Christmas Blog Party: The Christmas Baby Edition

I am a Christmas baby. Specifically, the day after Christmas.

With a birthday so close to Jesus’, it has always been hard for me to get jazzed about Christmas and Santa and caroling and decorating. And every time I tell someone my birthday -- be it at the drivers license office, filling out paperwork for overpriced health insurance, whatever – they always tell me about someone they know that has a birthday around Christmas.

Then comes the question:

 “Do you get shafted with gifts? Do some people get you something for Christmas AND your birthday? That happens all the time to my friend Soandso Whatsherface. I bet that sucks.”

 Christmas and birthdays are, apparently, all about gifts.

 What they don’t know is that I’m not an only child. In fact, I’m about the furthest you can get from being an only child: I have four siblings. And, while the whole Christmas/birthday thing sucked, my parents tried to make up for that by giving me a gift on each of my siblings’ birthdays (sometimes two on my twin sisters’ birthday).

 That eased the material pain, but there’s always been one thing that I’ve always missed out on that seems like a rite of passage for most non-Jehovah’s Witnesses: the birthday party. I’ve never had a birthday party on my birthday. (For the record, my mom tried the whole “Christmas in July” birthday party. July is during the summer, though, which means that you are not in school and half of your friends are going to be on vacation. It sucked.)

 And, not unlike most self-centered American youths, I was always too busy thinking about MY birthday to really put some thought into the whole Santa ruse. Also, you kind of resent the holiday altogether since all of the nativity sets and garland around your parents house overshadow the haphazard birthday bunting and last-minute cake.

 Then again, I guess you could say that I never stopped believing in Santa.

 My parents still label the gifts they give their kids and kids-in-law with “From: Santa.” I guess you could say that, in a way, I never believed in him. I always knew who to thank for the packages I would hastily rip open with tags written in my father’s jaunty cursive. Even the year that all five kids ripped through the packaging to find our first-ever family computer and insufferably loud dot-matrix printer, we knew our dad was behind it.

Now that I’m older, and hopefully a little wiser, I know that birthdays and Christmas and holidays are really all the same. They’re opportunities for a day off and a chance for you to count your blessings, and trust me, I am blessed.

Joanna writes about knitting, her lovely chickens, and living in Texas at Driving Miss Dallas. She has graced the Wonju Wife for quite some time now with her great sense of humor and sweet comments.

Christmas Blog Party: The Training Bra Edition

Which came first the training bra or giving up on Santa?

I was in fifth grade when I stopped believing in Santa.

How old was I? Who knows. I moved a lot and used the grade I was in as the marker. For example: in fifth grade I lived in Texas and thought I was Janet Jackson. Regardless of my years, I was still believing in Santa way longer than other kids.

It wasn’t just that I was idealistic. I had done scientific research on the subject.

Just like most, I had tested this Santa business in the usual ways. Sealing the letter before my parents could snatch it. Putting it in the mail myself. I was all about quality control. And yet, each and every year there beneath the tree was exactly what I wanted.
Mind boggling.

However, above and beyond all my tests I had hard proof that Santa existed. And it wasn’t from the cookie crumbs or letters with golden reindeer hooves. I KNEW Christmas morning after Christmas morning that there was no way my parents could afford the presents I received.

Santa was not just my sugar daddy. He made dreams come true.

For me, it was always about the feeling of Santa. I don’t remember ever trying to catch Santa. I don’t remember trying to hear him on the roof or calculate how he got around the world. That would be cheating, and besides Santa is about the magic of giving, not the catching. Instead, I would shut my eyes hard repeating to myself that the quicker I fell asleep the quicker it would be Christmas. The quicker Santa would work his magic.

Christmas is still my favorite time of year. As I write I am nursing my paper cut wounds from my self inflicted Christmas card mill. I’d like to think that while I stopped my letters to Santa after fifth grade I still embody the sentiment. Each year, without fail, there are presents under the tree from Fashion Santa, Epicurious Santa, and Literary Santa. Turns out Santa has diversified.

We are all Santa if we choose to be.

Claire reads incessantly, writes about all things literary , and ends every post with a perfect quote at Even Pretty Girls Need to Read. She has been leaving inspiring and encouraging comments at Wonju Wife for something like a year. She also read Twilight. Just sayin'.

Christmas Blog Party: The End of Childhood Edition

I don't remember when I stopped believing in Santa Claus. I don't remember the putting together the facts that just didn't add up - the fat man, the skinny chimney, the flying mammals that weren't bats, and the way that Santa's favorite cookies, which I left on the mantel, just happened to be the same as Dad's. 

What I do vividly remember, though, is the way my mom's face looked when I told her I knew Santa wasn't real. We were taking an early-December walk through my neighborhood, looking at all the Christmas lights, when I dropped the big news of my knowledge. I think, ever-practical child that I was, I didn't want my mother to go out of her way to go through the Santa motions needlessly. When I told her, she dropped down to her knee, put her hands on my shoulders, and just stared at me with the saddest look in her eyes.

I don't have brothers or sisters, and it was clearly a look that feared this was the beginning of the end of my childhood, her only baby's childhood. Looking back, I know that Christmas died a little bit for my mother that day. Although we've carried on our many holiday traditions through the years, they are just a little bit deflated without a need for the Christmas play that parents put on each year. 

This year, for the very first time, I have a full-sized Christmas tree in my very own house. I've hung stockings above my fireplace. I might even buy some of those poinsettias everyone loves so much. But I know, when the time comes and I have children of my own, I'll be bundling them into the car and driving down I-95 to my mother's house each Christmas. I'd love for her to have the joy of playing Santa again, and for all that she's done for me, it's the least I can do. 

Sarah is a DC blogger writing about her training, triathlons, and pup Cooper at Was It For This. She has been blessing Danielle with her kind words since last year.

Christmas Blog Party: The HubbO Edition

Hello readers! I am Wonju wife's Hubbo, Kenny. I seldom write comments here but I must tell you that I am one of the frequent (but quiet) visitors, and one of the most dedicated mental supporters of this blog. I come here mainly to check how many pieces of cake she got from the recent blog post, because it determines the size of the smile today, not only for Wonju Wife but also for me. Whenever you guys leave lots of comments, she gets really excited like a puppy in the snow. She dances in the kitchen, rolls her body on the floor, plays drums on her belly, and lays a cutest fart on me as a finale. I laugh with her and I become happy too. So remember! You can bring incredible cheer to our little family with your little finger movement.
Now it's time for the Christmas party! I am going to tell you my Santa spoiler story.

Basically Koreans do not have a long history of the Christmas tradition although we have over 100 years of Christian history. Of course, now we have a big Christmas business and all the department stores are competing like crazy to show how much money they can possibly waste on the lighting decorations. But still it is really hard to say that we have a Christmas tradition for families.

In my father's time, Christmas was just one of the cold days. Free rice cakes or sugar candies from the town church were only things you could associate with the night of Christmas Eve. Besides, to get that treat, you should be a church-goer, or if not, you should promise that you will come to church every week. My dad never got Santa's presents, and although my mom received some Christmas gifts because my mom's father was a pastor, they weren't from Santa. They didn't know about Santa or simply couldn't afford to have him around.

When I was a kid, winter was always harsh for my mom. Struggling with my dad's humble salary, she could barely afford to buy the coal briquettes to heat the house and the cabbages to make winter kimchi. My mom, however, tried hard to give us some 'Christmas' in the western manner. She cut the wiggly pine tree branches from the forest on the small hill near my house. She decorated with cotton snow, some bells and balls, but no lights. For Christmas dinner, she put palm size choco pies with candles on the table while we ate seaweed soup and rice. At night she snuck into my and my sister's room and put our gifts next to our pillows. They were really practical, stuff like socks and pencils which she needed to buy for us anyway, but it worked. My sister and I were thrilled to find the surprise in the morning.

She was missing something, though. Santa. She didn't care much about Santa, or she didn't know how to play Santa since she never met the man. Now I think I didn't care either then. I of course knew about Santa, and I kind of believed in him. But he was just in my prayers, like God, not in real life.

However, one card from Santa changed everything.

I think I was nine or ten. On Christmas Eve, I pretended to sleep, waiting for my mom to come into my room. I knew she would put some gift on my pillow before she went to bed and I just wanted to see her do that. I heard the carol choir singing and my mom and my dad talking with the carolers and giggling, and I waited and waited.

I woke up in the morning and found a gift box on my pillow as usual, but this time with a card.
'근하에게
즐거운 성탄절!
산타클로스로부터‘ (To Kenny, Merry Christmas, from Santa Clause)

It was a belt with a buckle that had the picture of flying Astro Boy in the middle. Astro Boy was the most popular animation character then, and immediately I knew I was going to be the coolest boy in my apartment. And the card! Oh my god! I got a gift from Santa! I couldn't believe my eyes. I hoorayed and took the card to my parents to show it off. Wait a minute. Did my mom do this? Better ask.

"Mom I got a gift from Santa! It says Santa here!...did you do this?"

"No, it says 'from Santa.' Then it's from Santa, not me, isn' it?" Mom said.

"Dad, did you do this?"

"No, why would I? I'm not Santa. I'm your dad, aren't I?"

"Yeah, you are right," I grinned.

I went out to the play ground, and I opened my coat so everyone could see my awesome belt from Santa. The kids were playing with glass beads on the frozen sand. They were too busy to notice my new belt from Santa. So, I had to announce properly that I got my Astro Boy belt and that it was officially sent from Santa.

The kids saw my belt in astonishment and seemed pretty impressed. But Un Gyum, the boy who always hung out with younger kids to boss around them, sneered at me. "Hey dummy! There's no such thing as Santa. Do you still believe in Santa like a baby? The gifts from Santa are actually from your parents, you idiot. "

Huh! I was angry to hear that, but at the same time, I felt sorry for him. Probably he never received a gift from the real Santa.
"You know what? Actually I thought the same thing, so I asked my parents directly about it. They said they didn't do it. They didn't doooo it. Hello?"

"Then your parents are lying," the jerk said.

Then one of the kids (I think it was Suk Hyun) there helped me.
"His father is a pastor. Pastors cannot lie. It is illegal!" All the kid there nodded their agreement and I sensed my victory.

"My parents are not liars. Santa is real. I bet my life on it." I ended this argument showing my absolute conviction of the ultimate truth.

I happily lived for a while like a normal boy who believed in Santa. But it didn't last very long. I think it was around March when I was crying for a new school bag. My mom said 'NO'. I was sad and angry, because I really wanted to have a new bag. My birthday was coming, so I thought I should get it. So I whined, complaining to my mom.
"You never buy me anything. You never care about what I want!"

"Really? I don't buy anything for you? What is that you are wearing now? Where did you get your shoes? I bought them for your New Years present. What about your Astro Boy belt? I bought it for your Christmas present. What about all the stuff in your room..........."

Astro Boy belt for Christmas? So it was my mom and not Santa. The world got white. I couldn't hear anything. Because I bet my life on that guy.

I lost my real Santa then. But my mom kept doing her own Christmas ritual. Every Christmas morning I woke up and found a wrapped gift sitting on my pillow. I knew it was Mom, fake Santa. The strange thing was that I kept waiting for fake Santa. I think I am still waiting.

Kenny writes about his life, his wife, and his art (in Korean) at The Awesome Plan. He has been listening to Danielle talk since October 2006. And he should get some kind of award for that.

Why I Love My Job (most days)

Why I Love My Job from danielle buckley on Vimeo.

Please disregard my purple underwear that make an appearance in this video. Because those are my fat jeans. And although I'm getting ChubbO again, the fat jeans still fall down (so I feel like there's hope left. Maybe?)

And yes, all choreography is original. Thank you. I know I'm talented and someone should pay me to make up dances for kindergartners. Actually, the "wooooaahh, wooooaahhhh"  bits are inspired by childhood ski trips in which Holly (The Sisda) used to cabbage patch it down the bunny hill all wrapped up in her snowsuit. So, thank you for your inspiration, Hols.

Plus also, aren't my kids adorable??

Save the Date(s)!

So, you're pumped, right? Oh, come on, even the Grinch would love this party. The miracle of the season is that I found 9 amazing bloggers (okay, my sister isn't a blogger, but she's cool enough to be one, so we're counting her, too!) to share their Santa disillusionment stories. Please be warned this Christmas Blog Party is rated NSFS (Not Safe for Santa) and is not suitable for small children or those still living the Jolly Old St. Nick dream. You've been warned! Also, there may be embarrassing pictures, too. Woot.

I'm the 10th blogger, by the way. Just in case you were all thinking "Oops. Danielle's been doing math again! She's got the party going for 10 days, but only 9 bloggers." You would be WrongO. Because I totally counted the days and the people on my fingers more than twice.  So make sure you put this Christmas Party on your calendar. EVERY DAY UNTIL CHRISTMAS DAY.

You may now leave a comment or two about how excited you are and how you're going to listen to Christmas carols, eat candy canes, and generally spread good cheer in anticipation for the ultimate Christmas Blog Party. I will thank you for your awesome comments in advance. Because I live off of them, people!

"An Award of Some Sort"

So there was this one time... when I got an award. I lived off my blog award high for days, I tell you. Well, last night was pretty much a repeat of the last time, only I had a husband to yell at, so I didn't have to squueeeee only to myself and my computer screen. So, when I saw Amber's comment, I shouted, "I got an award! I got an award! I got an award!" until Kenny finally came into the office to see what I was going on about. 


And then I told the new girl at work that I got an award. And she was seriously impressed, let me tell you. And then I told her it was for my blog. And she said, "Oh, cool," but her face was like, "I can't believe you're actually talking out loud about the Internet and that's the 5th time today so maybe you should get a real life and stop promoting yourself and bragging about your ridiculous blog." 
So, I gave her this look that was like, "Whatev. My blog is so totally cool and now I'm going to make you my friend on Facebook so you have to see all my links to my blog and you won't have any excuse not to read it in between classes." 
And then she gave me this look with the side of her face that said, "I'm not looking at you anymore because we're at work and I am a productive part of this establishment and I actually do work here. Unlike you." 
And I was all, "Dang, she's doing work. Maybe I should do work. Or, I could just look at the Internet some more. Or eat a hamburger." 
So, basically, I announced my award to two people. And that just wasn't enough. So, I'm announcing it here, too. Which I am required to do, by blog law, actually. 
The Honest Scrap Blog Award Laws: 

1) List 10 HONEST, personal (or bizarre? interesting?) things about yourself that you wouldn't normally tell people (except maybe your husband because he has to pretend to listen to this kind of stuff for free?)

2) Pass this award on to 10 other bloggers that you love to read & think others should too.

3) Tell your friends to check out the award giver's blog: So, I got this awesome love-handle-warming (yeah, the love handles are back, my friends, sorry to spring that on you) award from the lovely Amber, who is obviously awesome because her blog opens with a Kurt Vonnegut quote. 

My list of 10 Honest Things You May or May Not Be Aware Of

1. I am lazy when it comes to personal hygiene. Not like showers and stuff (most of the time), but little stuff like making sure I don't have a unibrow, or cutting the dagger toenails, or moisturizing, or shaving my legs. In fact, I can't remember the last time I shaved my legs. Maybe in August? Hmm.....

2. I don't know how to cook. Seriously. Grilled cheese is my specialty. It makes my life more stressful. 

3. I desperately want to Save Tibet. But I haven't figured out how to get around China yet. 

4. I'm tired of generalizations about Korea. Just all around over it. 

5. I go through productive and then incredibly unproductive phases at work. I will work really hard for two weeks and get my stuff together for real. I will have thoroughly thought-out lesson plans and activities. Then, I will go for a week without doing crap. I will use all my breaks to eat donuts, drink coffee, fart around on the Internets, and generally dread my classes. I know that these weeks make my life harder, but it's like I can't be on point all the time. 

6. I dream of having my own talk show on Korean TV. Where I speak perfect Korean and get to interview whoever the heck I want. Plus also, I will have an excuse to hang out with G-Dragon. 

7. I think 10 things is a bit excessive.

8. I get really depressed when I look at myself in the mirror and know that to fix what I see I will have to exercise for the rest of my life. It's extremely overwhelming. 

9. Miso likes to sniff at my bellybutton. 

10. I want to go to bed at the same time every night and wake up at the same time every morning. I think having a sleep routine would be glorious. 

Okay. So, number one and number three are taken care of. Now onto the part where I obligate other bloggers to take part in these shenanigans. 

1. Even Pretty Girls Need to Read. I love Claire's blog. She's thoughtful, always blogging from under stacks of library books, and has what I think is a pretty levelheaded approach to this whole Twilight craziness. 

2. Writing to Reach You. Ashley is a strawberry (what is it with everyone calling everyone a peach? I don't even like peaches. But I loooooove strawberries. So, strawberry it is!) and her writing is consistently vulnerable, honest, and inspiring. I can't imagine how great she must be in real life. 

3. @koreangov. This is satire at its best. Like this. And this. Maybe it's only funny if you live in Korea?

4. The Bloggess. Jenny is as honest as it gets. And she's scrappy, let me tell you. Mom, don't click this one, okay?

5. Life is a Marathon. Melanie is my real life friend. She already knows all those honest things above and she still hangs out with me. So, she's a total strawberry (not a peach, because like I said, I don't like peaches). And she has a cat, Tucker. So she understands about obsessive cat-loving behavior. And she runs a lot. And when I read about her long runs, I feel so tired. It's like exercising through the Internet, for real. 

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

Honestly, I'm tired. It's my bedtime. And I can't be bothered to bother 10 people. So, the 5 of you will have to suffer all by yourselves. 

Belated acceptance speech: I'd like to thank my husband for listening to me talk incessantly about the Internet and the people who live there that I love. Also, I'd like to thank Miso and Bo for not charging any sort of fee and allowing their image to be reproduced as many times as I feel like it. 

Love you all! Good night!