Ten years ago, I became Tía Kiki and wrote a letter to my sobri Victoria on this blog. This year she wrote one to me. It is the nicest letter I’ve ever gotten, and it reminds me of the coolest part of being a tía: first, you love the babies, and then, they love you back. Logically, I understand that this pattern is key to human survival, but to experience it first-hand is incredible. I feel lucky beyond words.
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I spent Christmas in a gingerbread house. For real. Devin’s parents’ house is a little wooden cabin in the middle of the snowy woods, and as soon as you walk in, you are absolutely surrounded by sugar. Would you like a Christmas cookie with sprinkles? Maybe chocolate chip is more your style. Or perhaps you prefer cookies dipped in chocolate. No matter, they have it all. Candy bars and candy canes galore. If you like cold sweets, there’s ice cream. And if you like warm sweets, there are cinnamon buns, pancakes, and blueberry muffins covered in sugar crystals. Maybe you’d rather have sugar in liquid form. For that there are dozens of jars of maple syrup (from the trees outside) and a jar of honey (from the neighbor’s bees). It’s like being a kid in a candy store, only all the candy is free.
This is my first Christmas away from my family, and I joke with Devin that it’s my first White Christmas because it’s the first* Christmas I spend in the States, with White Americans. Of course, “White American” is an ethnicity with many subcultures, just like “Mexican” is. Devin comes from a community that grows food, buys gifts at L.L. Bean, and has thoughtful discussions about politics and climate change. They also go out of their way to make me feel welcome. On Christmas Eve, the family friends who invited us over for dinner made lots of mini food because they heard I liked little things (seriously)! On Christmas morning we ate beans for breakfast (because Devin told his parents that beans are my favorite food). And Devin’s family has included me in their own traditions. We cut down a Christmas tree the day after I got here, and there’s a fire burning all day long. It’s been magical to sit by its glow and listen to carols. Once I was singing, “Frosted wiiiindow panes, candles gleaming inside, painted candy canes on the treeeeeeeee” and realized we were surrounded by all those things! Well, okay, replace “candles gleaming” with “LED’s glowing” (they are environmentalists, after all).
The town closest to this little farm reminds me of Casas Grandes, the town closest to my aunt Menry’s house, where my family usually spends Christmas, only all the restaurants here are sponsored by Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer instead of Coca-Cola. (You could argue that Mexico sponsors Coca-Cola and not the other way around because Mexico drinks more soda per capita than any other country.)
Of course, nothing makes up for missing your family, especially when you’ve never had to be apart this time of year before. My cousin Vanessa knows this firsthand, and she sent me the best box ever to open on Christmas. It was called the “First Christmas Away From Your Family Survival Kit” and contained a funny book, the best Mexican candy (including mazapanes for those who prefer sweet to spicy) and chocolate Abuelita. She also sent me some earrings because she is the greatest.
By far the biggest difference between U.S. Christmas and Mexican Christmas is bedtime. When Devin’s parents were going to sleep on Christmas Eve, my family in Chihuahua was just sitting down to dinner. Devin and I managed to stay up to Skype with them, which was awesome. My niece Victoria rushed to the screen and said, “¡Estoy comiendo zanahorias como tú!” (I’m eating carrots like you!). I always worry that she’ll forget about me because I don’t get to see her as much as I wish, so it was really special to know that she thinks about her weird vegetarian aunt.
Otherwise, Christmas here is pretty similar to Christmas there. A big part of that is due to globalization and how effectively U.S. corporations export American cultural traditions, but another big reason is that I’ve always been surrounded by a loving family at Christmastime, and this year was no different.
*It’s not my first Christmas in the U.S.A. if you count the very first Christmas of my life, which was spent in the States, but I don’t because I was nine months old and had to fact-check where I spent it before writing this.
Hoy les presento un vídeo de mi sobrina Victoria. Dura quince segundos, pero como a mi siempre me da flojera ver vídeos, se los explico para que ustedes decidan si lo quieren ver o no. Tomé el vídeo en diciembre cuando estábamos juntas muchas de las mujeres de la familia. En el vídeo, Victoria trae un llavero de la Torre Eiffel, y Carol le pregunta,’ ¿Dónde está Paris?’ esperando que la niña apunte al llavero. Pero en vez de enseñarnos la Torre Eiffel, mi sobrina lista nos enseña a hablar francés! Pronuncia ‘Paris’ con un acento perfecto (‘Paguí’). Llevo más de un mes viendo este vídeo todos los días. Me encanta darme cuenta que aun siendo tan pequeña, Victoria entiende tanto. No cabe duda que lo que tiene de petite, lo tiene de culta e inteligente.
Here’s a cute video of my niece Victoria. It’s only fifteen seconds long, but since I hate watching videos, I’ll re-cap it for you. I filmed it in December when a bunch of the wimyn in the family were together, fawning over Veev. In the video, Victoria is holding a keychain in the shape of the Eiffel Tower. Carol asks, ‘Where’s Paris?’ in hopes that the baby will point at the keychain. But instead of showing us the Eiffel Tower, my smart niece gives us a lesson in pronunciation. She says ‘Paris’ in perfect French! I’ve been watching this video every day for over a month. I am perpetually astounded to see that even though Victoria’s a baby, she understands so much. I can’t wait to see what else she’ll teach us.
I got the coolest present ever for Christmas. Her name is Victoria Elena. She is my niece. Sometimes we call her ‘Veev’ for short.
Having a new niece, hanging out with her, and then having to leave her got me thinking about all this aunt business. What does it mean to be an aunt? What kind of aunt am I? I asked Veev, but she just made gurgly noises. So then, I thought I’d consult the internet and share my findings (I actually googled ‘How to be a good aunt’), but that seemed impersonal. After all, I’m not just anybody’s aunt. I’m Victoria’s aunt. Long story short, I decided to write her a letter, and the letter turned out to be a great introduction to my family and life with Victoria, so I decided to share it here (because I know you must be super curious).
Continue reading “‘Aunt’ means never having to change a diaper.”
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