Merry Christmas!

I'm sitting in a patch of sun and feeling relieved and smug. Gosh I miss the sun so much. Thinking about rearranging this whole room just for this one gorgeous patch. The children are quietly squabbling in the petulant way one does after one has been give all one's heart's desire and one discovers, after all, that desire remains. Matt is working out and listening to a sermon–his favorite thing to do. I suppose I could try to take some small exercise today, what with the goose and the cake and the mashed potatoes. And the cheese. And the fluffy golden Buns. Oh my word. So much food.

And just a generally good congenial time, a merry Christmas, if such a thing is possible in these dark modern times. My pageant was generally successful. I think it was pretty and charming and that's what matters. All my failures of communication and foresight and timing I will make some notes of for myself for next year and then just forget about them. Elphine was a very creditable Mary and Romulus frowned threateningly and then grinned and then wouldn't leave, along with his guards, until I gestured wildly from the back and mouthed “Go! Go!” Hoping and praying for a video.

Then we came home and hustled the kids to bed and Matt turned on some loud Netflix Anthony Bourdain to cover the noise of wrapping and moving. Because there are so many of us, it looks like we are terrible consumers, which we are. But, as I kept muttering to myself, if you give each child five things, that's five times six, oh whatever. Everyone got something splendid. Matt gave me a fake fireplace, which I have been whining for for a long time. It's light and I'm going to haul it from room to room and pretend that we have a fire place everywhere. When you light our crackling candle, and squint, it's pretty cosy.

And we ate a gorgeous dinner. Remembered the sparkling apple stuff for the kids. Feel sad that the children are truly eating the food. Seconds of potato, sob. And then Matt's aunt and cousins cleaned the kitchen, the whole thing. By that point in the day, it was the best present ever.

So here we are. We survived. And didn't die. Actually, didn't come close to dying. For many many years I have dreaded Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter and Birthdays and everything really. And Matt has been mad at me. “It's a feast!” he will admonish, “it's supposed to be joyful.” But, you know, I've been pregnant and nursing for ten years and that comes with a certain kind of being so tired that you just feel like throwing up and then lying on the couch and perishing. And yet you get up and keep going. And your bones are just tired. Everything is tired. You just have to muscle through. The little glimpses of light keep you going. But joy, I don't know, it's been too hard to get there.

But eventually the children detach themselves from your flesh, praise God. They eat potatoes and bathe themselves. They pick up their own wrapping paper. They clean the bathroom and run the vacuum. When they decide to sleep in the office, they drag all their sleeping bags there themselves. It's so amazing. Just sleeping all the way through the night produces Christmas cheer. I love that Tasha Tudor book called Take Joy but I wish it was called The Joy Will Be Given When You Sleep All Night And Your Children Participate In The Work, although that's not as pithy.

So Merry Christmas! If you like that sort of thing. And probably a Happy New Year. And St. Stephens Day? Is that today? And may everything fall back into order as quickly as possible!