Hodie Christus Natus Est – The Reluctant Grownup

It’s been a lovely Christmas season – I just did the camera photo dump, and so I’m going to put up the best pictures from our lovely December. Ergo, this post will be a longish, but I’m hoping a fun journey through the holiday period.

Earlier in the month, we and some friends took the boys to the nearby botanical gardens which were all decorated with lights. Given the darkness and my amateurish camera skillz, I only caught a couple of photos that are worth looking at:

The closest we will likely get to having snow at Christmastime down here

This was moments before Liam did a faceplant into the gravel and ended up with a fat lip

In any case, wrestling injuries aside, it was a lovely evening, made complete with popcorn, hot chocolate, and the obligatory whining trudge back out to the car long after bedtime. Oh, and the boys were a little whiny, too. RIMSHOT!

We purchased and decorated our Christmas tree the weekend after Thanksgiving. Like just about everyone I know, I thoroughly enjoyed bitching and moaning about how SHORT this year’s Christmas season was, given the lateness of Thanksgiving. I feel like we just put up this tree that we’re about to take down. My solace is in knowing that kids’ concepts of time are way out of whack, and so to them it probably felt like an eternity of Christmas cheer.

I caught a few photos of them decorating the tree. Given my current state of discomfort, I did not get up from my chair, but just handed them ornaments. I did not later go back and redistribute the ornaments to the top half of the tree, so it remained with 5-7 ornaments strung in a line on each of the lower branches. This is pregnant, stressless Christmassing, ya’ll, and I highly recommend it.

He totally loves this football jersey, which is too small. Christmas brought him a bigger Alabama jersey this year to replace it. I hope he doesn’t get any ideas about playing football, now . . . I like his head concussion free, and his neck unbroken.

Speaking of favorite shirts - this one says Robot Dog, and is Liam's favorite. Note that I did not dress the children in something cute for picture-taking purposes. Pregnant holidays and their accompanying low expectations are the best. — Speaking of favorite shirts – this one says Robot Dog, and is Liam’s favorite. Note that I did not dress the children in something cute for picture-taking purposes. Pregnant holidays and their accompanying low expectations are the best.

Virgil was very helpful, and by that I mean not helpful at all.

At some point mid-month we attended Liam’s little Christmas concert. He was a dove in the manger scene. He knew every word of the songs and sang with gusto – but refused to stand complacently by the little Christmas tree to get a good photo of him in his dove costume. So the only ones I have were taken from pretty far away, negotiating my camera through a forest of other cameras of parents who filmed every second of the concert that I could barely stand to watch once . . . let alone re-watch on video later. One family had three separate video cameras going. I myself took a few photos and some snippets of representative song, which I plan to share with relatives. I then spent the rest of the pageant grousing about all of the people standing up and craning their enormous cameras all up in the way so nobody could actually watch the darn thing live.

The next evening, we took the boys to our local state park, where they had a pajama night for all the local children. The kids sang Christmas carols with a little band. The mayor read them a book, and then Santa himself arrived and read them another book. Liam was a hideous, heinous hose beast at this event, and I very nearly sat on him to keep him still. He kept walking from kid to kid, through the crowd, whacking them in the face with his puppy. All these lovely children (including his brother) were raptly paying attention, and my little devil was walking around doing his utmost to distract them. Pregzilla nearly lost it, but he managed to stay alive through the course of the evening, despite my fuming and venomous looks in his direction. He made me sit on the floor at 34 weeks pregnant, trying to hold him still in my non-lap. I was furious.

At the end everyone had cookies and hot cocoa and lined up to sit on Santa’s lap. While we waited for our turn, Liam darted onto the porch, held his hand to his ear, and declared with delight that he could hear the reindeer pawing on the roof – which is where Santa had obviously parked his sleigh during his visit with us. Ok, kid, this is why I keep you around, despite your overwhelming THREE-ness. Nevertheless, you are the reason that the child-leash was invented. Too bad we don’t have one, I could have used it this particular evening. It – or a large dog kennel.

See the Azalea Trail Maids? Boy were they ever bored. — See the Azalea Trail Maids – girls who won a high school beauty pageant and therefore the honor of wearing enormous hoop skirts and wide ribboned hats? Part of their duties are to come to stuff like this throughout the city and just hang out. Boy were they ever bored.

A rare shot of Liam sitting still - or rather, being restrained by his father. — A rare shot of Liam sitting still – or rather, being restrained by his father.

The pictures we took on Santa’s lap were blurry and bad, so I won’t include them here. Notably, the children had shared with us what they’d wanted for Christmas for several weeks prior to this, and been fairly consistent in their requests: a blue robot that walks and talks that you use a remote control to maneuver (YES, THAT SPECIFIC), a stuffed penguin, and these light up Pillow Pets that the boys called “loveys.” Suddenly, on this evening about a week and a half before Christmas arrived, their story changed. On Santa’s lap, under the glare of the hot lodge lights and the pressure of their parents’ exhausted gaze, the boys fumbled a bit and then spat out brand new requests for a race car, a Spiderman computer, and a Spiderman watch. “What happened to the robot and the penguin?” their father and I asked desperately. “Oh, we changed our mind!” they said. “It’s ok, Santa will bring it!” Uh, er . . . next year they’re writing their lists down in early December and we’re mailing that thing to Santa, so we can get it locked in early enough for Santa’s elves to make the right thing. (As it was, Santa’s helper ran out to Target on Christmas Eve to see if he could find something along the lines of Spiderman watch and a racecar. It’s not vital that the children receive every gift they ask for, but it kind of preserves the magic of Santa when he brings you the one or two things you request of him specifically.)

A few days before Christmas Eve, their paternal grandparents came for a quick visit. The main purpose of the visit, besides spending some holiday time with the boys, was so that the Professor could get some help from his dad building the backyard swingset that we and both sets of grandparents contributed to. It rained during their whole trip, of course, but the men rolled up their sleeves and built the thing in pieces in the garage, and it actually worked out well since the boys didn’t see it til it was pretty much put in place and done. That was complete on Christmas Eve Eve, and though ideally we’d have loved to have hidden it from them til Santa Claus came, there was just no way to do it. So they got an early present, and it’s rained pretty much every day since then so they’ve barely had a chance to enjoy it yet. Luckily, it’s not going anywhere for quite some time!

We treasured having the family in town. Like I mentioned before, I made some nice dinners while they were in town to help us appreciate them – which I enjoyed very much. The boys basked in the glow of grandparental love. And they headed back up home on Christmas Eve, to participate in their own church holiday services and to spend Christmas with my nieces, who tragically lost their other grandmother just a couple of weeks ago and needed some lifting up, as did their wonderful father. What a thing – to bury your young mama just a few weeks before Christmas, a few days after her fifty-seventh birthday. We thought of him often throughout the season, knowing it was a hard holiday for him to endure.

Moving right along, we come to Christmas Eve. Our family was asked to light the Advent candles on Christmas Eve, which we did beautifully – mostly because Liam went straight to the nursery and skipped out on the candle lighting. Then we went home and I whipped up that macaroni and cheese dinner I’d promised, while the boys got into pjs. The boys were all business – they had a lot of “work” to do that evening – write Santa a note, sprinkle reindeer food on the lawn, set out milk and cookies and carrots, and brush their teeth and get into bed quickly enough that Santa wouldn’t skip our house. Though it had been 70 degrees the day before, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were COLD, and the boys ended up sending their father out to sprinkle the reindeer “oil meal” on the lawn. (It was oatmeal, given to him in a little sparkly bag at school. Jack just could not remember that the word was oatmeal, and kept saying variations of it all night – so funny).

Watching the sprinkling from the warmth of the doorway. Wimpy Southern children are even wimpier than their wimpy Southern dad, which I did not think possible

If you follow the text from top left to bottom right, and then up the left margin, it reads: Dear Santa. Welcome to our house. The house has cookies. Jack and Liam love Mom.

Their dad read them the Cajun Night Before Christmas, and then we tucked them into bed. Jack was very concerned that they get in their beds early so Santa wouldn’t turn away when he learned that there were little boys who were still awake in the house!

Pretending to sleep in case Santa comes early.

After they went to bed, we settled in to do our thing. The Professor was sporting a bad cold, and when I reminded him of a certain Big Wheel bike that Santa had brought us unassembled, the look he gave me was the most pitiful, pathetic look of weariness I have ever seen. He had clearly forgotten that this task lay ahead, and had been looking forward to doing a shot of Nyquil and falling asleep immediately on the couch. But he gathered himself together, took a deep breath, donned his heavy coat and trudged out into the garage to bang the bike together, while I did other Santa helper-y kind of activities inside. It didn’t take too long, and we were both in bed relatively early. I had wanted a fire that evening, but the boys would not have it, lest Santa burn his buns. So the Professor drank his Nyquil and I drank my very boring Pregnant Lady ice water, and we crawled into bed, each of us content with Christmas cheer, if a bit exhausted.

(You may recall the impassioned fight many years ago over Whether or Not to Wrap? You can see below who won. However, I won the “we open presents immediately” portion of the argument, since I think the Christmas gratification is delayed enough. So, you know. Marriage = compromise or whatever. I cannot recall why I once cared so deeply about this. There are so many other much more important things to fight over – like which refrigerator drawer to store the kids’ yogurts in, and whether to pay the credit card bill the day it’s due or the day we get paid.)

From Santa, each boy got a fishing pole (remember their summertime fascination with fishing? It hasn’t let up, so even though they didn’t ask for these, Santa brought them. I’m not really a fisherman or a hunter, but we live in Alabama, and when in Rome . . . ) Liam got a Big Wheel – Jack already has one, so now they can ride them together. Jack got a Batman watch and Brave computer game (not Spiderman, but Target was slim pickings on Christmas Eve), Liam got a model racecar, and each boy got one of these hideous things, which I just don’t understand but clearly some manufacturer hired some child psychologist to come up with it, because our children could not love them more. Jack’s is a blue penguin and Liam’s is a pink seal.

Officially from me and their father, they got the swingset, a couple of books, and Jack got that Alabama jersey. Otherwise, they were thoroughly spoiled by Aunts, Uncles, Great Aunts, Cousins, and of course, the grandparents, who bought them a few toys in addition to their swingset. At first, like I think is typical of most children their age, they were happy to play with the unwrapped stuff and were not super eager to tear into the wrapped items. We got them to open everything nevertheless, and eventually they got into it. Eventually, Liam stopped asking who things were for and just began opening every present he could see. I tried frantically to write it all down so they could do thank you cards later.

Liam was a blur for most of the morning.

Not too terribly messy. This year, I got them to toss the paper into the garbage as they went, so I wouldn't have to get on hands and knees and sift out the gifts later. — Despite how this looks it was not too terribly messy. This year, I got them to toss the paper into the garbage as they went, so I wouldn’t have to get on hands and knees and sift out the gifts later.

We had cinnamon rolls, which I’d made and frozen a few weeks before, and later had a nicer breakfast of sausage, eggs, and fruit. Then the boys put on some pajamas that they got as a gift, which they wore the rest of the day, and we opened our stockings.

They were mildly concerned at the smallness of their father’s and my piles, especially the slimness of our stockings. I – er – Santa had purchased a couple of small things to put in our stockings to keep up appearances, but I guess it wasn’t enough. Next year we’ll have to spoil ourselves more! 😉

We made phone calls to all of the absent family, who were very much missed. We napped and watched movies and played with toys and didn’t do a lick of work. It was a lovely day. I made the prime rib for dinner, and it was deliciously rare and yummy. We had a nice salad and bok choy and some grits, but skipped the peppermint chocolate cake in favor of eating up some old pie and Christmas cookies. The boys went to bed clutching their perplexingly ugly-yet-beloved loveys, and their father and I weren’t far behind. I had to work the next day – LAME – and Friday, too, but Friday I left early and we used some stocking stuffer movie tickets to go see a late matinee of Frozen. After spending several days kicking through piles of toys and discarded boxes and twist ties, we spent the weekend tidying it all up and remaining huddled inside, hiding from this endless rain, this time with a fire in the fireplace. We are still plowing our way through leftovers, eating up the last of the Christmas cookies, and at this point kind of craving carrots and celery and lettuce, after all the rich foods of December.

I think the boys got just enough stuff – not too much, not too little. And I think they had just enough time at home to thoroughly rest and enjoy it. And although my decorating and such was a little less enthusiastic than in other years when I am not heavily pregnant during the holidays, it all felt magical and perfect enough for me.

And now, as the boys say – “it’s after Christmas! When is the baby coming??”