The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

 I love Christmas.

I love the lights in the darkness (even if we never have outside lights at our house--I'm grateful for neighbors who do!)--and the reminder of another Light in the darkness.

I love the holiday cooking and food. And the chance to spend more time with my family. And games. And laughing. And movies. And reading.

I love buying presents. I usually start planning my Christmas list sometime in October--and I love that tiny rush of finding the perfect gift for the perfect person. (My daughter makes this easy; my oldest son, not so much).

I love the idea that we all need to be a little kinder, a little more outward focused. I know I should do this year round, but the reminders come more often at Christmas time.

And I love the Nativity story. It's always meant more to my since my oldest was born on Christmas Eve--and I spent the whole month of December crying anytime someone mentioned Mary. (Mostly, I couldn't imagine how she could ride a donkey when she was that far pregnant). Every year, I remember that sort of miraculous stillness after my son was born and think of that other birth that changed the world.

Even so, this year, I couldn't help feeling a little melancholy on Christmas Eve, after all the presents were laid out: so much work and energy and thought and preparation and then the present rush is over in a matter of minutes. It's a good thing there are lots of other things to love about Christmas.


This year our week started with celebrations of our birthday boy. Andrew requested a specific menu for his birthday, so we had crepes for breakfast, then I took him to Applebees for lunch where he had two mini-cheeseburgers, fries, and a Sunday. And then pork chops, salad, potatoes, and lemon cake for dessert. Bubby and Poppy came over for dinner on Christmas Eve--and then again for breakfast Christmas morning.

We also have the obligatory Christmas pictures:

 Andrew wanted to make his own present for Evelyn. His dad took him shopping for supplies, and he came up with the idea of making her a ballerina. Of course, neither he nor his dad knew how to *execute* his great idea, so I would up designing the doll (and cutting her out) while Andrew assembled her and drew the face. 

New pjs for the kids on Christmas Eve, of course.

And this is pretty much how all of Oliver's pictures go these days: he'd rather be doing something else. (There's also a reason why we didn't put presents out before Christmas Eve).

 Christmas morning came too soon and too early, though the kids did at least wait in bed until 6 a.m. (I don't remember what we threatened them with if they came out early, but there were threats involved).

Poppy reading Frozen to the kids while we put the finishing touches on breakfast. Breakfast was a sausage and potato fritatta and lemon-iced scones. Not very traditional, but it tasted good! After breakfast, Bubby and Poppy stayed to watch the kids unwrap presents--then they were off to the condo and we headed north to see my parents.

Our visit with my family involved lots of cousins and lots of outdoor time. Thursday afternoon we joined Justin and his family (and most of Lia's extended family) at a skating rink in Midway. It was a little chilly, but the exercise helped keep us warm. This was only the second time Andrew had been skating--and a first for Evelyn (Oliver stayed home with Grandma). Andrew was a maniac on skates: he raced around the rink, precariously balanced the whole time. He also fell a lot (courtesy of the speed and the precarious balance). Evelyn clung to the railing for the first two laps, and then finally realized a) she wouldn't fall over if she let go of the railing for a while and b) even if she did fall, it wasn't too bad. So she and her cousin Eli palled around (they were going about the same creeping speed) and she got mad at Dan and I if we dared help her or offer her support.

Also this: does it make me a bad person that I took pride in skating better than my husband *and* my brother? I'm so seldom decent at anything athletic that it's always a pleasant surprise to remember that I do know how to skate--courtesy of a childhood in Montana and a neighbor who always built a skating rink in his backyard. (Justin, being five years younger than I, missed a lot of that experience).

On Friday, all four children, spouses, and all twelve grandchildren assembled at my parents house. It was about as chaotic as it sounds. The kids splinter into unholy alliances (Andrew pals around with the three oldest grandchildren, and Evelyn plays with the middle girls). My dad warns them to stay out of his stuff, and they run around while the parents chat.

After presents and pizza and more new pajamas for the kids, we all went to my sister's house for sledding. They have an awesome backyard: a small hill that leads into a long, gently sloping pasture that makes for perfectly paced sled rides.

Here's Dan with Oliver draped over his shoulder. Oliver cried the first time he went down (I think because he got snow in his face). But after that first time, he liked it so much that he seemed to think the green innertube was his--and he cried if anyone tried to separate him from it.

Evelyn and Enoch rode down together a bunch of times (except for the one time that the sled and Enoch accidentally went down with out her). Sometimes Enoch was sitting *on* Evelyn instead of the sled, but they both seemed to think it was hilarious.

Evelyn modelling the princess dress Grandma made for her.

Saturday we hung out with Jared and Mitcee and their kids (they'd spent the night at my parents house) before heading home earlier today. For a short trip, we managed to pack a lot in.

Mostly, though, it makes me no end of happy to see my children becoming best friends with their cousins. I wish I could have had that growing up--Dan did, and seeing him with his cousins today makes me want that all the more for my own kids.