We've decided to stay home for Christmas this year. This is a big change for us because we haven't spent a Christmas at our own house since Wyatt was born. We've always gathered with a large family crowd in OKC or Seattle. This year, Wyatt was overly concerned Santa couldn't find us if we ventured too far. And I think this might be his last year believing in Santa; he's asking too many smart, insightful questions about the jolly old fella. So I told hubby that I wanted to have a Christmas morning in our own home.
I feel great about being at home, but a little sad too. Why? I like my holidays full of people and commotion. The community of siblings and extended family gathering in the kitchen, watching movies, and telling stories of their year - all that activity gets me in the holiday spirit. I feed off of the families' energy. I've come to expect the occasional misconduct and family dysfunction. I don't shy away from the ugly stuff - I know it's all part of the package.
So this year, it will be special to wake up to my own french toast casserole and watch my kids open presents perched at their own hearth - but I will miss the hussle of the jam packed, family holiday.
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