’Twas the night before Christmas, and all in the house wore Christmas pajamas, except for my spouse.
And that is because this world really only has two types of people: those who decorate every corner of their home for the holidays, take over the entire dining room for their whimsical Christmas village diorama that plays nonstop Christmas carols, and only stop hanging outdoor lights when NASA complains that their house is interfering with the space program … and those who claim that cranberry scented candles “give them a headache,” constantly warn about the inherent fire hazards lurking inside of every lighted decoration, and complain that the Christmas village is interfering with “meal time.” As if.
And those two people? They always marry each other.
My husband, Jeff, is not what you would call a “joiner.” He doesn’t have a single social media account — no YouTube, no Instagram, no TikTok. He did, very briefly, create a Facebook profile, but since he never used it, I kept getting messages from Facebook reading, “Help Jeff find friends.” Which was just … well … sad.
Jeff doesn’t post, tweet, like, or follow, and he still thinks hashtags should be read as pound signs. Which is why the whole “matching family Christmas pajamas” craze means nothing to him. To Jeff, “poundChristmas Jammies” is not only confusing, it’s vaguely violent.
So perhaps he can be forgiven for acting as if I had just suggested we immerse ourselves in cranberry essential oils, turn the backyard into a “Charlie Brown Christmas” theme park, and cavalierly put lighted candles next to our dry, natural Christmas tree when all I did was present him with Christmas pajamas to be worn for a family Instagram holiday photo. #absolutelynot
It’s not like I invented the idea. Matching Christmas PJs were all the craze in the 1950s when catalogs (remember those?) contained ads sporting freakishly good-looking families, in which the mother was virtually indistinguishable from the teenaged daughter, wearing identical holiday onesies, complete with coordinated hats and shoes. This advertising campaign continued, with varying success, for the next 60 years.
Then, in 2013, the Holderness family posted a YouTube video — originally made for just their family and friends — called “XMAS Jammies” in which they summed up the events of their year in a musical parody of Will Smith’s “Miami.” It immediately went viral, and faster than you can say, “Please just put on the pajamas and smile,” posting pictures of your family wearing matching Christmas PJs became the rage.
Celebrities joined the craze, and adorable photos of couples like Reese Witherspoon and Jim Toth, Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly, Jennifer Lopez and Arron Rodriguez, and Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth — each pair wearing the same fleecy sleepwear as their significant other — were plastered all over the internet, making fans swoon from the incredible cuteness of it all. And, yes, while it is true that not a single one of the aforementioned couples are still together, I’m not sure we can blame the breakups on Christmas PJs. #orcanwe
Jeff wasn’t taking any chances, and despite all of my compelling arguments that matching PJs are fun, wholesome, and create magical memories to be treasured for years to come, he refused to don the jammies.
I think he wanted to be wearing something more appropriate when Marley and the ghosts of Christmas past, present, and future came a-calling later that night.
Even the youngsters, believe it or not, were not as excited as I thought they might be when told they could open one Christmas present early, and, after a whirlwind of torn ribbons and ripped wrapping paper, discovered … pajamas. They acted like I had filled their stockings with socks (#ironic) and had given them all school supplies as Christmas gifts. #stodgydisappointment
The whole family resolutely stood in solidarity against the enchantment of overpriced, matching polyester sleepwear.
With my dreams of an adorably staged Instagram Christmas photo quickly evaporating, I put on my holiday onesie — which, if you are the only one in the room wearing bright red, flannel, fuzzy pajamas covered in Santa faces, is just … well … sad. #helpVonafindfriends
However, as I plopped down in front of the TV, miserable and hot since fleece just does not breathe, watching Jimmy Stewart as George Bailey about to jump into the river, all the while muttering to myself about how not wonderful life was, a Christmas miracle occurred.
Having been bribed by Jeff with actual gifts, the kids trooped back in, looking adorable and slightly overheated in matching bright red, flannel, fuzzy Christmas onesies.
And Jeff? He disappeared into the bedroom. #whattheheck
But …
Out from the room, there arouse such a clatter,
I rushed to the door to see what was the matter.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
but Christmas pajamas on the one I hold dear.
More rapid than eagles, his curses they came,
As he listed his vexes and called them by name,
“There’s planning and shopping and holiday drama,
then building that darn Santa-town diorama!
But by far the worst of these seasonal traumas?
I am now standing here in these Christmas pajamas!”
Then I heard him exclaim, ere he strode out of sight,
“I’ll wear them right now, but just for tonight.”
#heisakeeper
Merry Christmas! God bless us, everyone!