Jew here and it’s Christmas time. I never celebrated it until a few years ago, but my Jewish soul is no match for my desire to put lighted reindeer on my lawn. The main problem is I have no sense of nostalgia for Christmas like I do for Hanukkah, or Halloween, or any other holiday I grew up celebrating.

We’re hosting Christmas day this year. It’s just Captain’s immediate family, but still. There needs to be food. What food? For Passover there’s matzo ball soup, for Hanukkah there’s latkes, for Christmas there’s? I turn to Captain. This is his holiday. He is an unreliable source of information. He’s just not sure.

I can’t fathom this. I text his mom:

“Do you guys usually have turkey or ham for Christmas day? I come from a long line of people who went out for Chinese food.”

I learned that both have been done, so we’re going with ham and maybe a kugel and maybe some wonton soup.

In the last couple months BB has decided she loves going to the playroom at the YMCA. She gets to play and I get 2 hours of babysitting. I can workout or I can sit on my butt in the cafe or I can do both. Two hours is a lifetime.

I’ve been going to yoga regularly and it feels great. There’s a lovely woman I look forward to chatting with every week, but today a guy was waiting for class too and he dominated the pre-class chatter. He turns to me,

“I trust you celebrate Christmas?”

If you’d asked me a few years ago, no. I tell him we celebrate Hanukkah and Christmas. He asks what’s on my kid’s list. My neon green bracelet is a dead giveaway that I have a child in the playroom.

I mention that BB got most of what she asked for for Hanukkah. Then he asks,

“Do you have more than one?”

“Nope.”

“Do you want more or is one good?”

This is the point where I’m tempted to scream,

“MY BABY JUST DIED.”

I don’t. I keep it together.

And speaking of dead things, I hope our tree makes it. It’s dropping a lot of needles. It doesn’t help that BB likes to pet it. She pats the tree and as needles scatter everywhere she says,

“Gentle, gentle.”

And then there’s the elf on the shelf. All of November I pondered whether we should have one and if we should, should we start this year? The one other Jewish mom in our town has a mensch on a bench. Actually there are at least 2 other Jewish moms in my town, but that’s all I know for sure.

I wonder about the mensch on a bench. The elf goes back to Santa every night, where does the mensch go? I have other questions, but it feels like if this is something we’re going to do because I don’t want BB to miss out on what most of the other kids are doing, then we might as well do the elf.

The day after Hanukkah ended our elf arrived. BB named her Tutu. I’ve yet to remember to move her until the next morning when I run around like a panicked person, although BB doesn’t get it or care if Tutu moves or not. Yesterday Tutu “flew” off the top of the refrigerator when I banged the door closed. I had to touch her, which means she probably won’t move for a few more days, that works for me.

I have many more thoughts on Christmas, but whatever you celebrate, I trust we can talk again soon.

Picking out our tree. I trust this is a traditional Christmas gorilla.