For the Love of Matching PJs

Every family has their quirky Christmas traditions. My family has too many traditions to list here. But one in particular has stood the test of time…matching Christmas PJs. Knowing this tradition was merely a prompt for my mother to take photos, we all (mostly) complied with the requisite holiday cheer.

As kids, we knew we’d always have at least one present to open on Christmas Eve, but the catch was that we had to open all at the same time and collectively enjoy the surprise of what our new PJs looked like (old-fashioned or outlandish, striped or flowered, socks or sans socks.) As teenagers, we complained about this tradition, even though we secretly loved it. As adults, we perpetuate the tradition because we long to be a child again.

Why are these traditions so important? Aside from photos to cherish later in life, traditions give us consistency in this world of chaos. Traditions help us feel content, even if only for a while, that some things can endure the treachery of time. Traditions are silly moments to help us laugh at ourselves and each other and feel connected over generations.

Traditions can also be what we yearn for the most when things get topsy-turvy. During the pandemic, we lost out on traditions that required family gatherings. Showing off our new PJ digs via Zoom loses its zing somehow.

Sometimes we purposely want to change up tradition, like the year my father passed away. My mother couldn’t bear the idea of a regular Christmas, so we packed our bags and went skiing, even though we hadn’t a clue what was involved. We laughed and sang and tried to ski…the moments were comforting and distracting from our new reality. Still, my mother carried on at least one tradition (singing her annual “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” serenade.)

There is something uplifting about ending the year by touching back to gestures of consistency—hanging an ornament that prompts a memory or mixing that favorite holiday cocktail in an attempt to match my father-in-law’s recipe or watching “Love Actually” and laughing as if hearing the lines for the first time. These traditions are muscle memory demonstrating how little things can reflect what’s important, a silly action that accumulates meaning over time with enough power to set the world back on its axis.

My brother bakes cinnamon rolls each Christmas morning because the scent takes him back to his childhood. Cruising neighborhoods to find the house with the best lights takes me back to my mother’s crazy, holiday adventures. But nothing reminds me that I am part of a quirky family that loves and laughs (and sleeps) deeply like a pair of matching PJs.

What is your most cherished and quirky family tradition?