It is over…finally.  The last guest has left, and it is only the fifth of January.  We don’t have Christmas, we have Christmas, Christmas, Christmas.  I have so much to cover, dear ones.  I don’t know where to begin…oh wait…I do.  My family Christmas.  Then we will cover my in-laws Christmas, and our family Christmas because when it comes to Christmas we are (ahem) blessed.

Many years ago, when my family was just sisters and kids we had Christmas at my parent’s home.  As the years have passed and the family has grown we have had to move Christmas to my sister’s home.  Her house is larger and it  made more sense.  So each Christmas eve we loaded up the kids and the presents and the food and went to my sister’s.  Time passed, and the kids had kids, and they developed their own Christmas traditions and fewer people are showing up at my sister’s.  This year we only had ourselves (my husband and myself) and one son.  I foolishly asked my son if I could take my grandson, because I wanted to show him off.  With a relatively small amount of arm twisting he relented and off we went on our merry way.  Now we don’t have a large car, we drive a Honda Accord hybrid…seats 4 comfortably, 5 painfully.  On this hour and a half journey we had my sister, my mother, my grandson in his car seat, my husband and myself.   The baby had not had a nap all day and his mother threatened me if he didn’t sleep in the car.   So armed with only a bottle and good thoughts the precious bundle was placed in the backseat with his great-granny and great aunt.  I am sure that when we were small my mother understood the need for naps.  I don’t know any mother who doesn’t, so why did she insist on playing peek-a-boo and every other game in his limited repertoire?  Upon constantly being told that he needed to nap she finally relented and let the little guy sleep about an hour from our destination.  Just enough sleep to make him really upset when we arrived at my sisters.  So I take my 18 month old grandson who is cranky from not having had enough sleep into a house full of strangers and expect him to behave well enough to impress my relatives with what a great little guy he is.  About two hours into the visit he warmed up.  The first two hours he spent on my hip looking at everyone like they were alien beings who should be committed (to be fair, on occasion I have looked at my family the same way). He was not at all sure about his cousins.  He has one that is just one month older, but about 10 pounds heavier and three inches taller.  I don’t think he knew what to think about this mammoth child.  He didn’t understand the toy situation.  The toys weren’t his, but should the mammoth be allowed to take them from him at will?  He also has a three year old cousin who is the brother of the nineteen month old.  This cousin is used to bossing his brother around and taking toys from him.  My grandson was about ready to go medieval on this cousin.  He just doesn’t cotton to being bullied.  He has ten teeth and he is willing to use them.  About the time he had asserted his dominance of the situation it was time to go home.  Once again I place him in the car with his great-grandmother and hope for the best.  Ten minutes later he is out of milk and I am out of hope.  Have you ever tried looking for milk on Christmas eve at ten o’clock in the evening?  It ain’t pretty.  I was about ready to jump out of the car into a field and milk some unsuspecting cow.  Sometimes you will do whatever it takes to make a baby stop crying.  We finally found milk and peace and the baby slept all the way home and for the rest of the night.  So did I, although I did question my mental abilities after that, and I mean strongly questioned…seriously!

On the twenty-seventh of December we celebrated Christmas  with my husband’s family.  I would love to explain my husband’s family to you, but first someone would have to explain them to me.  I have only been a family member for 13 years and I think there is like a 25 year limit before you get the handbook.  I’ll have to ask my non vag. sister.  This is what I know:  my husband’s parents were childhood sweethearts who married young.  They had two only children…one is my brother-in-law the other is my husband.  My brother-in-law was a boy, my husband was a miracle.  My brother-in-law married my non vag. sister before my husband was born.  They have a son who is only eight months younger than his uncle, my husband.  My mother-in-law didn’t warm up to me right away.  I was not the daughter-in-law she dreamed of.  My husband assures me that when it came to him marrying no one would have measured up.  I, however am sure I was the daughter-in-law  she had nightmares about.  It took me a scant eight years to win her over.  She passed away last year, and my father-in-law remarried.  The rest of the family is much more familiar with his new wife than I am, and I am frankly still a little worn out from trying to win over my other mother so I haven’t really bonded with the new Mrs.  My husband’s godmother lives in Kansas City, Kansas and is an amazing woman who is 89 years old.  She handles this whole famn damily with grace and dignity.  Now that you know the whole clan here is what went on…I awoke on the 27th aching from head to toe.  I assume it was the cold, rainy weather but you know what is said about assuming.  I spent the morning on finishing touches for our little gathering and while I was working on this my father-in-law called.  He wanted to see what was going on.  I told him that I had finished the vegetable tray, my son was working on the fruit tray, my daughter and her possibly future step-son were making reindeer sugar cookies and I was about to begin the crab dip.  I said that once that was complete I needed to get in the shower and things should probably be ready to roll by about 1:30.  (insert crickets chirping here)  “Will that be okay?”  After an interminable pause I hear in a very put out voice “I guess it will have to be”.  Now, I may have mentioned this before, and if I have just bear with me…we stay up late.  Very Late!!  We don’t get up early…early around here is like 10:30 or 11:00 a.m.  I had been working my ass off ever since I had gotten up and I had told him the day before when he came by that things would be ready about 1:30 or so and he has to cop a ‘tude?  I took pain medication.  Lots of pain medication.  I took my time getting ready.  I came downstairs about an hour later than I had planned.  I must have had my “don’t eff with me” look on my face because no one said a word to me.  Either that, or my husband had informed everyone that today was not a good day.  We played games as a family, and we entered our names in a drawing for a trophy upon winning each game.  We did our little roundabout and exchanged gifts and by 8:00 p.m. the old folks were ready for bed.  Now I could have been ugly and pointed out that for some of us this was the shank of the evening, or I could have gone to their hotel rooms and kept them up, but I didn’t.  I’m not stupid.  They left and we enjoyed the company of my brother-in-law and non vag. sister.  We celebrated in a way that truly describes our family dynamic…we watched the Ultimate Fighting Championship.  We were able to cry for the blood and death that we all desired and felt no shame whatsoever.  Merry Christmas….Now Bleed m’er f’er!!

Our family Christmas was held on the 29th.  A long time ago when I was naive enough to think my children listened to what I said I proclaimed our Christmas would be New Year’s Day.  That way everyone would have a day off and anyone who needed to go to in-laws or create a tradition with their own children would have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to do so.  That lasted about 2 years.  Once the two youngest kids got old enough to move out and get jobs there were complications. This was compounded when one moved to Chicago and the other had to help a friend with a family emergency in Sacramento.  It now looks like both of them will be in California next year so it’s a crap shoot what will happen with our family Christmas.  After hearing my son and non vag. daughter voice concerns about having Christmas early, and they thought we were always having it on New Year’s Day, I was so frustrated I just said that’s it.  We had put up with a bunch of complaining last year when busy schedules and crappy weather kept my son in Chicago until the middle of January…and being tired of what seemed to be a recurring theme…I told them that next year I was sending everyone a check and on New Year’s Day the grandson could open his presents and maybe I would cook.  Not only do I not think anyone believed me, I don’t think anyone listened to me, so proclamations from me now mean nothing.  Like they ever did.  I’ll never learn.  We opened our presents on the 29th and no one bitched (at least to me) and I was afraid they might since thanks to the economy we had to celebrate what I lovingly refer to as “Christmas Lite”.  There used to be a rule, “if mama ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy” so I guess everyone had a happy Christmas.  I just want all my chickens home, briefly, and no one arguing, ever.  Now tell me, is that too much to ask?

So all that is left is taking it all down.  My husband took down the exterior illumination today.  The interior decorations remain.  It’s never as much fun taking it down.  We also moved our daughter out of her house and back into ours so we have a few of her things that haven’t found a permenant home yet.  We all ate way too much candy (you know who is to blame…but thanks it was delicious), and far too many cookies.  It is with great regret that we begin our diets…but it must be done.  Rather than think of how much I hate it, I am trying to think of all the material it will give me.  I can’t believe another Christmas, and year is behind me.  They seem to be snowballing…and so begins a new year.  The family traditions, however; will probably remain the same.  Family will be outlandish, and sometimes demanding.  We will stress ourselves over things that aren’t really important, and in the end it all gets wrapped in bubble wrap and put in storage.