Christmas Through the Houses

        My childhood has been a blur of different countries, states, houses, schools and friends. My family has moved a lot, partly because of my dad’s job, and partly because my parents really enjoy moving and seeing different parts of the world.

Not an accurate representation of our apartment.

        The 1st House: Not technically a house. This was an apartment in Toronto, Canada, where I lived for the first six months of my life. From what I know, there was never a Christmas tree in this apartment, or very many decorations — my dad was a student in university, and my mom was the mother of a very demanding toddler, and a premature wittle baby (me). However, I believe this house still counts, because Christmas is not defined by the decorations (of which were scarce), Christmas tree (or lack thereof), or even the fireplace (or lack thereof). It is defined by the family and the love.

An image I found online.

        The 2nd House: Like the first house, this was technically an apartment. In Wisconsin. I remember these Christmases vividly. Our tiny, cramped apartment could not fit a large coniferous tree, but my ever-resourceful mother managed to get a little fake decorated tree, maybe 1 foot tall, set atop the countertop. On Christmas morning we unwrapped Barbies, train stations, and many, many books. This apartment also contained our first fireplace. It was a small affair. In it, we burned newspaper and small pre-cut pieces of wood. My parents sat around it after sending us to bed. One incident has provided endless laughter: One Christmas eve, I stormed out of my room, tears streaming down my face. I worried that my parents would forget to put out the fire and Santa would get hurt.

Captures the gist of the year's Christmas tree.

        The 3rd House: Our first real house. Still no “real” Christmas tree, but my mother’s improvisation more than made up for it. The Christmases in this house were some of the best. We decorated the tree, baked cookies, and celebrated with close friends. The tree in our house was a beautiful little three-foot-tall coniferous shrub sitting in a pot, on a really tall planter. We hung miniature baubles (perfectly in proportion with our tiny tree) and a string of multicolored lights. This began the years of Christmas cookie baking as well. If any of you can remember, Easy Bake was a trend in our childhood, and one I so desperately wanted to be a part of. My mom refused to let me cook baked goods with a “glorified lightbulb” and insisted that anything I wanted to make I could do in the “big girl oven”. Needless to say, there was no Easy Bake under the Christmas shrub that year.

Still not an actual picture of our Christmas tree.

        The 4th House: The fourth House was in sunny Florida in a lovely suburb town. This was the year we were to get our first... real Christmas tree, even though Florida is more known for its palm trees than its Christmas trees. So this actually marked the year we got our first fake Christmas tree from Home Depot. My family was super into Christmas decorations that year… we had a designated tree corner and two sets of Christmas decorations: one set red and green, and another with a silver and blue. Every year, we alternated between those. We also had two mantles to decorate above the fireplace. We bought stockings, stocking hangers that depicted Rudolph and Santa, strings of lights for our mantle, and wreaths with berries for the door. The first Christmas in the house, our stockings were stuffed with Rudolph shaped chocolates, light up bouncy balls, and fun erasers, but the tree skirt remained completely bare. Our real presents were annual passes to Disney world that my dad had left in his pocket. All in all, our first traditional American Christmas was a hit.

Over three stories tall? Basically accurate.
Renee used a LOT of paper.

        The 5th House: The fifth house is here in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. We moved over Christmas break, so we had to unpack beds, boxes, and more boxes. Our Christmas presents were new coats, thermal shirts, warm boots, gloves, and woolen socks. It was one of the coldest winters in Pittsburgh, and we Floridians came unprepared. It was a busy winter break, but I was extremely disappointed that our family didn’t have a beautiful tree to light up and decorate. My mother didn’t come to the rescue this time, but my best friend Renee did. She gave me a box covered in duct tape and pictures of us, containing a letter and a hand drawn Christmas tree with the caption: “Since you couldn’t have one this year.” It's still the best tree, by far.