Merry Christmas: The Gift that Gave Too Much

Every Christmas Eve my daughter and I opened one gift. It’s usually a box with matching pajamas, a movie, and a game. Even though my baby knew what was in the box, it still made her night.

Imani and I have been on our own since she was four. Her dad and I couldn’t make it work, but he’s a great father.

This year he’s on vacation with his wife. I told him it was trifling to travel for leisure on Christmas when Imani wanted to spend time with him for the holidays. He came over last night to apologize one more time and drop off a gift for my mom. Her precious edibles. My ex’s wife had a bakery shop that included edibles amongst other products. She’s the one who made these for my mom. It was nice of her to make my mom’s favorite and never charge her a dime. However, I was still in my feelings about their trip. Whatever.

Imani had gifts under the tree from her father, so I guess I won’t be mad for too long. Besides, I liked his wife and told her how I felt about it. Apparently, it was a super great all-inclusive vacation deal that they couldn’t pass up. Again, whatever.

Baby girl and I watched Incredibles 2 in 3D, wearing our matching pjs. Being only ten years old, Imani was my partner in crime. Nothing bad, just binge watching and binge eating homemade popcorn. We did everything together. She turned out to be an amazing little girl.

Her father and I worried about his daily absence. We didn’t want it to have a negative effect on her and dedicated ourselves to make sure she felt loved from the both of us. Even when his ass skips out on her favorite holiday.

We sleep in my bed on the night before Christmas after we get popcorn-wasted. It’s not like it’s ever been occupied by two adults. I haven’t dated anyone in six years. It sounds bad, and it is, but I have my hands full with work and Imani. I’ll get to that part of my life another time.

On Christmas morning, I woke up before Imani as usual. I made a cup of coffee and cooked her favorite breakfast food: baked oatmeal with pecans. It never got old.

After about twenty minutes, the aroma of brown sugar and cinnamon filled the air and made its way to my bedroom. All I had to do was wait and I’d hear Imani jump out of bed.

“It’s Christmas!” she exclaimed, running down the hall into the living room where I sat on the couch.
“Merry Christmas, Mommy’s big girl.”
She gave me a hug, “Merry Christmas, Mommy.”
“Whoa, I think you mean Merry Toothpaste. Goodness!”
Imani laughed, facing away from me. “Well, your breath smells like that nasty coffee.”
“How about we both brush our teeth. That breath might melt your gifts.”
“How rude,” she said, laughing.

The both of us freshened up in separate bathrooms before meeting each other in the kitchen.
“When will the food be ready? It smells so good.”
“Not too much longer. You want to start opening gifts?”
“Sure, but can I have a brownie,” she asked, pointing to the container her father left.
“No!” I yelled.
I panicked because she pulled the container toward her when she asked.
“Um, those are a gift from your dad to your grandma. There’s like carrot juice and prune juice in it.”
“Eww, why?”
“Because she’s old. Old people like stuff like that. Trust me, you don’t want any.”

I hated lying, but the truth wasn’t necessary to tell at the moment. Imani knew to stay away from drugs, but she was unaware that the elders in our family did not grow up with the same values. Some of them went off the deep end with it.

My mother stuck to weed. I remember smelling it so much when I was a kid. She’d smoke it in the bathroom as if the smell didn’t travel. Then I’d see the ZigZag papers in her bedroom. They were everywhere. I once saw the bag of weed on her nightstand. By Imani’s age, I definitely knew about my mother’s affair with cannibus.

Growing up with only the two of us, she explained to me how my father got sucked into the other side with drugs and alcohol. It was definitely something she warned me to stay away from. Although, I knew of her recreational use, I did what she said and never touched it.

Mom didn’t even know that her secret wasn’t actually a secret. It came up randomly in a conversation when I was about twenty. She couldn’t stop laughing because she really thought she hid it well. I blamed it on her fried brain cells.

Now that marijuana was legal in our state, she had been having the time of her life. I’d taken her to the local marijuana dispensary too many times to be comfortable with. She hated driving and said she’d call a stranger to take her if I didn’t. So, that’s how I got involved in her habit. I blamed her that I didn’t trust cabs, Uber, Lyft, and whatever else. That damn Bone Collector movie screwed me up.

I usually didn’t get involved past the driving part, but since Imani’s ditched us, I had to smuggle the “goodies” into my mother’s home on Jesus’ birthday. No matter how much I’d tell them to stop this madness, they didn’t.

I pulled the container away from Imani and promised her we’d make some brownies of our own. After ten minutes up wrapping paper flying all over the living room, the oven beeped and Imani stopped immediately. She ran into the kitchen to be the one to open the oven.
“I love that smell.”
“Obviously! You dag near trampled over me. You might as well take it out too,” I told her, pointing to the oven mittens.

She sat the 9×9 glass pan on the counter next to the stove and waved the cinnamony goodness in her direction. It was good, but this girl absolutely went crazy for it.
“You know it needs to cool off first. Don’t forget what happened last time you dug in too soon.”

Imani narrowed her eyes at me because I laughed at her incident last month. The oatmeal burned her tongue. She couldn’t use it for an hour or so without pain.
“Not funny. That really hurt.”
“I know, but it’s still funny. Let’s go open the rest and let it properly cool.”
While opening her remaining gifts, she hugged me like ten times with the “Thank you, Mommy!” squeal. One perk of being the only child was all of the gifts. I had enough to buy for three kids, so she was completely spoiled.

My baby got me candles, body wash, bubble bath soaps, a robe with matching slippers, and some kitchen tools I needed. She understood the struggle with my avocado obsession. Imani bought me a cool avocado tool to slice them and keep them from turning brown once opened.

Her father took her Christmas shopping every year. He even took her to get me birthday presents and Mother’s Day gifts. They did a great job each time. I never received a “what the hell is this?” gift.

We ate our perfectly warm oatmeal and made some brownies. Pecans got another chance to shine this morning. We threw them suckers in everything we baked. Pecans enhanced mostly anything from cookies to pancakes. Not with chicken, fish, or salads. I couldn’t do them with meat.

While they baked, we got ready for our day-long holiday with my mother. Her house was in the middle of everyone, so that’s where we’d meet for family gatherings. If I knew any better, they were already there picking out all of the shrimp in the gumbo.

I complained about it one year since Imani and I loved to wake up and do gifts at home first. She’d get about an hour to play with her new toys before we even got ready to visit. However, it made us later than those without kids.

Now, she puts some of it away for us to take home. Even if I get there later, I know I’d have a meal with all the ingredients it started with.

Once the brownies cooled, we cut them and left for my mom’s. Only Aunt Sima, Uncle Joe, and Aunt Bea’s cars were in the driveway. Grandma moved in with my mom a few years ago after my grandfather died. Those two were something else when they were together. Add my auties’ foul mouths in the mix, it will be a mess once the alcohol started flowing. It was my mission to be gone before that happened. Imani didn’t need to witness the old folks’ bad influence.

One hour in, our bellies were full. I didn’t get the gumbo since Mom stashed some away, but my grandmother fried a turkey with the help of Uncle Joe. It was so freaking good. I’m too scared to try to cook it myself, but I always appreciated it when others risked their lives for this dish.

Everyone else brought sides and we brought desserts. I made sweet potato pies last night and two of the four were already gone. My cousin, Lauren, dropped off the sodas with her homemade fruit and cheese tray. That was all the family would allow her to make. She made some chicken once with light seasoning. It was fully cooked but looked white. After teasing her and making her feel bad, she wasn’t asked to cook anything else.

Since then, she improved tremendously. We cooked dinners together many nights when she wanted to hang with Imani and me. Since they never let it go, she was off the hook and didn’t have to make anything special like the rest of us.

Lauren had some stops to make before returning. I was the youngest one in the house besides Imani. None of my cousins had kids yet. They were all in their early twenties and visited their significant other’s family first. Some of them should start trickling in soon.

Everyone was at the table, while Imani and I sat on the couch. It was basically the same room, so I was a part of the conversation. Imani watched TV and played games on my phone while she waited to go home. After one hour, the excitement wore off and she’d be ready to reunite with her new gifts.

All of a sudden, my aunts slurred and got distracted by the strangest things. Aunt Bea was fascinated by a single strand of hair on the back of her hand. Then she asked questions about hair and our follicles. She theorized most of the answers before anyone could say anything.

Grandma cracked up over what seemed to be an inside joke with herself. Uncle Joe talked to his hand like it was a phone.
“What the hell is wrong with y’all?” Mom asked.
No one answered. They completely ignored her.
“Dana, where are my brownies?” she asked me.
“Imani put them in your room.”
“No, I didn’t. Mommy, you said to put them on the table.”
“No, you were supposed to put the ones we made on the table. I told you to put the nasty ones in your grandmother’s room.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you say that part.”
I looked at my mother. “You don’t think they …”
“Yeah the hell I do. Look at them,” she responded.
“What’s wrong, Mommy?”
“Nothing, boo. Just go into your grandmother’s room and watch TV. We need to have grown-up talk.”
“Okay. Can I have a brownie? I didn’t get one yet”
“I’ll bring to you, baby,” my mother told her.
Once we heard the bedroom door close, we rushed to the dessert table. Only one of the normal brownies were eaten.
“Them damn idiots ate half of my brownies.”
“What does that mean? Will they be okay?”
“Girl, trust me, they have been on worse things than a little weed.”
“Okay, but how much did they eat. It’s only four of them. If half is gone, who ate more than one?”
“Damn, you’re right. Plus, I only need one to feel good.”
“Ugh, Momma. See, this is why you need to stop with the weed.”
“Oh, stop it. Mistakes happen. They will come down in a few hours.”
“But Grandma ate them. Is that safe?”
“I’m sure it is. And it’s not her first rodeo either. You think I only get these for myself?”

Not my poor old grandmother! What the hell was wrong with my family?
There was a loud thud, and my grandmother laughed boisterously. We ran through the kitchen to find Uncle Joe on his back with the chair underneath him.
“I told that fool not to lean back, but he wouldn’t listen. He never did, even when he was a kid. He went bloop,” she explained laughing.
“Speaking of listening, how do we hear things? You ever wonder that? How do sounds happen?” Aunt Bea asked before cupping her ear to listen to nothing.

After helping Uncle Joe up, I asked who had brownies. They all lifted up their hands and cracked up together. I asked who had more than one. Uncle Joe and Aunt Bea were the culprits.

Mom pulled me to the side. “Don’t tell them anything. Give them some water and get that cheese tray. They will be okay with hydration and snacks.”
“But why can’t I tell them they’re high.”
“Because these motherfuckers will ask for more. Trust me.”
I laughed out loud. My mother was something else. All she cared about was keeping her precious edibles to herself.

Mom took her container and hid it somewhere. I grabbed a few of the regular brownies and poured a glass of milk before taking it to Imani.
“Are you done with your talk?” Imani asked.
“Yes, but you can stay in here if you like. It’s boring in there.”
“It always is. But I’m watching a Christmas movie called The Holiday Calendar.”
“Is it for kids?”
“I thought all Christmas movies were for kids.”
“Most of them. As long as there’s not much cursing or that other grown-up stuff.”
“Eww, gross! I don’t think this movie is like that, Mommy.”
“Okay. Turn it off if anything happens that you aren’t supposed to watch.”
“I will.”

Back in the living room, Mom stood in the middle watching everyone.
“I can’t get them to eat or drink,” she said.
“What?”
“Girl, Joe keeps asking for beer. He cannot drink with that stuff in his system.”
“Well, did you hide the drinks?”
“We don’t have any. Nima and Josh are bringing some in a little bit.”
“Then we need to tell them not to.”
“No, we don’t. I will put it in another room. They get good brands. I can stash it away for a rainy day.”
“Only you would take advantage of your niece and nephew.”
“Oh, please. They owe me. You know how many times I had to blow my high and babysit when their mother was on that stuff? I can take a few bottles of wine or whatever for my troubles.”
I rolled my eyes. She was ridiculous.

An article I found on my phone said what Mom told me. We had to keep them hydrated and give them snacks. Some of these tips would be hard to pull off. The least I could do was make them drink water. So, I poured each of them a cup.

When I handed the cup to Uncle Joe, he wouldn’t take it.
“Uncle Joe, you have to drink something. It’s important!”
“I don’t want no damn water. I don’t need it. I’m Aquaman.”
What the hell?
“What? Did you see that movie recently?”
“No. Why would I watch a movie about my own life? You’re not a very bright one are you?”
“I guess not. But doesn’t Aquaman survive on water?” I asked. I knew nothing about that character’s story, but aqua meant water.
“Oooh, you just ignorant. He does not need water to live. He is made of water. Duh,” Aunt Sima said.
She’d been whispering to herself this whole time. I almost forgot about her.
“Okay, well this isn’t actually water. It’s gin. I didn’t want my daughter to know we were drinking.”
“Well, why the hell didn’t you say that, Dana? You dumb like yo’ daddy?” Aunt Sima told me.
“Watch it, Bitch!” Mom snapped.
“Momma!”
“What? She can’t be talking to you like that when I’m around. Calling somebody ignorant. Your ignorant ass can’t even spell it,” she told Aunt Sima.
“Fuck you,” Aunt Sima countered.
“Okay, okay. Everybody calm down. We need to chill,” I said.
Uncle Joe spit the water out onto the floor.
“This ain’t no damn, gin. You trying to poison me?”
“What? No! You need to drink the water. Just drink it,” I demanded.
“Who the hell is you yelling at little girl?” Aunt Bea chimed in.
“I didn’t yell. Lord, have mercy. Momma, I’m about two seconds from cursing everyone out. I need to leave.”
“You can’t leave me with them like this.”
“It’s your fault.”
“I’m not the one who put them on the table.”
“No, but you are the one who had me bring it and now look.”

Uncle Joe poured the water on his pants.
“Look y’all, I pissed myself. Syke!”
“Don’t leave me, Dana.”
“Ugh, fine. We gotta do something. They are tripping hard. Other people are on their way.”

I searched for the list of tips when people take too many edibles. Apparently, we have to find a way to distract them and pass the time. I couldn’t send them home because they couldn’t drive.
“Okay, this article says we should try playing games with them to keep them occupied until they come down.”
“I have some in the den.”
“Good. Let’s do that and try to get these people to eat something.”

Grandma was good, just calm and quiet. I couldn’t say what she was thinking, but it kept her to herself. The other three had to be controlled. Momma had the Taboo game we got her last year. And I brought over Mad Gab. It was a big hit on Thanksgiving.

We asked everyone if they wanted to play and they agreed. If there was one thing my family loved to do, it was playing guessing games. We all thought we were clever enough to beat each other. The competition brought out the best in us all.

Twenty minutes later and a room full of laughter, Imani came out of the room. She told me that we were too loud and she could finish the movie at home with me. She made me promise we’d watch it tonight. It was that good to her. Imani wanted to play with us. I allowed it since she wouldn’t suspect anything. My family was crazy when sober.

Another thirty minutes passed, and other family members arrived. By that time, we had things under control. What could have been a disaster, turned out to be the most excitement I’d had all year with these old folks.
Game after game, the funnier it became. It was the first time Imani didn’t beg to leave before nightfall. She was laughing all night.

I explained the mix up to my cousins. I needed them to take their parents home. Even if they come off their high before they left, I didn’t want to chance it.

Lauren was floored. She took videos and pictures throughout the night. She swore that if she got any more flak from them, she’d post it on social media. Even if she did, I don’t think anyone who knew them personally would see a difference. They were intense and insane on a daily basis.

This Christmas had its highs and lows, but I loved my family through it all.

Not even edibles could bring us down on Jesus’ birthday. 😉

Wanna try Imani’s obsession? Just add pecans!
Baked Oatmeal from Allrecipes.com