Chapter Nine: What Christmas Means to Me

Christmas means singing all your favourite anthems and hymns on Christmas Eve. Christmas also means getting up earlier than you really want to get up, because even though your children are all older now,

they still aren't so old that getting to the Christmas stockings isn't an exciting and much anticipated event.  (Joseph contained himself on this particular morning by reading Babar and Father Christmas out loud to Willah while she finished the most wonderful Christmas card ever for Glenn.)  As you can see, we did eventually we get to the stockings and they were all extremely satisfying:

Christmas means an uneasy feline truce... which I recall being the one thing I hoped for back in June: that both cats could be in the same room without killing each other. Mission accomplished. Sort of.

Christmas means the most beautiful tree in the world,

it also means getting new underwear in your stocking,

as well as really weird things like glowing teeth guards.  (well how cool is that!?)

Christmas means hanging favourite ornaments like gilt oak leaves, and the collection of travelling Santas.

Like glass ornaments brought carefully back from Venice,  and retro metal ones like steamers with wheels.

 Christmas means making sticky buns for breakfast when your brain is so confused and tired that you aren't sure if you got the ingredients straight, but which always seem to turn out just fine anyway.

 Christmas means loving the baby Christmas tree too, with its white lights and little felt ornaments.  Christmas means sneaking a quick nap and then going for the obligatory, brisk walk around the neighbourhood and wondering if it was really worth it because it was actually  freezing cold outside, and my ears were numb by the time we got back.

Christmas means having Christmas crackers at dinner and a family who doesn't mind wearing silly hats.

Christmas means being really tired. But happy.