She was adorably super excited about it all, from the cheap wooden block toy from the Target dollar section to books to the wrapping paper itself (I have a feeling I’ll miss this age on future Christmases).
We vegged our for an hour or so before it was time to start making my Mac and cheese and getting the kiddos ready for our family party. I vowed I was not going to clean up a single toy or put away laundry or generally be my anal, OCD mom self all day, and even though it nearly killed me (there is probably medicine for this) I managed to follow through and leave the house in chaos.
Ryland and Bobby put on their holiday finest.
I did the parent thing where you talk to people with about 50% of your brain concentrating on what you’re saying while the other 50% tracks your toddler as she careens around the room (ready at a moments notice to jump in and prevent property damage or bodily injury).
Ryland had a total blast and partied hard.
Bobby had many willing “babysitters” including my sweet grandma.
Being a parent at Christmas makes the day both so much more wonderful and so much harder. It’s all about creating memories for someone else instead of yourself. And while that can lead to stress and pressure to make things perfect (like worrying about silly things like finding the last set of matching Christmas pajamas in America, which obviously was a fail for me), you just have to remember what really matters, love and family and friends and hope and decency and all that good stuff that doesn’t go under a tree.
It’s a day late but as my friend George would say, “Merry Christmas movie house, Merry Christmas Emporium, Merry Christmas you wonderful old building and loan.”
Merry Christmas to you all 🙂