Christmas Meltdown
It's been three solid days of celebration. I think Christmas is worth it; my body, however, does not agree with me. Holy crap, when did I become 35?
On Christmas Eve, we spent the day getting things ready. As per usual, I went apeshit with the cookie baking, so I was still in super-hyperactive mode by the time I had to get over to church. I realized I had missed the entire day with frantic preparation, but somehow, this is how I do my personal celebrating. I love plying people with homemade creations and I love putting out a big tray of really nice cookies and bars at church. It's easy to take it for granted, but our people miss out on it so much.
The service was softly lit with candles and the music and readings all helped create the calm, reverent and expectant atmosphere that you want in a Christmas Eve service. I sang O Holy Night as a solo, but because Jacob was not settling, I had to hold him and nurse him while I sang. He farted the whole way through the song. Ahh, memories.
We started a bit of a tradition last year of going to look at The Bay windows and then over to Nathan Phillips Square to watch the skaters, then home with Chinese food and It's A Wonderful Life. I didn't make it through the movie last year (I always fall asleep when I sit down on a couch in front of the tube), so this year I was determined to stay awake to the end. The end came at about 1-bloody-a.m.! And then we had to finish up the presents and put them out! We were all so tired we forgot to put out cookies and milk for Santa, and we forgot to leave the tree on. Somehow, waking up Christmas morning to a darkened living room was the most depressing thing for me.
On Christmas morning, we tried to take our time opening up the presents and enjoying it together... but Josh was like a ADHD monkey on a sugar bender. He tore through everything and then asked where the rest of it was. I hate that. I hate that my kid has come to expect an avalanche of gifts at his birthday and Christmas. I know people enjoy giving him things, especially grandparents, but it's too much. It makes me lose my mind. The task before us today is to try and find a way to sort the toys - take the old ones out, put the new ones in - so that we have space to live. The saddest part is that Josh wont' even play with half of these things. There's too much. They will sit on the shelves until next year when we swap them out for the newer stuff.
We spent Christmas afternoon with my close family friends - that was my favourite part. I love being with them, especially at Christmas. They're like coming home to something safe and reassuring. And they make me laugh like no one else. We went to Damien's dad's for supper, which is always an interesting dynamic, because his parents are divorced and remarried, and Damien's stepmom always has her family there too. I never know how to interact with them because it feels like we're too far stretched out to create the semblance of a family gathering. So his stepmom sits with her relatives and talks to them all night, and I sit with Damien and his dad and their relatives and talk with them all night. It's like two separate family gatherings in one house at the same time. But they're lovely people, and very friendly. Just so many of them and I can never remember their names.
Then we did Christmas again on Boxing Day with Damien's mom's family. I always have a great time with them. They're a fantastic bunch, and they're so tight with each other. Damien's cousin just had a baby earlier this year too, so we have a lot of common ground between us. Damien's mom and stepdad completely overdid it with presents though. SO MANY GIFTS. I saw their tree and said, "Oh! Haven't you guys opened your presents yet?" She responded with: "those are all for you guys". It took six trips to bring everything in from the car. We've spent this morning trying to sort things, and we ended up at Canadian Tire for bins to store everything in. We're a culture that drowns in stuff.
It's deeply contrasted for me against a story told by one of the daughters from the family I used to babysit for (aforementioned close friends). She had just come back from a trip to Romania with her church, where they went to bring presents and visit with children in several orphanages there. They packed up gift bags with socks, underwear, a long t-shirt, soap, toothbrushes and oranges and took them in. She said one little boy was dancing around and cheering because of the black socks he'd received. I sat and stared at her while my eyes filled up with tears. Here's my son at home who wouldn't even notice if he received socks, who only wants to know what else people got him, who has no concept of need... and I am guilty of perpetuating it. I sell out and fall victim to the trap of "the more presents on Christmas morning, the better, the more it means I love him". However, I tried to give some significant people on our list a donated gift of pre- and post-natal care for women in developing countries, especially in light of what it meant to have skilled care for us with Jacob... but I saw the disappointment on their faces because it wasn't a thing to have in their hands. It was just a card that said thank you for helping keep some other faceless woman and her baby alive... and perhaps that's far closer to the point of Christmas than any of the Transformers or scarves or dishes or scented fancy soaps that we got, but we don't need or even want, but how would any of us know? We can't see it because we're buried under stuff. God forgive us.
On Christmas Eve, we spent the day getting things ready. As per usual, I went apeshit with the cookie baking, so I was still in super-hyperactive mode by the time I had to get over to church. I realized I had missed the entire day with frantic preparation, but somehow, this is how I do my personal celebrating. I love plying people with homemade creations and I love putting out a big tray of really nice cookies and bars at church. It's easy to take it for granted, but our people miss out on it so much.
The service was softly lit with candles and the music and readings all helped create the calm, reverent and expectant atmosphere that you want in a Christmas Eve service. I sang O Holy Night as a solo, but because Jacob was not settling, I had to hold him and nurse him while I sang. He farted the whole way through the song. Ahh, memories.
We started a bit of a tradition last year of going to look at The Bay windows and then over to Nathan Phillips Square to watch the skaters, then home with Chinese food and It's A Wonderful Life. I didn't make it through the movie last year (I always fall asleep when I sit down on a couch in front of the tube), so this year I was determined to stay awake to the end. The end came at about 1-bloody-a.m.! And then we had to finish up the presents and put them out! We were all so tired we forgot to put out cookies and milk for Santa, and we forgot to leave the tree on. Somehow, waking up Christmas morning to a darkened living room was the most depressing thing for me.
On Christmas morning, we tried to take our time opening up the presents and enjoying it together... but Josh was like a ADHD monkey on a sugar bender. He tore through everything and then asked where the rest of it was. I hate that. I hate that my kid has come to expect an avalanche of gifts at his birthday and Christmas. I know people enjoy giving him things, especially grandparents, but it's too much. It makes me lose my mind. The task before us today is to try and find a way to sort the toys - take the old ones out, put the new ones in - so that we have space to live. The saddest part is that Josh wont' even play with half of these things. There's too much. They will sit on the shelves until next year when we swap them out for the newer stuff.
We spent Christmas afternoon with my close family friends - that was my favourite part. I love being with them, especially at Christmas. They're like coming home to something safe and reassuring. And they make me laugh like no one else. We went to Damien's dad's for supper, which is always an interesting dynamic, because his parents are divorced and remarried, and Damien's stepmom always has her family there too. I never know how to interact with them because it feels like we're too far stretched out to create the semblance of a family gathering. So his stepmom sits with her relatives and talks to them all night, and I sit with Damien and his dad and their relatives and talk with them all night. It's like two separate family gatherings in one house at the same time. But they're lovely people, and very friendly. Just so many of them and I can never remember their names.
Then we did Christmas again on Boxing Day with Damien's mom's family. I always have a great time with them. They're a fantastic bunch, and they're so tight with each other. Damien's cousin just had a baby earlier this year too, so we have a lot of common ground between us. Damien's mom and stepdad completely overdid it with presents though. SO MANY GIFTS. I saw their tree and said, "Oh! Haven't you guys opened your presents yet?" She responded with: "those are all for you guys". It took six trips to bring everything in from the car. We've spent this morning trying to sort things, and we ended up at Canadian Tire for bins to store everything in. We're a culture that drowns in stuff.
It's deeply contrasted for me against a story told by one of the daughters from the family I used to babysit for (aforementioned close friends). She had just come back from a trip to Romania with her church, where they went to bring presents and visit with children in several orphanages there. They packed up gift bags with socks, underwear, a long t-shirt, soap, toothbrushes and oranges and took them in. She said one little boy was dancing around and cheering because of the black socks he'd received. I sat and stared at her while my eyes filled up with tears. Here's my son at home who wouldn't even notice if he received socks, who only wants to know what else people got him, who has no concept of need... and I am guilty of perpetuating it. I sell out and fall victim to the trap of "the more presents on Christmas morning, the better, the more it means I love him". However, I tried to give some significant people on our list a donated gift of pre- and post-natal care for women in developing countries, especially in light of what it meant to have skilled care for us with Jacob... but I saw the disappointment on their faces because it wasn't a thing to have in their hands. It was just a card that said thank you for helping keep some other faceless woman and her baby alive... and perhaps that's far closer to the point of Christmas than any of the Transformers or scarves or dishes or scented fancy soaps that we got, but we don't need or even want, but how would any of us know? We can't see it because we're buried under stuff. God forgive us.