Christmas Memories

I'll never forget this Christmas for several reasons. It has probably been the best Christmas we've had in our five years of marriage.

I don't really remember much about our first Christmas, except my in-laws made me feel very welcome, and I got a very nice razor.

The image of our second Christmas is my round-bellied wife, due in January. We opened several sets of baby clothes. My sister-in-law wished aloud that the baby could be there. I sat in a daze, still unprepared for what was to come a month later.

Cate's first Christmas is also a blur to me. I wish I had better memories of it.

My image of Cate's second Christmas is of her being so excited about her new tricycle. She discovered it in the carport, and she made us all push her around for a long time, laughing heartily.

Last year, Cate was beginning to get it, and she was excited. It was fun watching her grasp the concept of presents. Ava was tiny and not much for the whole thing.

This year, Cate was positively stoked. She helped hang ornaments on three Christmas trees. Her first thought every morning was the advent calendar. Get out of bed. Put glasses on. Go to advent calendar. Count how many days until Christmas.

And then there was Oliver. Oliver is the Babb manifestation of the popular "Elf on the Shelf" child behavioral trend that has swept the nation. You get a small elf. He comes with book to make it look innocent, but the terms are that this elf will watch you all of December and report to Santa whether or not you are good or bad. Presumptively, he would make a quick trip every night to the North Pole to report on the day's activities and come back before sunrise. Your child would know that he went because he had moved since you last saw him. The game to the child is to find the elf the next morning. The game to the grownups is to cite the elf's watchful eye when the child is acting up. I'm really not sure I am for this, but it worked pretty well with Cate. When Cate would begin to act up, Lauren would say "Oh, Oliver, what do you think about that?" and the behavior would be quickly corrected. Obviously, this did not work with Ava. I am not even sure she knew Oliver existed, and to be truthful, she would probably just as well give Oliver the finger than be held hostage by his tattling threats. I guess we'll see in a couple of years.

My wife deserves a tremendous amount of credit for conceiving of the idea of the girls' main present. Pictures are below. Lauren did all of the sewing (which was a lot, maybe 3 months' worth), and it came together just as she envisioned it. My sister-in-law deserves a ton of credit for her hard work. She was up late for about 5 nights in a row working up there. And on Christmas eve, my mother-in-law and I helped put it all together. We finished about 3 A.M. Had Nancy not been there, somebody might've died. Everyone's nerves were pretty severely rattled. At around 1:30 in the morning, as we got to what I perceived to be "Let's get this *&!@ thing finished" time,"my sister-in-law would ask something like "Lauren, I am not sure about the surface of this paint on this stool leg. Should I mahge pahge it?" Then they would enter into a ten minute discussion about the benefits of mahge pahge and whether or not it applied in this situation. Nancy and I would look at each other, and I would offer, in the gentlest way I could muster, that perhaps, mahge pahge on half of an inch of stool leg doesn't matter at 2 in the morning.

We finished. Out of necessity, all the presents were upstairs in the playroom with the newly constructed playhouse. Santa left a note on the Christmas tree, along with a special key to the playroom that explained the situation, and we headed off to bed as Santa's poor, tired, and smelly helpers drove home.

At 7:30, I heard Cate's door open. Too tired to open my eyes, I heard the pitter-patter of footsteps as she ran into the living room. There was a pause, and then a slow walk to our bedroom.

"Daddy," she said, "Santa didn't bring us any presents this year, but there's a note, and it says 'Cate and Ava,' but I don't know what the rest of it says."

Still too tired to even open my eyes, I pulled her up in the bed. "There's a note, huh?" I mumbled.

"Yeah."

"Oh, well, are you disappointed that he didn't bring any presents?" I asked, wanting to test my daughter in this most delicate of moments.

"No. Maybe he'll bring us some presents next year," she said. She said it hopefully, not sadly. She was not upset. Test passed. I was sort of amazed as a Dad at that moment.

'Well," I said, "let's go see what the note says," I said, forcing myself out of the warm bed.

"Ok," she said.

And then, "I don't know why he didn't bring us any toys. I've been nice this year. Where's Oliver?"

I was too groggy to appreciate it at the time, but Lauren and I got a good laugh out of later. Where the hell was Oliver, that little snitch? What's he been telling the big man? I've been good. He's been telling lies on me. I am gonna take this up with him.

They loved their gifts. Lauren and I loved the warmth of my old bed at Moms as we took the most delightful Christmas nap anyone has ever known.

So for this year, I'll remember the exhaustion, the tired eyes of my wife as we worked to get Christmas ready, the patience and calming spirit of Nancy, the mostly-awful Christmas music that Catherine made us listen to as we worked, and the conversation described above.

I'll also remember carrying my daughter through the rain and wind into the packed Sanctuary at First Methodist at 4:00 P.M. It was so crowded, we had to get a folding chair. She was going to sit in my lap for an hour. Her usual church activity of coloring would be greatly hindered by the lack of pew space. I'll remember that she was perfect the entire time. I'll remember watching her sing "Away in the Manger," and picking up the "Gloria, In Excelsis Deo" part on "Angels We Have Heard on High." I'll remember walking her down for Christmas Eve Communion. I'll remember watching her eyes as they dimmed the lights and began to light the candles during Silent Night. She was fascinated by all this. She took it all in. I hope, on some microscopic level, she took in some of God's Incarnate Love that came down 2000 years ago in the form of the most humble creature imaginable.

What a great Christmas it was. What a wonderful family I have.

-Joe