Bah Humbug.

Christmas just wasn't the same.

"AWWWWW fun!! Babies' first Christmas!"

Yeah, tons of fun. They basically ate paper and ruined Christmas morning.

Brandon and I reclaimed the magic of Christmas when we decided that we'd rather have a holly jolly root canal than spend another Christmas away from each other. The tradition of driving to a small, family-operated tree farm in the mountains to cut our own tree was born. As was filling an entire room with shiny boxes adorned with curly, colorful, delicious ribbons. Sitting by the fire and opening gifts . . . slowly . . . one at a time . . . as Layla nuzzles into my lap while chewing a dinosaur's femur. Then a nap (not really, but had we known . . . oh, had we known . . . it would have been a traditional staple of Christmas morning).

BABIES' FIRST CHRISTMAS:

• Okay, first of all, why are you waking up angry? I'm not talking to the babies. Or the dog. Or myself.
• There should have been a mistletoe hanging over our heads. And instead of kissing under the mistletoe, you punch your partner in the stomach. That's what Christmas morning was like.
• Dammit, I was really good this year, why did Santa bring me a stocking full of Christmas HATE?
• No digital recording devices in place to capture the moment when our eleven month old girls experience Santa for the first time . . . Brandon takes Zadie into the Peppermint Forest Christmas Shop, you know, the room that's gated off?, plops her down in front of the magical-374-musical-instruments-in-one-sliding-hunk-of-plastic-shit that Santa brought THE GIRLS, BOTH GIRLS, and Lydia and I hear her playing it from THE KITCHEN. Merry Christmas to you too, honey.
• Mommy pops a jingle benzo bell and breathes . . . maybe, just maybe . . .
• Okay, here's the order of opening gifts: Girls, Mommy, Daddy (in order of who received the most presents). This is very important.
  
• We wanted the kids to open their own presents. Or at least enjoy tearing the paper. And they really got into it on present one of seventy-eight, then just tried to find surge protectors and glass balls to shove into their mouths.
• I open a gift, Brandon opens a gift, we open a gift for Zadie, then one for Lydia. We didn't even look to see who the gift went to. Just dammit, stop eating the paper/box/chair/tree/fireplace and play with this doll/instrument/stacker/dress/puppet/dvd player! I open a gift, Brandon opens a gift, and so on . . .
• We put the girls down for a nap.
• We finally enjoy Christmas morning.

As with everything in our life, things are just different. Call me a selfish bitch all you want, but I don't think that Christmas is all about the kids-- especially when they would have been happier with a box full of tissue paper. It's still about ME TOO, thank you very much. Is there a gift for me to open? Hand it here and I'll show you that yes, IT'S STILL ABOUT ME! I'm not being robbed of these experiences, I'm just dealing with the way they've changed. While every day has it's own sparkling magic because of my two-little-peanut-butter-pocket-pixies, every day brings unexpected differences as well. While colors may have never looked so vibrant and songs never broke my heart so often, it's so much more difficult to watch, to listen. So much harder to find in their new place. Stuffed behind keeping your two hearts alive and happy.

SORRY, I lost myself for a minute.

**MY FAVORITE GIFT!**

While the hair-band stocking stuffers were probably the most useful gift of the year . . .


I would have to say that this print from BlackEyedSuzie is my favorite gift of all (maybe next year I'll get one of her dolls?? . . .).