The Creepy Christmas Monkeys

"The tree looks beautiful as usual, honey," Mom says with a smile as she begins her annual ornament placement assessment, preferring to stand so she can stretch her legs after an 11-hour drive, a celebratory glass of champagne in her hand. I become aware of my heartbeat as I watch her patrol the perimeter of the tree, scanning every branch with mystical speed. We both know what she's looking for and after several years of acting out the same scene, we're overdue for a well-deserved Academy Award nomination. Next week there will be a repeat performance.

My parents travel to our home every Christmas. The same conversations and events take place within the first two hours of their arrival.

The Drive
We talk about what time they left in the morning—alarm went off, bags loaded, and wheels up by . . . early. How Dad almost had to change his route at the last minute due to weather. We discuss the condition of the roads, the traffic, and the price of gas. Where they stopped to eat and how long each meal took. "Your father's finally agreed there's no need to rush and inhale food. He doesn't push me anymore. It's actually a pleasant drive, now."

The Cargo
Dad and Chris carry in laundry baskets full of wrapped gifts. Mom rearranges the gifts already under the tree so she can display the packages she carefully transported and that, don't forget, arrived without a tear in the paper or a misplaced bow. Not to mention, the contraband. "Your mother threw her little jacket and sweatshirt over the beer you kids wanted. If we get pulled over . . ."

The Ornaments
Mom purchases special ornaments for the boys every year. A common tradition in many families. Annual gifts of Christmas pajamas or ornaments seem to be the American way. She surveys the tree, locates the superheroes, the teddy bears, the Wizard of Oz heads, and she pauses . . . "Chrisy. Where are those BEAUTIFUL monkeys?"

"They're somewhere. I don't know. Keep looking." I try to look busy brushing pretend dust off of couch cushions.

She finally finds them, hidden like a bird's nest, high and near the trunk of the tree. We both drop the facade. "Why do you do this? Put those monkeys where we can see them," she requests using her Cut-The-BS tone.

"Mother. They're disturbing. They scare the kids."

She reminds me how much the monkeys cost, and that she purchased them from that fabulous boutique in Scottsdale, you know, the one you like . . . they're works of art. The boys, she says, originally enjoyed the monkeys but my attitude has influenced them. Then she redistributes ornaments so she can place the monkeys—the heavy, creepy monkeys—in a prominent place.

You tell me. BEAUTIFUL or creepy? My mom doesn't read the blog, so you can be honest.

Creepy Monkey With Cymbal

Creepy Monkey With Trumpet

Horrifying!I invite you all to this year's performance next Thursday evening at approximately 5:30 PM Mountain Standard Time.

Twenty-Two Years

"Marry me. We can go to Vegas this weekend," he whispered.

We'd been dating for less than six months in the fall of 1988.

"I can't. My parents will kill me if I elope. We need a little more time." I ached.

My parents wouldn't have killed me, and sometimes I regret my decision to not jump in the car that night, drive from Phoenix to Vegas and exchange vows with a young man who was crazy for me. I was crazy for him, too. We married a year later.

Even though I was 23 years old on my wedding day, I wasn't experienced in the ways of hair and make-up. The bridal magazines showed sophisticated gowns, fancy updos, and make-up suggestions that weren't me. I chose a Laura Ashley raw silk dress. It was simple and youthful. I did my own hair and make-up.

After getting dressed and trying to primp with my two bridesmaids—dear friends who respected and understood my wedding style struggles—I met my parents in a room before the ceremony. My dad said, "You look beautiful."

I asked, "Do I look too casual?" He laughed, but I was serious.

And away we went.

Chris and I exchanged traditional wedding vows in front of 100 guests, then we climbed a hill for some pictures. At the time I remember thinking we'd made a mistake by scheduling photographs after the ceremony. We missed some of the reception and I felt anxious, although guests didn't seem to miss us. We wanted the traditional element of surprise when I walked down the aisle—a groom's first sight of his bride on their wedding day. Now I don't regret either decision. We don't view our wedding photographs often, but I'm glad we have them.Sweet Wendy was with me for the entire ride. We were roommates when Chris and I began dating. We both miss her friendship. She's the one who took the photos of Chris carrying me over the threshold on our wedding night.

The morning after our wedding, Mom and Dad hosted a brunch for out-of-town guests at their home. Chris and I made a brief appearance before heading out on our honeymoon—a few days in Sedona, Arizona, at the Sky Ranch Lodge. As we were getting ready to leave my mother indicated she needed to speak with me privately.

A few days before the wedding I got sick and was prescribed antibiotics. I was also on birth control pills.

"Honey," Mom said. "A nurse from the doctor's office left a message yesterday. Antibiotics can interfere with birth control pills. She said you might want to use a backup method."

Awkward. And a little late.

Happy Anniversary, Chris. Just so you know, next time you whisper a request that involves Vegas...Yes.

Boo.

Mary, our dog, is the only other female in the house. Chris and the boys play with her, cradle her Schnauzer snout in their hands so they can make eye contact as they speak sweetly to her, and provide appropriate human/dog affection. They...touch her. I don't do any of these things. But, Mary adores me. Pines for me. Will do anything to please me. Like allow me to dress her in costumes.

She was Uhura for Halloween.

Mary was a little disappointed that she didn't fill out her Starship Enterprise uniform as well as the original Uhura. My friend and Mary's seamstress, Julie B., said next year we can fix that. Falsies. Mary smiled.

The boys are great about participating in what has become a family tradition—a Halloween costume theme that includes Mary as the token female character.

The older boys chose to change out of their Captain Kirk and Spock costumes for trick-or-treating. But Redmond enjoyed being Scotty. Might have something to do with the Taser.

Duke was an elf. We're not sure what Parke was. He wore a mask from his Theater class and a black robe. We called him "creepy guy".

**********

Chris walked around the neighborhood with our boys and I stayed home to man the door. We had close to 200 trick-or-treaters. One group of little girls who I didn't recognize lingered for a bit. I commented on their costumes and asked if they were having fun. Finally one of the girls asked, "Are you the lady who wrote that book about Mormons?" She looked like she was eight-years-old.

"Yes," I said. "That's why I'm giving out full-size candy bars."