Because it really is personal…

I am as bad as a 10 yr old where Christmas morning is concerned. I tossed around all night, waiting for 5 am so I could get up without the kids calling me a hypocrite. When 5am did get here, we both jumped out of bed and woke up the kids. Sweet Daddio is as bad as I am.

Let the chaos begin!

by 7am, paper and boxes covered the floor and everyone was busy figuring out their new aquisitions.

by 7:30, the bagels were sliced, smoked salmon and cream cheese put out, and breakfast was had.

Now, everyone is deeper into figuring out their stuff, Rosie ate half a chocolate orange, causing much dismay and consternation. We resolved the situation by squirting hydrogen peroxide down her goozle to make her barf, which she did, on my pants, on the floor, and all down the patio. Hard to believe an 8 pound dog could hold that much, but it’s out of her now and she’s no worse for the wear.

She just came in and curled up on my foot. Poor baby.

There’s a crock pot of chili to eat on all day, with fritos and a pot of hot cider on the stove. There were gourmet cheese and crackers in my stocking, I may have those for lunch.

Parents have called to wish a happy, #1 was here…

That’s the best part of all this. Not the doodads and thingamabobs, but the having everyone here, happy and healthy, just spending the day together, trying out each others new things, wearing clothes that smell like dog barf (not for long, I want to make sure she’s finished), noshing on bagels and salmon.

There’s a vibe to Christmas Day that’s different from any other. As if this is, indeed, a day set apart, time stands still, we all have permission to do nearly nothing. I’m thinking that’s why it’s such a special day. Not the gifts, but the time. For me, anyway. I don’t cook much this day, unless I just want to. No laundry, no cleaning (except what the dog throws up).

All the work can pick back up tomorrow. Today is all it’s own.