The eve
Our Christmas Eve was somewhat uneventful today. With our niece coming into town, we prepared the house for her arrival. Michael and I took the dog for a long walk, and I watched football in the afternoon. We went to church -- the children's Mass, which is still as long as a normal Christmas Mass but geared more toward families (including it's 4 p.m. start). We came home for dinner, watched a little bit of "It's a Wonderful Life" and put the boys to bed. Lori started wrapping presents while I picked Dakota up from the airport. Here I am, the last hour of Christmas Eve, blogging before I go to bed.
Even after two months of holiday music, it's still difficult to believe it's already Christmas. The lack of snow hasn't helped. Make no mistake, I prefer no snow to lots of it, but I can deal with it around Christmas, particularly after weeks of hearing "Winter Wonderland" and "Sleigh Ride." Instead, we get a brown Christmas here in Utah. That's OK -- it's still Dec. 25, the boys will still wake up far too early, and I haven't had to shovel.
Every December, I think I hope for some idyllic, 1950s Christmas complete with shopping trips in some large downtown, perfect snowy nights to frolic about in (that might be more 1890s out of some Carl Sandburg/Norman Rockwell collaboration) and no stress. That's a different era, perhaps a different reality. The present Christmas is even different than the holidays of the 1970s and '80s. Times haven't just changed -- I've changed. Christmas is still joyous, but from a different angle, one of a parent instead of a child. Tomorrow morning, none of that will matter when Michael and Ben excitedly open their presents. That's their angle, and I hope they love it for as long as they can.
About this time on Christmas Eve, I prefer hearing the religious Christmas songs as opposed to the Santa/winter/New Year's tunes. Looking out the window into the cold, dark (though not snowy), I can't help thinking of the songs commemorating why we celebrate Christmas. Maybe I'll hear "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" as I try to fall asleep tonight.
Even after two months of holiday music, it's still difficult to believe it's already Christmas. The lack of snow hasn't helped. Make no mistake, I prefer no snow to lots of it, but I can deal with it around Christmas, particularly after weeks of hearing "Winter Wonderland" and "Sleigh Ride." Instead, we get a brown Christmas here in Utah. That's OK -- it's still Dec. 25, the boys will still wake up far too early, and I haven't had to shovel.
Every December, I think I hope for some idyllic, 1950s Christmas complete with shopping trips in some large downtown, perfect snowy nights to frolic about in (that might be more 1890s out of some Carl Sandburg/Norman Rockwell collaboration) and no stress. That's a different era, perhaps a different reality. The present Christmas is even different than the holidays of the 1970s and '80s. Times haven't just changed -- I've changed. Christmas is still joyous, but from a different angle, one of a parent instead of a child. Tomorrow morning, none of that will matter when Michael and Ben excitedly open their presents. That's their angle, and I hope they love it for as long as they can.
About this time on Christmas Eve, I prefer hearing the religious Christmas songs as opposed to the Santa/winter/New Year's tunes. Looking out the window into the cold, dark (though not snowy), I can't help thinking of the songs commemorating why we celebrate Christmas. Maybe I'll hear "Hark the Herald Angels Sing" as I try to fall asleep tonight.
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