Santa Claus, and ho-ho-ho, deck them halls, and all that stuff.

Two years ago, I blogged about how grateful I was to no longer be in the retail industry for the Christmas Season. At the time, I felt lucky to avoid that crazy mall rush, with the exception of those occasions where I had to go purchase cat food or beer.

It was a time of excessive drinking, excessive smoking, and little responsibility. No, that's not right... There was responsibility, I simply chose to ignore it. I was working a sort of government job, which allowed my lifestyle of indulgence to flourish over the holiday season. Every other day seemed to be a paid day off, which would inevitably be spent bringing part or all of my paycheck to the LCBO to stock up on holiday cheer.

Boy, how times have changed.

This year, I'm working in a commissioned retail position, and loving every minute of it. It's not like any of my consumer electronics jobs of the past, although until very recently I was doing that as a second job also. Then I decided I was worth more than $8.85 an hour and am now putting all my concentration on job number "A".

Anyway, now the paychecks go to things like paying bills, saving for my negative one month old baby girl, and the life-style I want to provide for my family. I've been shifting slowly into this mindset (wallet-set?) over the past 8 months, but with setting up the Christmas tree that shift seems to have finally gone firmly into gear.

I want my little one to have Christmas like I had Christmas. Filled with magic and family. By magic, I mean home-made gifts and baking; a tree trimmed with a generous proportion of child made ornaments - pine cones painted and dipped in glitter, popcorn strings, and the like; Nana Mouskouri belting out Christmas carols in a dozen different languages, and my sister and I getting up early on a Saturday morning, not to watch cartoons, but to light the tree and play "I spy" with the ornaments.

I recall one Christmas, when I was in grade one, which really defined the season for me. I compare every other Christmas to it. It would have been 1982. Algoma steel was on strike, meaning my father was out of a job, I had a crazy grade one teacher who would explain to the class exactly what the cold-war was and why we should be afraid of it, and Jedi was still a year from being released...and yet, it was the best Christmas ever.

We lived in Gros Cap at the time on a heavily forested chunk of land. Somewhere around mid-December my sister, my father and I went out onto the property to hunt and cut down the perfect Christmas tree. Once we got it home, my dad cursed over tangled lights and beads, while my sister and I set up the nativity scene. My sis' would complain that I kept putting baby Jesus on the roof, and my mother would say to let me have my way, as I was just a kid.

Presents that year were largely of the home-made variety. I recall a big wooden chest filled with a plastic building set, similar to Mechano, but with gears and sprockets, and they were all separated by size and type into custom sized compartments. Looking back on it, I must say having a finishing carpenter for a father was a pretty cool thing. I think that was also the year that he made desks for my sister and I, and if it was, that would also be the year I discovered Santa Claus wasn't entirely real.

It was tradition on Christmas eve, that we'd go over to Memere's for dinner and gifts, and while we were there, Santa would visit our house and lay gifts under the tree for when we returned. Once we got in the car, my folks would always forget something in the house and have to go back in. What they had forgotten, of course, was to play Santa and set out the presents.

The year of the desks, it took so long for them to move said furniture from it's hiding spot in my dad's workshop to the living room, and I was bugging my sister SO much about the time it was taking them while waiting in that cold car, that she finally gave in and told me the truth.

So, there you have it. My best Christmas ever. I want my child to have x-mas memories like I do. Not necessarily the same memories, but ones as vivid and warming, to say the least.

I'm kind of afraid to say it, wife, but I think our baby girl will need a little brother or sister eventually.

And by the way....I sometimes still like to put baby Jesus on the roof. :-P