THE NARRATIVE ARC

‘Step Into My Office’ and Other Untraditional Family Traditions

The office is the bathroom

“We’ve never really been ones for tradition,” my family says.

Hold up.

Yes, we have. We may not have noticed they were traditions, but they certainly exist.

There are the typical holiday traditions of course: There’s an ornament from Germany of a little lad climbing a string ladder up to his love so he can kiss her in the window — I always hang it on the tree. My mom always hangs her Lenox anniversary one right in the top center.

But then there are the more unofficial traditions.

“Step into my office,” my grandma says to her six kids, ushering them into the bathroom with her. She pops a squat on the pot and they have a family meeting.

“Step into my office,” my mom says to me and my sisters. We discuss anything from school projects to what we want for lunch tomorrow. Flush. Faucet. Hands washed, meeting over.

“Step into my office,” I say to my boyfriend. He looks aghast. The bathroom door is wide open and I’m talking at full volume, beckoning him to continue our conversation regardless of the location. (He has since begrudgingly come around.)

That’s not the only one, but it’s the one that got me thinking about others.

Whenever the credits roll on a movie at home on VHS or DVD, one must always get up and dance their hearts out to the credits music. Especially if you’re watching it with your sisters.

We always make sure, no matter the circumstances, that we say “I love you” before we part ways. Life is short and unpredictable — something we all learned at an early age. You never know when you’ll next see someone — or if, and no argument is worth not saying it.

My sister must always have a set of candles for her to blow out on the birthday cake. Not her birthday cake, but the birthday cake. Any birthday cake. Every day is a celebration of her (in her eyes).

My mother would forsake me if I shared the *secret* ingredient in our family’s recipe for chocolate chip cookies. I can assure you, however, that no batch is made without it. And it’s not “love,” although I’m sure that plays a part. I can tell you this: If you want your cookies to stay fresh longer, put pieces of bread in the tin with the cookies. The cookies will absorb the moisture and stay soft and gooey. (Don’t eat the bread though.)

“Putzing” is a perfectly acceptable form of a meal. To graze the pantry and fridge, grabbing small bites of whatever sounds appealing until your tummy is satisfied. Best to do in your pajamas.

Thunderstorms are a gift. One must always count down the seconds between the lightning and thunder, guessing how far away it is. It’s a competition though. Who can guess the right amount of seconds? “One… two… three… four… and here… we… GO!” The thunder didn’t go off yet? No worries, start over quickly. “One… two… two and a half… three… *thunder clap* GO! See, I won!” (That’s not a win, but you catch my drift.)

Every time, and I mean every single time, my dad would pass wind, immediately: “Whoa, is there a duck under the table?” he asked. As I’ve grown older, I’m not even sure it makes sense, but damn if the tradition doesn’t live on.

Christmas lights are better viewed from the open air of the bed of the pickup truck as we roam the neighborhood.

“Sweet dreams, sleep tight, I love you, good night.” My grandma said it to my mom. My mom said it to me. I’ll say it to my daughter someday.

These are the traditions that I’ll remember. These are the traditions that mean something to me.

Sure, hanging the ornaments and making a rainbow construction paper chain for the tree does hold precious memories, but they only come around once a year. These other “traditions” happen on a daily basis. They sit at the forefront of my memory.

These are what live on — when those we love are no longer by our side. Little pieces of them that carry forward.

I think my dad would love to know that his ridiculous nature carries on.

And I think my grandmother would be glad to know that her “office” is still, and always will be, the family office.

What are some of your family’s untraditional traditions?

For more of my dad’s ridiculous nature:

Thank you for reading! Escapism is everything. I welcome all fangirling, impassioned rants, and fantastical explorations — real or not.