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I will not repeat the chaos of Christmas a few years ago. On the "night before the night before the night before Christmas" things were out of control. Shopping was almost done (but not quite), groceries were almost bought (but not quite), and it all came crashing down on me! I looked in the mirror and saw the lines under my eyes, the wrinkles around my mouth and a bunch of gray hairs standing straight up at the top of my head like a silver crown gone awry.

I dashed to the drugstore and bought what was described as "Lively Brown." My brown could use a little "lively." Staring at me from another shelf was something called "frosted peach," touting "vitamin-E and wrinkle decrease." I dropped it in the shopping cart and headed home.

I had just enough time before everyone arrived for the traditional "night before the night before the night before" dinner to color my hair. "No Peek" stew was in the oven. Dinner was under control.

Taking longer than I should have to beautify myself, I noticed that the "lively brown" and "frosted peach" had worked overtime. It was hard to tell what smelled worse - the "No Peek Stew" (that smelled like I'd better peek) or the mixture of "lively brown" and "frosted peach." I turned the oven off, rinsed my hair like there was no tomorrow and washed the "decrease" off my face. I pointed the dryer at my mangled hair. Talk about lively brown! Well, who cares? No one ever notices me anyhow!

When the doorbell rang, I opened the door and my son said, "Mom! What in the world happened to your hair?" Here I am, surrounded by beautiful Christmas decorations and the tree absolutely loaded with lights and ornaments and he asks about my hair!

"Nothing happened to my hair. Do you like the tree?"

He rolled his eyes at his wife and said, "And what is that smell? I know it's not apple crisp. It smells like peaches - or something." I claimed innocence about the smell and then pouted for sympathy. "No one ever notices me," I whined, "and now that something is wrong, all you can do is criticize me."

My oldest granddaughter hugged me and said, "Oh, Grammy, I like your hair and once you wash it, some of that color will come out. And if you want, I could put some streaks in it. It won't take long." Eyes bright with excitement, she added "We could do it after dinner!" She looked at her cousin and said, "I can streak yours, too!"

I felt better already until my son said, "If you didn't make apple crisp, life is not worth living. And trust me; you don't want her to put streaks in your hair. She streaked her sister's three weeks ago and they haven't spoken since." I glanced at my granddaughter and she did resemble a skunk but I just smiled and told her I thought she looked cute. The girls stomped off to look under the tree. The 5-year-old boys hung onto me like they thought maybe I was going to die on the spot.

That was the Christmas that I was reminded again to enjoy the wonders of the season. I will always try to be a good mom and grandma and make apple crisp. It doesn't really matter what color my hair is, and I know that.

What really matters is that the celebrations with family and friends include the gifts of loving hugs and mutual delight in the season.

- By Caroline Overlund-Reid

Caroline Overlund-Reid, a writer in Bakersfield, Calif., retired twice - once from an executive administrative position for a major oil company and then from a part-time position in her daughter's consulting business. She now spends her time writing, submitting queries and reading rejection letters. She has been published twice in Chicken Soup for the Soul and wrote a humor column for a now-defunct local newspaper called The Northwest Voice. She freely shares her opinion in many published letters to the editor in the Bakersfield Californian.