The Christmas I was sixteen, I dated a guy. (I know, what’s the shocker there, eh?) I had actually been dating him off and on for two years. His mom was very big into crafts, and he gave me an item that she’d made. It was an embroidery hoop, with lace stretched over both surfaces, and potpourri inside. Lace was glued around the edges of the hoop, and plastic flowers decorated the front. It was very pretty, fairly simple, and most importantly, a craft that I, being craft impaired, could actually succeed at when I tried. So I bought all of the supplies and got cracking. When it was time for the flowers that I needed to decorate the front, I pulled them off the stems and, in a fit of teenage smartypants, handed the empty stem to my mother. “Here you go! Flowers for you!” Instead of being upset, she began to reminisce about flowers I’d brought to her as a toddler, which were really empty stems, resembling the ones I’d just given her. Not understanding what it really meant to her, I took that stem and wrapped it up and gave it to her for Christmas, calling it my “fleurs” - I was taking French at the time. When she opened the “fleurs” and smiled, I didn’t really “get it”. We traded that empty stem back and forth for years, and each year, I understood the significance of the gift more and more.

Last year, I decided to give my husband his first cell phone. I spent hours picking out just-the-right-one, bought a new ring tone, set the display to larger print so it’d be easier for him to read (he’s of the reading glasses age now), and entered everyone’s phone numbers. I wrapped it, stuck it under the tree, and waited with breathless anticipation for the right time. When we were almost finished with gifts, I called it and had it ring for him. I was so excited. He hated the phone. HATED it. And let everyone know. It was the wrong color, the wrong ring tone, and the wrong everything. I cried for two days.

Twice, I’ve had a baby three days before Christmas and returned home on Christmas Eve. Sticking the newest baby inside a Christmas stocking - now, THAT’s a tradition I’ll bet many people don’t have! The sight of a teeny, red faced, squalling baby peeking out of the top of a large sock is a memory that I’ll treasure - especially now that one of those Christmas babies is wearing eyeliner and chatting up boys.

When we had a new baby in the house one year, my daughter went to the Santa shop at school. She came home and told me of the wonderful knit baby hat that she’d bought for her brother. I didn’t realize that they had sold baby hats, and when I looked at her purchase, I realized why - she’d bought a crocheted toilet paper cover.

What are your most fond Holiday memories? Did you make a memory that carries forth to this day? Make a fool of yourself? Buy the best gift ever, receive a gift so thoughtless you still puzzle over the intentions of the giver?

Share some of your memories here, with all of us.