I'm extremely pleased to announce that all of my Christmas shopping has been completed, packages mailed out, the tree is decorated, and stocking stuffers purchased! This is nothing short of a Christmas miracle.
I hope to have a nice relaxing week (need all the strength I can get for the double onslaught of visitors and Christmas with small children). We have a couple playdates lined up and I'll buy our baking supplies so we can bake with Grandma on Saturday and Sunday. The house is even fairly picked up (for us) and that way I can just put the refining touches on it throughout the week. Oh, and there are a few gifts that must be wrapped. We are NOT placing them under the tree until the Moment of Truth, however; the boys next door opened up all of their gifts already and my kids were pretty impressed with that strategy. Oh, and I suppose I ought to think about Christmas dinner. Still, all these tasks are nothing to the feat of purchasing and sending dozens of gifts for dozens of people all over America.
Thinking back on my childhood and holiday memories, I remembered one of our hallowed family traditions: the hiding of the Baby Jesus. We don't have any nativities here at our house (what with the not being Christian), but every year I'm tempted to get one just to relive this memory. We always followed the rule of Baby Jesus doesn't go in the creche until Christmas morning (or was it Eve?). So the nativity would be all set up and then my mom would put Baby Jesus in a drawer until the big moment. Well, then, one year, my dad decided that Baby Jesus would be more comfortable in the cabinet with the plates and bowls. So when you'd go for your cereal bowl in the morning--there was Baby Jesus! Sometimes you'd find him in the (empty) butter dish. Or the sugar bowl. Or the potted plants. You just never knew where you'd find him! We have delightful memories of discovering Baby Jesus all over the house. Actually, we usually had several nativities going at once, so there were several Baby Jesuses hiding all over the house. And then we'd make a big ceremony of putting them in their mangers. So, that's a little bit about growing up in my family, and a little bit about my dad and his sense of humor. Good times!
Okay, off to get some more work done.