Let me start by saying that I love my mom dearly. She's a great lady, and an even better mother. She thinks about her kids before she thinks of herself...unless it is Christmas morning. When Christmas morning rolls around, she makes everyone in the whole family put on these incredibly lame Christmas tee shirts that started losing their charm somewhere around 5th grade. It's not just the immediate family, either. This is a massive family portrait with cousins, uncles, aunts, and whoever is within thirty feet of the front door who can fit into one of these shirts. My sister and I hate it.
My poor sister and I are the two who seem to suffer the worst from this trial by t-shirt. There is only two years between us, and we go to the same university across the state. I picked her up on the morning of Christmas Eve and we started driving, knowing exactly what was waiting for us at the end of the trip. Some pained smile on our faces while we stand in front of a hot fire, cook slowly for a few minutes, and wear something with a cute animal on the front of it. My little sister looked at me and said, "You know she's going to post them on our Facebook wall this year. She told me. I'm not doing it. No way."
"Mom's putting them on Facebook? Is she tagging us in the photos, too?" I said, quite shocked as my sister just nodded solemnly. If my mother put those pictures on Facebook, I would never hear the end of it. I mean, these shirts sometimes had kittens on them. Or even worse, there was one year when she made us wear matching shirts that had a moose on them with Christmas lights strung all through its antlers. I can't let this happen. I just looked at my sis and said, "Yeah, I'm with you. No pictures this year."
We arrived with gifts in tow. Everyone was already there, so I had to go through the long gauntlet of hugs from aunts and uncles that I only see once a year. My grandmother still insists on pinching me, so I had to endure through that as well. I knew I could relax because the tees never come out until the end of the night, and there were hours yet and a big meal to eat before that time came. I enjoyed the food and the family a great deal, ate my pie, and had lots of fun with the kids playing Xbox.
Mom had lured me into a false sense of safety. She was quite crafty like that, I had learned over the years. She stopped me on my up the stairs and held out the dreaded thing to me. The Christmas shirt selection this year were a bright red with rhinestone snowflakes all over the front. Rhinestones were the worst, and this was the first time she had gotten them. I guess the extra money was worth the extra shame it would cause me. I smiled weakly and went upstairs, wondering how I would break it to mom that I was not going to do the picture this year.
I knew by the look on her face and by the fabric in her hands that my sister had been targeted first. She looked miserable and I knew images were flashing through her brain of her friends laughing and pointing at her as they held up blown-up copies of her Christmas t-shirts picture at basketball games. I sighed and she looked up, sharing a glance with me that lasted for a hair longer than a heartbeat. "See you at the picture tomorrow, sis." We both knew that mother could not be denied. She had won yet again.
My poor sister and I are the two who seem to suffer the worst from this trial by t-shirt. There is only two years between us, and we go to the same university across the state. I picked her up on the morning of Christmas Eve and we started driving, knowing exactly what was waiting for us at the end of the trip. Some pained smile on our faces while we stand in front of a hot fire, cook slowly for a few minutes, and wear something with a cute animal on the front of it. My little sister looked at me and said, "You know she's going to post them on our Facebook wall this year. She told me. I'm not doing it. No way."
"Mom's putting them on Facebook? Is she tagging us in the photos, too?" I said, quite shocked as my sister just nodded solemnly. If my mother put those pictures on Facebook, I would never hear the end of it. I mean, these shirts sometimes had kittens on them. Or even worse, there was one year when she made us wear matching shirts that had a moose on them with Christmas lights strung all through its antlers. I can't let this happen. I just looked at my sis and said, "Yeah, I'm with you. No pictures this year."
We arrived with gifts in tow. Everyone was already there, so I had to go through the long gauntlet of hugs from aunts and uncles that I only see once a year. My grandmother still insists on pinching me, so I had to endure through that as well. I knew I could relax because the tees never come out until the end of the night, and there were hours yet and a big meal to eat before that time came. I enjoyed the food and the family a great deal, ate my pie, and had lots of fun with the kids playing Xbox.
Mom had lured me into a false sense of safety. She was quite crafty like that, I had learned over the years. She stopped me on my up the stairs and held out the dreaded thing to me. The Christmas shirt selection this year were a bright red with rhinestone snowflakes all over the front. Rhinestones were the worst, and this was the first time she had gotten them. I guess the extra money was worth the extra shame it would cause me. I smiled weakly and went upstairs, wondering how I would break it to mom that I was not going to do the picture this year.
I knew by the look on her face and by the fabric in her hands that my sister had been targeted first. She looked miserable and I knew images were flashing through her brain of her friends laughing and pointing at her as they held up blown-up copies of her Christmas t-shirts picture at basketball games. I sighed and she looked up, sharing a glance with me that lasted for a hair longer than a heartbeat. "See you at the picture tomorrow, sis." We both knew that mother could not be denied. She had won yet again.
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