Thank Santa!

My mother had her own way about her. She was lovely. Lovely to look at and lovely to be with. She had grown up during The Great Depression. She wasn’t afraid to spend money but she was careful about it.

I think Santa pushed her into spending more than she wanted to at Christmas time. I remember being surprised at the bounty that sat beneath the Christmas tree.

“Thanks for all the nice presents!” I’d say to my parents while helping to pick up all the wrapping paper and bows.

“Thank Santa!” my mother would reply.

I was the youngest in the family. My brothers had already left my mother’s nest. I was the last to go off to college. My mother could postpone her “empty nest” syndrome for a few years. Because? I came home every weekend to work a few shifts at my part time job. To get a home cooked meal. To get my laundry done.

Living in a dorm was pretty great. Oh, the room was never heated. My room mate was nice enough but I wasn’t used to sharing a room. We had a lot of good times but we got on each other’s nerves by the end of a semester. I do remember catching holy Hell from her one time…….for eating a pear in the refrigerator that I thought was mine.

Christmas was coming. Dorm rooms were decorated with swooping strings of Christmas lights. A sad tree sat in the corner of the communal dining room. All students couldn’t wait to take their final exams and go home.

One night the dorm room phone rang. It was my mother on the other end. I immediately felt my heart pump too fast. I assumed someone in the family must be dead! My mother……..the Great Depression Kid……….did not pay long distance telephone fees unless there was an upcoming funeral involved.

“Oh, my God! What’s the matter?” I shouted into the receiver. “Who is dead?”

My mother laughed and told me I was born a drama queen. She said she hoped I made copious amounts of money on the stage after graduation. She reminded me about the time all the neighborhood ladies had come running …….the first time I had seen a worm. I guess I had screamed that loudly.

“I have three minutes, Little Miss Overly Dramatic”. Ma said quickly. “No one is dead. Your father is taking me shopping. Santa asked him what you want for Christmas.”

Ah! So, Santa was going to pay this long distance phone bill. I should have known.

“I don’t know, Ma. You can’t buy me clothes. I need to try things on. I don’t need a coat or boots. Why doesn’t Santa just give me an envelope with some money in it. ” I replied.

It was time to get to the cafeteria before all the butterscotch pudding was gone. All that butterscotch pudding could be the reason why clothing wasn’t quite fitting me right anymore.

A girl walked by my open dorm room. She was wearing a one piece pair of pajamas. With feet. Footsie pajamas. I pulled the phone cord as far as it could go and watched her walk down the hallway. That girl was so beautiful she could pull off footsie pajamas on a runway.

“A new blanket for my dorm bed. Thick. I have frost on my eyebrows right now. And, a pair of footsie pajamas.” I read off my just made up Christmas list to my mother.

“Footsie pajamas……….” my mother…….Santa’s helper whispered down the phone line.

Ma thought I was losing it.

“Yes, they exist obviously. I just saw a girl in the hallway wearing some. They’re not just for babies anymore!” I told my mother knowing that my three minutes were up.

“I got to go, Ma! I’m five minutes late to meet my friends in the lobby for dinner. They’ll go without me. Tell Santa to do his best. Tell him to make everything a size bigger than last year.” I said in a hurry. “Bye!”

I heard her mutter “Jesus! How big has your ass gotten eating all that pizza?” as I hung up.

Exams were finally done. My father came to the dorm to break me out for Christmas. He was kind of chatty on the way home. I heard how many miles he had to drive to pick me up. He confessed that he was pretty sick of this drive. He even leaked that he had wanted to give me a used car for Christmas so he didn’t have to make this boring drive to New Haven so often. But, my mother had nixed that idea. She thought I’d become a wild child if I had my own car.

I could have asked for a car.

Instead, I had asked for footsie pajamas.

Oh, well.

Christmas morning came. I’m sure I received many nice things that I don’t remember. I do remember a big thick handmade quilt. My mother knew a lot of crafty women.

I also remember that Santa gave me footsie pajamas to keep me warm in the dorm.

Six pairs.

My mother had her own way about her. She was a child of The Great Depression. When you find a great sale on something? You don’t buy one. You buy six in different colors.

So, I went back to school in January. I had lost weight walking everywhere for a month at home. I often thought about the used car I should have asked for. My clothing was now fitting again. I swore off butterscotch pudding forever. I reintroduced myself to salad.

I was still the proud owner of six pairs of footsie pajamas.

What’s a girl to do? I had a dorm room party. I invited five friends. They all put on my new pajamas. We took photos. We ordered pizza. The delivery boy was told to bring us a big salad also. I still remember his face when he saw six beautiful 18 year old girls……..prancing around a dorm room……..in footsie pajamas.

I think we remembered to tip him.

We dialed the phone. I paid long distance fees so we could yell “Thank you for the footsie pajamas!” at my mother.

“Thank Santa!” Ma replied.

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