will appear in her glass (not really magically because, usually, I have to pour it in my own glass) and Momma sighs in contentment.
The legend will continue when the girls are grown and I sneak into their house at night at stick a sock on their Christmas tree. I plan to also drink all of their wine because frankly, they owe me.
Heather Davis is a momma, a writer and the ham in her generational sandwich. She & her husband have two daughters and a seventy-six year old momma, all living under the same roof. She is the award-winning author of the TMI Mom book series and blogs at www.Minivan-Momma.com.