Christmas is my favorite time of year. I revel in every little bit of the Christmas celebration. But each year I forget until we are immersed in the season, that Christmas, at least how my family does it, is a marathon.
It is a fun marathon of gifts, visits with family, food and drink, but it is a marathon that saps you of any energy or any desire to get off the couch or out of your pajamas.
We started Christmas Eve at my grandparents with our traditional dinner: wine and much Italian food. It is a tradition in my family that after we are all seated for dinner, my grandfather directs one person to give a toast. We never know which person he is going to choose, but it always someone with something significant to celebrate. (I gave a barely coherent, rambling, teary eyed and hormone filled toast in 2006, nine days after giving birth to Brennan.)
This year, my grandfather chose my cousin Bridget. Bridget is a high school senior and just learned she was accepted to her first choice college. Her poise and beauty while she spoke of how blessed she feels to have our family as her own left not a dry eye in the house.
After the toast (and a good heaping gulp of wine), my grandfather selects someone to lead our table in grace. My sister in law Tennille gave a beautiful blessing and dinner was served.
A few minutes later, Griffin walked up to Chris and said in his ear, "I want to say something Daddy."
Chris laughed and told Griffin that if he did, indeed, want to say something to the table, then he had to go ask "Pop Pop" at the head of the table. Griffin nodded and set off for his great-grandfather.
I saw Griffin whispering in my grandfather's ear as he nodded with a smile and laughed. Griffin walked back to me, grabbed the seat next to me, sat down and yelled, "I want to say something!!!"
The chattering didn't stop. Griffin took a deep breath, and tried again.
"I WANT TO SAY SOMETHING."
We all laughed and grew silent as we looked at Griffin. He grew more shy as twenty some pairs of eyes watched him quietly.
"Close your eyes!" Griffin yelled as only a three year old can command.
We did. And then softly, he continued, "Merry Christmas."
It is hard to believe he is three. Just impossibly hard to believe most of the time.
The rest of the night passed with presents, laughter and time spent amongst those we love most in the world. I feel blessed everyday to share my life with my family, but even more so amongst the magic of Christmas.
The boys were up way too late. And again, Chris and I fervently hoped and prayed they would manage to sleep in a little later to make up for the late night bedtime.
They were all up at 5:30 a.m. Of course, right?! 5:30 is just too early for anything, even for Christmas.
The boys and Chris finally dragged me out of bed at 6:30 am. We spent the day in our pajamas opening gifts, playing and napping. It was lovely.
We finally had to force ourselves to get dressed for round two of holiday cheer at my Aunt and Uncle's house. If I could have, I would have gone to dinner in my pjs.
We celebrated Christmas with Chris's parents the day after Christmas. More gifts, more cheer, more holiday fun.
A marathon of celebrating the season with people you love. It must be the best Christmas present of all.
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