How the Ya Ya Sistahs saved Christmas

There’s an excerpt from the book Eat, Pray, Love  that I love.  Liz (played by Julia Roberts in the movie) is describing her pragmatic sister Catherine, and she tells this story:

A family in my sister’s neighborhood was recently stricken with a double tragedy, when both the young mother and her three-year-old son were diagnosed with cancer.  When Catherine told me about this, I could only say shocked, “Dear God, that family needs grace.”  She replied firmly, “That family needs casseroles,” and then proceeded to organize the entire neighborhood into bringing dinner, in shifts, every single night….

Substitute the word “family” for “neighborhood“, and you have an excellent depiction of my Ya Ya Sistahs.  Judie is the Head Ya Ya in Charge.  Valerie, Ya Ya # 2, is milder in nature but brings it every bit as strong.  And then there are my nieces, the honorary Ya Ya’s, Blane and Trevor, Kim and Kenadi.  Together, those Ya Ya Sistahs saved Christmas for my little ones this year.

You see, I am typically the Christmas Nazi.  The tree must be Real and Perfect (well, Perfect in a ghetto baby kind of way).  The stockings are hung by the chimney with care.  The presents are assembled and wrapped well in advance.  The railing is decorated with garland.  The nativity scene is centered on the buffet in the dining room….  You get the picture.  Well, this year, the Christmas Nazi couldn’t bring it.  I had no capacity to put the “Merry” in “Christmas”.  And I had no intention of trying. 

So I did the only thing any self-respecting mother of three high-Christmas-expectation-having children could do:  I bought four plane tickets, and I headed to New Orleans to visit the Ya Ya Sistahs.  And the Ya Ya Sistahs saved Christmas.

I arrived late in the day on December 23.  I came broke, and bearing no gifts.  I had made one trip to Target, and bought a fraction of the Christmas wish list before leaving the store downtrodden.  Beat down by the Bey Blades.  Confused by the Cupcake Maker.  Dejected by the Disney Princess.  Crushed by the Cars and trucks and trains and, well, the heavy metal.  So there I was with three kids and no gifts — two days before Christmas. 

“I have to go to Toys R Us,” I told Head Ya Ya.  Her head spun around 3 times, and I could see the response in her eyes:  “The hell you do!”  You see, the Ya Ya Sistahs have one firm rule: 

The Ya Ya Sistahs do NOT keep your kids for you. 

Oh no!!!  They know there’s that ever so slight chance you might not come back.  And they know my kids.  So instead, off Head Ya Ya went to Toys R Us. She parked on the median across the street from the mall, the only parking space available.  She shopped for 4 hours and stood in line for 6 more before coming back with games, tea sets, Disney lap tops, dolls and cars and games and…stuff.

“I have to go to Best Buy.  J. wants a DSiXL…or something like that,” I told Ya Ya #2. 

“I got this,” was her reply.  And off she want to Best Buy and came back with the DSi thingy and games and accessories and…stuff!

And then there was the house filled with cousins and friends and PaPa and Uncle Boe and Uncle “Da-dez” and Uncle Jeffery and all the kin folk, you know, the kind that don’t see your kids often and, therefore, think they’re really, really cute.  Never mind that Uncle Jeff didn’t notice that, when he picked my little one up, his pants stayed behind on the floor.  He was with family, and he was happy.  The cousins played UNO and Chutes and Ladders with the kids, and they produced and choreographed dance routines while I…sat at the bar, talked smack and laughed with the family, young and old!  It was a beautiful thing!

Christmas dinner started arriving 9am on Christmas Eve.  We had gumbo and greens and green beans and stuffing and stuffed peppers and turkey and ham and pork roast and sweet potatoes and bread pudding and cake and…..  I snapped the green beans.  I looked very sad.  And then I sat at the bar with the family, young and old.  (For those who don’t know me, I must say that I’m quite entertaining at the bar — and I don’t even drink!)

I didn’t have to buy or make or pick up ornaments for the Chritmas tree.  Head Ya Ya’s Christmas tree was 10 feet tall and flocked and ABSOLUTELY “bougie”.  And it had peacocks and humming birds and ribbons and beautiful works of art on it.  And then she topped it with…well, what looked like the world’s biggest lilac bath sponge.  I mean it was enormous and purple and fluffy and it made me want to…bathe or shower or something!  To her credit, Head Ya Ya did eventually give up on the bath sponge tree-topper, but the stand up comedy act that assailed for the 15 minutes or so that she tried to make it work was Ya Ya Priceless.  When Head Ya Ya was done, though, the tree was Perfect.  And not in a ghetto baby kind of way, either.

The day after Christmas, the kids and I headed home.  Head Ya Ya, afraid we might make a plea to stay longer, found her biggest suitcase and packed all of Santa’s goodies…the dolls and cars and balls and trains and, well, the stuff.  And then she loaded us all into the car, drove us to the airport, walked us to the gate, and stood there to make sure that we ALL got on the plane and that the door closed behind us.  Firmly.  Head Ya Ya’s work was done. 

And that’s how the Ya Ya Sistahs saved Christmas!  They each showed up, some from near, and some from far.  And they each showed their love and support in their own Ya Ya way!

Well done, Ya Ya’s.  Well done!