After the gifts are all opened at our house and I have sufficiently cleaned up every tiny scrap of wrapping paper and found a home for every tiny toy, the kids are packed up, still in their jammies, and off to grandmother's house we go. We have a power breakfast there with almost all my siblings and my almost 91 year old Grammy, heavy on the coffee.
Christmas might possibly bring out the worst in my kids. Every gift is mine. And the impatience abounds. The tantrums lie so very close to the surface and they break through at every chance they get. Add in to the equation a physically uncomfortable mother tinkering on the edge of illness and well... what a pleasant bunch us Olsens made that day.
But open gifts we did. Kids first of course because heaven forbid they wait their turn like the rest of us do. It's not that difficult little children. David got two more TrackMaster Trains that he recgonized before even opening the package. I would say obsessed is quite the understatement, as they go everywhere with him. And why yes, Gordon is lucky engine number Four as opposed to Ma-Mas being number One, he knows his numbers, that one. He got Thomas undies from his Aunt Beth and Uncle Colton that he most definitely yes wants to wear but he does not want to go "om potty." He got a pirate puzzle and some lego kits which are just fantastically destroying my house multiple times a day (Matt is working on a storage and organization system worthy of my OCD). He got Lincoln Logs like in days of olde. He cleaned up. Let's be honest. Letty received Frozen gear upon Frozen gear. Jammies (doesn't Aunt Beth know her Letty?), slippers, Elsa shoes, games upon games. A bead kit, princessy legos, all of which she neatly stacked on the steps, keeping them organized and separate from the madness. I wonder where she gets that. And all of my children had their college funds generously padded by their Uncle T and their Great-Grammy.
As far as the big kids go there was the normal Christmas fare, clothing, shoes, throw blankets, tools, cooking supplies, a coat, a tent (?), books, etc. All good things, all good things, to quote my buddy Olaf. Nonna and Poppop are and have always been so very good to us. We are a lucky lucky bunch in a million and one ways, gifts being the least of it all.
We didn't stay too long at my parent's because of course Chef Matteo had quite the spread planned. Roast Beast, Yorkshire Puddings, Brown-Buttered Noodles, Two-Timing Potatoes (otherwise known as twice-baked but this is more fun to say) and Sweet Corn from our summer harvest. While he started dealing with this feast I broke down and took my temperature, having started to feel under the weather and shaky and cold. Turns out a fever I most certainly had. According to my discharge papers a fever of that magnitude merited a phone call to my OB which of course being Christmas was closed. So to the hospital I went to be diagnosed with mastitis. If you aren't familiar with that don't google it, it scarred me for life. I got my first dose of antibiotics and some nice warm slippers and a sweatshirt and charged on. As one must, as it's Christmas.
And so just like that, happening ever so quickly, another Christmas comes to a close. The decorations may hang around for another week or so but we all know the joy and cheer of the season has faded. For another ten months or so. It's a good thing I have a newborn to occupy my time and thought or I would be one sad panda.
