Tag Archives: Christmas

The Christmas Crock-Pot … or not

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It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Godson Reece grabbed the largest present in his stash to open up first during our family Christmas gathering on Sunday.

The surprise for both of us came when he peeled the wrapping paper off the box. You see, there was this big picture of a Crock-Pot on the side of the box.

“Ha, ha – you’re getting a Crock-Pot for Christmas!” said Reece’s dad, my younger brother.

Reece took one look in my direction – the gifter of the yet-unknown present lurking inside the Crock-Pot box – and, from my point of view, it looked like all of the excitement of Christmas had instantly deflated from the normally bubbly seven-year-old.

“Nu-uhhh,” Reece answered his dad; then a sort of question to me, “Are you kidding me?”

I shrugged and smiled.

“Just open it up,” I encouraged.

It was a couple of weeks ago that I took Reece and another nephew and niece to the local farm store to admire the selection of toy John Deere implements. Reece knew the stop was to help me get ideas for Christmas. The kid has just about every John Deere toy imaginable – or so it seems. What I learned that day, however, is that although he may have a small anhydrous tank and a small tractor, he still needs the one a little larger.

A John Deere-loving little boy can never have too many implements of varying sizes to go with his tiny tractors, his medium-sized tractors and his large tractors.

Obviously, Reece knew he was likely going to get something from one of those store shelves for Christmas from his Aunt Julie. And it really didn’t matter if it was a tractor or a disk or a combine – it only mattered that it was green and yellow.

So, you can about imagine the disappointment in his eyes when he thought I bought him a Crock-Pot.

As Reece struggled to pull the tape from the box, other uncles in the room began to tease Reece about his new gift. The more they teased, the more upset he appeared.

The frustration was short-lived though. After getting some help to peel back the tape, Reece soon discovered there was no kitchen appliance whatsoever in his foreseeable future.

He pulled out the tissue paper, unraveled the bubble wrap and got the biggest smile on his face when he discovered a brand new, John Deere hay baler hidden inside.

He may have been pleased with his new Christmas gift, but I think I got the best gift of all – seeing the excitement of Christmas once again through the eyes of a child.

My wish for you is that you take some time this season to enjoy the spirit of the holiday with family and friends. Have a Merry Christmas!

The many faces for Santa Claus

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Up from the basement he arose quietly, bearing gifts that were labeled for the Buntjer family.

His red suit sagged where a round belly should be, his white beard was bushy and his spectacles clean.

Reece chats with Santa.

He boasted “Ho, Ho, Ho” as he walked through the kitchen, sending kids flailing in all different directions.

There was Reece who was anxious to greet the big guy — a John Deere combine he hoped Santa would buy.

Alayna grew wide-eyed and leaped into my arms. She buried her face and whimpered in alarm.

“It’s Santa,” I said. “You can’t be afraid.”

I tried to peel her away, for photos I must take; but she wouldn’t let go … oh, for goodness sake!

Niece Katie was timid, just really not sure. Then she sided with Alayna and hid behind her.

Niece Alayna is scared of Santa.

Adrianna was brave as she reached Santa’s lap. She looked in his eyes as he fumbled in his sack. Her request was a present — it was that easy — and a fluffy snowman would do … nothing too cheesy.

Emily accepted her snowman just fine, there was no whimper, no screamin’ or cryin’.

That was for Kiera, the 16-month-old. She screamed and she hollered, she kicked and she flailed. This big man in red could not hold her, she wailed.

And just as she had everyone’s attention, there sat the Brod-man … he must be mentioned.

For in my photos of that Christmas Eve Day, as Kiera was screaming our little Brody was gleaming.

Kiera wails while Brody raises his hand.

He wanted to sit with this Santa in red, so eager his hand rose above his head.

“Pick me, Santa, pick me,” this 13-month-old thought. “I’m a brave little boy and I’m loved a whole lot. What’s in your sack, Santa, what have you brought?”

So Brody was placed in big Santa’s lap. He stared at the beard, the glasses and cap.

As he accepted his snowman with nary a smile, his daddy was awestruck by his brave little child.

Santa’s sack was now empty, he must be going. Lots of work was awaiting, at least it wasn’t snowing!

With a wave and a “See ya,” our Santa disappeared … no signs of a sleigh or a herd of reindeer.

Great-nephew Brody is awed by Santa.

That didn’t matter, the kids didn’t see — they were too busy, their eyes filled with glee.

Later that night, as stars brightly shone, the families packed up and they headed for home.

“But wait,” nephew Reece said before he could leave. He needed some reindeer poop to give Santa a treat.

He went to Aunt Connie’s platter of candy and plucked off a dropping to place in a baggie.

Santa can have his milk and his cookies, but reindeer poop, well, that’s one-of-a-kind. Just ask this little Buntjer boy, he knows the big guy won’t mind.

(Dear readers, I apologize for the cheesy creativity. I hope you all had a memorable Christmas!)

The holiday house

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When my parents tore down the old two-story farmhouse and built a new home on the farm in 1980, they did so with their current kid-count in mind. There were four bedrooms, a rec room in the basement, a large living room and a counter in the kitchen that had plenty of room for buffet-style serving on the holidays.

Now that it’s just Mom and Dad out there, the space is certainly more than adequate, but I think it will be put to the ultimate test on Saturday.

It’s going to be Christmas at the Buntjer house, and if everyone shows up as expected, there will be 26 people and one dog underfoot. It may just be the biggest gathering the house has ever seen — or at least a close second.

One could say our Thanksgiving gathering at the farm was a practice run. We were six people short of the whole family then, and another six stragglers showed up after the big turkey feast. Even then, our seating was inadequate and we ran out of turkey.

This time around, with a morning brunch and afternoon soups and snacks on the menu, it will more or less be a food free-for-all (graze-fest) after the breakfast bakes are devoured. It’s the perfect menu for the stragglers — those nieces and nephews of mine who would prefer to sleep until noon or later on the days they don’t work.

Mom is already worried about where she’s going to put everyone. We’re anticipating three one-year-olds with high chairs, a four-year-old in need of a booster seat and 22 chairs for the rest of us. The teens and pre-teens will be relegated to the basement (less folding chairs to carry upstairs), and my brothers will probably end up in the living room, eating their food in front of some sports-related TV program.

Throw in the Christmas tree and piles of presents and, well, everyone’s goal will become trying not to slip on wrapping paper or trip over one of the little tikes. (That may sound funny, but poor little Brody and Kiera were each knocked on their diaper-padded backside at least once on Thanksgiving because someone didn’t notice the knee-high munchkins now that they can walk everywhere.)

If we could have a repeat of Sunday’s weather this Saturday, we may not have to worry about tripping over each other indoors. Like Thanksgiving day, we may see a repeat of a football game in the front yard, and 4-wheeler rides out to the back pasture.

What a day it will be to have the whole family together — the kids fighting over Christmas presents, the Moms shooing the boys away from the sugar-laden cookies, the guys focused on the TV and the girls breaking out the board games. Oh, I can hardly wait!

Here’s wishing all of you a Merry Christmas!

Molly and the rubber chicken

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While the Buntjer family Christmas won’t be celebrated until this coming weekend, my lovable mutt Molly and I exchanged our gifts on Christmas day. Her gift to me was lots of laughter, which of course stemmed from my gift to her.

Each year since our first Christmas together seven years ago, I’ve purchased gifts for my precious pooch. They’ve ranged from puppy pillows and colorful collars to squeaky toys and tasty treats.

On Saturday, Molly’s gift bag (it had photos of Snoopy on it – perfectly fitting for a canine Christmas present) was filled with a couple of pouches of doggie treats and a squeaky toy.
I sat the gift bag on the kitchen floor of the farm house as Molly looked inquisitively at the one thing she could see – the long neck and face of an  “it’s-so-ugly-it’s-cute” rubber chicken.

She cautiously approached the bag, wrapped her teeth around the chicken’s neck (squeaking it ever-so-gently) and wandered over to the door to sit and whine.

Unbelievable … she completely ignored her doggie treats!

And whine – seriously? My Molly doesn’t whine. She runs like a deer, barks like a drill sergeant and kills snakes with a whip and a roll – but she is not a whiner.

When she realized she wasn’t going to be let outside just yet, she wandered back in my direction. That’s when I noticed a line of drool starting to dangle from her mouth.

I snatched back the toy before the drool dropped, but Molly did not appreciate that. Our little round of keep away was officially under way, but I was at a disadvantage sitting on the kitchen floor. Her nose was even to my nose, and her eyes were intent on the prize – getting back her ugly rubber chicken!

When she successfully pulled it from my hands, she returned to the back door, sat and whined again until the door was opened and she could make a bee-line for her igloo dog house (yes, she has finally succumbed to sleeping in it!)

She did not come out for the rest of the day – not even for Christmas dinner leftovers.

Yes, my dog was really sick … sick with puppy love for a rubber chicken.

A flashlight revealed the problem – Molly was curled around the squeaker and licking it like it was her little baby.

Uh oh – that wasn’t quite the reaction I’d hoped for.

Needless to say, Molly was not happy when I grabbed the ugly chicken once more and started another round of keep away. She was less than thrilled when my bum shoulder sent the squeaker into the snow drift instead of onto the cleared path behind the house, and when she retrieved it she was more determined than ever to race back into the garage and hunker down as far back in the igloo as she could get.

For the first time, I realized I forgot to train Molly one important lesson (well, I’m sure there are many) … she never learned to share her Christmas toys. Maybe my parents ought to have a talk with her about that!

Where are you Christmas?

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I was running some errands over my lunch hour on Tuesday when a favorite Faith Hill song began flowing from my radio.

“Where are you Christmas? Why can’t I find you? Why have you gone away?
“Where is the laughter you used to bring me? Why can’t I hear music play?”

I began to sing along — a bit off-key, I’m sure — as I drifted toward thoughts of Christmases past.

Where are you Christmas? I know you’re just four days away, but it sure doesn’t seem like it. Maybe it’s because our family won’t be gathering until New Year’s.

Then again, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t feel like Christmas because I’ve lost that magical feeling about the holidays. Christmas as an adult is so much less fun than Christmas as a child.

“My world is changing. I’m rearranging. Does that mean Christmas changes too?”

As a child, it always seemed to take forever for Christmas to come and, when it was all over we were too preoccupied with our new toys to despair about how quickly the presents were opened, the parties over and the decorations removed from the tree.

It seemed like we had Saturday morning practices the entire month of December to prepare for the church Christmas program. And then there were the school Christmas concerts, the 4-H Christmas party potluck and the annual Christmas trek over the river (Minnesota River) and through the woods (of North Redwood) to grandmother’s house in Kandiyohi County.

“Where are you Christmas? Do you remember the one you used to know?
“I’m not the same one; See what the time’s done. Is that why you have let me go?”

My Christmas tree has been up and decorated since Thanksgiving, the lights have sparkled and the presents have neatly been stashed underneath.

Each night for the past month, I’ve sat mere inches away from the tree as I’ve worked calluses into the tips of my fingers trying to finish up my latest needlework project for nephew Matt. I’ve been so busy stitching that I haven’t even taken the time to soak up the Christmas spirit.

Each year, for at least one night, I like to sit in the dark and admire my illuminated tree — no distracting sounds from the TV, just the sparkle of the lights bouncing off the ornaments and me with my thoughts of the holiday.

“I feel you Christmas. I know I’ve found you. You never fade away
“The joy of Christmas stays here in silence — fills each and every heart with love.”

Here’s wishing all of you a merry Christmas. May you find the spirit of the season within you and have safe travels wherever the holidays may take you.