Here is my friend Rose's Christmas story.

STOCKING SURPRISE


Stuffing stockings ready for Christmas morning usually took awhile when the children were so much younger. I had to make sure they were fast asleep and that was the hard part. With all the excitement, they often peeked where I would be doing last minute table setting and even preparing food for Christmas dinner. By the time I was ready to do the stuffing, it would be one or two in the morning.

One last check, and with them fast asleep, I tiptoed down and stuffed the stockings with all the small items I gathered earlier to fit each stocking. As I pick through the pile of stuffers, I imagined my children’s faces every Christmas morning. The stockings were the first to be assaulted – with gusto! It didn’t matter that the items were small. Each item provided varying degrees of surprise. Price didn’t matter. Their faces were worth the previous sleepless night.

My son was 14 and my daughter 9 when their dad and I went our separate ways. The children lived with me and I vowed their Christmas would be as it used to be. Happy and full of surprises! At those ages, they already knew who Santa was. Santa, however, will always be part of our Christmas. It became tradition. Among the presents under the tree, there would always be one for each child from Santa. That goes for Mom, as well as the two cats.

On that first year, weeks before Christmas, I bought the stocking stuffers. This time, I was organized. I gathered them in shopping bags labeled with each child’s name. All I had to do was to take each bag and empty the contents into each stocking. Easy as pie!

Our first Christmas by ourselves was upon us. The kids went to bed at almost midnight. It was late and I was tired. As usual, I finished the table setting and put all the presents under the tree and went to bed.

Christmas day at around 8 a.m. the kids came into my bedroom and woke me up. Tradition dictated that they could take down their stockings only when I was up. So, I got up. They led me into the living room and went towards the stockings.

There was a duet of cries, “Mom!” Instantly, I saw what was wrong. The stockings were empty. Oops, I forgot to stuff them the night before. Too tired, I went to bed, leaving the stuffers in the shopping bags still hanging somewhere in my closet.

I laughed. They laughed with me. They teased me about forgetting. I retrieved the shopping bags and sheepishly gave it to the kids. That was the first and last time I forgot about the stockings.

My son is 24 and my daughter almost 20 now. True, I have stocking stuffers tucked in a secret place in my bedroom – ready for Christmas morn. That Christmas long ago when I forgot remains fresh in my memory. I will remember this time.