I have already discussed Christmas Eve, which was half good and half bad, at least in terms of child wrangling. The only thing I didn’t tell you was that we went took a risk and went to the 5:30 pm pageant Mass, and it was well worth it, since Nora obligingly slept in her carseat right up until the sign of peace, which was when I would have had to wake her up anyway, since we can’t very well leave her in the pew while we go up to receive communion. (Communion comes shortly after the sign of peace, in case you non-Catholics are confused.) Jack was reasonably well-behaved even though Andrew had to stand in the back with him for a large chunk of the Mass. Apparently there was a threat or two of a time-out, but they were in the back so as far as I was concerned, there were no problems at all. What? I had to stay with the baby!
But by the time both children were in bed, our standards for what we wanted to accomplish that night were vastly lowered. Ribbons and bows on the presents, for example, suddenly seemed very unimportant. And figuring out a way to hang a tarp across the living room door so that Jack didn’t see the tree without us? Not going to happen. And so we collapsed into bed around 10:00 or so and hoped for the best.
And the best is what we got.
First of all, Nora woke only once or so and was at this point still allowing me to put her back in her bed. (Oh, how I long for the days.) Then Jack’s daily morning hike to our bed didn’t happen until 6:00 instead of the usual 5:30. When he did finally climb into bed with us, he told me he loved me and he loved Andrew and he petted me and told me I was “snuggable.” Sunggable! For real! Strange how something that, were it to happen in a movie would make my eyes roll and roll, can be oh! So nice to hear. I believe I actually said, “Well, this is pretty delightful.” And all parties agreed.
So then I got up to see if Santa had come and possibly turn on the tree lights and get the camera ready.
Which I did.
The morning continued to be delightful. Presents were opened and played with.
Boxes were chewed.
“Happy Birthday” was sung and single-layer coconut cake was consumed. Andrew and I congratulated each other on going to mass on Christmas Eve, thus ensuring a lazy, unrushed morning. We headed to Andrew’s parents’ house around noon, where we spent an equally delightful afternoon.
All in all, it was a fantastic day. We lived off of it for the next week, a week that was pretty awful what with the housebound sick people and the tantrums and the teeth starting to torture the baby, teeth which are now sharp little daggers that CONTINUE to torture the baby. Whose plan was teething, anyway? BAD PLANNING.
But I digress. In short, this Christmas, the first Christmas Jack really had any idea what was happening, was our best Christmas yet.
Bring it on, 2010.