Christmas Eve, Drip by Drip

I almost always feel reflective this time of year. I’m not entirely sure why—maybe it’s the longing to celebrate the holidays with beloved family members who are no longer here. Maybe it’s because my kids are now adults, and buying for them feels different now. Or maybe it’s just because I’m getting older. I honestly don’t know—and maybe that’s part of it.

Growing up, I loved Christmas Eve. My mum would have an open house, and family and friends would come and go all night.

I’m pretty sure we had a half day of school on Christmas Eve—but it’s entirely possible I’m wrong about that.

Either way, we’d spend the day helping my mum cook, bake, clean, and wrap gifts. Around 4 p.m., we’d finally finish up and get dressed. My sister and I usually went to church with my grandparents. It wasn’t really a church service—there was no sermon, mostly just singing. The last song was always Silent Night, and we’d light candles as we sang. The flame was passed person to person, candle to candle. I always loved the Christmas Eve service.

After church, we’d head home to eat and open presents. My mum always served ziti with sauce, meatballs, and sausage.

At some point during the evening, my Aunt Polly would arrive with at least one of my uncles. Aunt Polly was my paternal grandmother. She had seven boys—which, I know… sounds completely unhinged.

They’d show up carrying giant Santa sacks and plastic bags overflowing with presents.

The original black-and-white Miracle on 34th Street would be on TV. If it was especially cold, my dad would have the wood stove going.

The house would be full—family, friends, good food, and laughter everywhere. And then, all too soon, people would start to leave, and my mum would tell us it was time to get ready for bed.

We’d slowly head to bed, making sure to say goodnight to everyone. The more people we talked to, the longer we could drag our feet. Haha.

I’m pretty sure my mum knew exactly what we were doing.

Eventually, the remaining guests would leave, and I’d finally fall asleep. Sometime during the night, I’d wake up to my sister calling my name.

She wanted to tell me that Santa had come and left presents under the Christmas tree. She “wondered” if I needed to use the bathroom—and maybe we could take a quick peek at the presents piled around the tree.

I think my parents believed that I woke Kris up, not the other way around.

If we spent too much time admiring the gifts, my mum would yell, “Who’s up?”

We’d admit it was us, and she’d tell us to go back to bed—which we would… at least until 7 a.m.

We weren’t allowed to get up before seven, but we were allowed to open our stockings, which Santa left at the end of our beds. Sometimes we’d sneak into the boys’ room, and sometimes the boys would come into ours. We’d sit on the floor and excitedly compare everything in our stockings.

Finally, it would be 7 a.m., and we could wake our parents. And after they got their coffee—which seemed to take FOREVER!!—we could finally open the presents Santa had brought us.

It always seemed so cruel that coffee came before presents.

And back then, coffee wasn’t quick. There were no Keurigs—just an old-fashioned drip coffee maker, slowly doing its thing.

I’m pretty sure my mum didn’t actually make us wait until the coffee was finished, but I know she at least got it started. Still… do you know how long it feels like a pot of coffee takes to brew when you’re a kid waiting to open presents? Drip by drip by drip.

It’s strange to think how different the holidays are now. My mum hasn’t hosted Christmas Eve in many years.

My sister does it now—and she does a fantastic job.

There are no little kids in the family anymore. They’ve all grown up. We have a Yankee Swap (white elephant), because honestly, adults don’t get to open nearly enough presents.

It’s different, but we have a lot of fun.

And as much as I enjoy our current Christmas Eve traditions, I know they’ll probably change again in the next few years.

The “kids” are growing up, and someday they’ll make their own holiday traditions.

And I’ll look back on these days and remember the laughter, the fun, and the crazy, slightly inappropriate swap gifts.

However you’re spending Christmas Eve—surrounded by family, continuing old traditions, creating new ones, or simply enjoying a quiet moment—I hope it brings you a sense of warmth and peace.

From my computer to yours, wishing you a very Merry Christmas and moments worth remembering.

However you celebrate this holiday season, I’m glad you’re here. From stockings to drip coffee to questionable Yankee Swap gifts—if any of this sounds familiar, ⭐ like and share.