Our Christmas was pretty peaceful this year, which is the usual for us. On Christmas Eve we ferry out to Peaks Island to Scott's parents' house, which is always fun. Each year someone takes their turn writing a version of "Twas the Night Before Christmas" but with each of the family members names included. It's a very cool tradition. And this year we were of course quite focused on our new nieces. The evening ended with everyone rushing to catch the last boat, to the tune of what can only be described as "Extreme Caroling"~ I really can't say more than that. : )
On Christmas morning we headed over to my parents for some gift openin' and brunch. Then it was home for a nap, before returning to my parents for Chinese takeout and a raunchy movie. Although this year I must say the raunchy movie was much less raunchy than usual (usually we go with something Apatow-esque), and we watched Burn After Reading. Scott and my mom and I had all already seen it, so we were mostly anticipating my dad's reaction to discovering what George Clooney's character was building in the basement...
I have mixed feelings about the whole Christmas thing. I'm don't consider myself a Christian, so that piece of it isn't there for me. Our version of decorating for the holidays has mostly been arranging Christmas cards on the mantle and Clementines on the kitchen counter. Some years I get totally into the gift giving thing, and others years I feel like it's all a superficial clusterfuck. After my brother and other loved ones died, I had a really hard time wanting to celebrate at all. But this year I was mostly thinking about how different next year will be, with a little dude crawling around getting into everything (or as one friend so kindly put it-- he'll be walking around, because of course he'll be quite advanced for his age).
When I was a kid, each year my grandma Jeanne would proclaim that it was the "last of the big Christmases." I'm not sure if it was about all the money that gifts cost, or if she, like me, had some ambivalence about the holiday (she was also brought up Jewish, which might be part of it too), but each year she'd make sure to let everyone know that this was it. And yet, the next year, there we all were again, opening Skeletor's castle or heaps of books. So I declare this year the "last of the little Christmases." Not that I plan to spoil our child too much, or hit the eggnog, or start wearing sweaters with prancing reindeer because that would be very, very scary. But there could be a Christmas tree involved next year, and maybe even some lights, too.
Plus, does it mean you're really, totally, completely a grown up when you ask for a Crock Pot for Christmas? And receive one? I fear it does...
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