A Super-Short Smattering...

...Of my favorite Christmas photos, possibly ever.

(A.k.a. Suzy Gets Flung Around And Kissed, Nora Sneaks Incredible Amounts Of Desserts, And My Dad Regrets Starting The "Night Before Christmas" Story Tradition Back In The '80s.)

Santa Baby.

Oh Mom. Zuzu looks odd.

Merriest of Christmases, everyone! Or rather, a superbly happy Boxing Day to you all. I love boxes, boxed lunches, boxty, the boxstep, and Oscar De La Hoya.

Our Christmas Eve was spent at a church in the Berkshires that we don't regularly attend, but which was quite nice, nonetheless. There were carols, there were lessons, there were snacks and books shared over the pews by miniature cousins, there were inopportunely timed 'Amens' from smallish blond children, and there was at least once incredibly good (and sleepy) infant in her finest velour duds- complete with ruffled headband.

My Dad read 'Twas The Night Before Christmas to all of his grandchildren...with extremely varied reactions. There were boys who completely dug every single line. There were girls who pointedly disagreed with the entire endeavor. There was one snoozer. But- and most importantly- it was all captured on film, including a poignant moment where I yelled at my biggie daughter to sit on the couch RIGHT NOW. (Fa la la.)

After the kids fell asleep, my father found and played a video from Christmas morning, 1991. (My finest year, fashion/face/hair-wise.) A few filmed moments were pretty incredible:
-The fact that someone- quite possibly my folks- actually gifted my 4 year-old twin sisters tinny microphones attached to tape decks.
-That my '91 Era Dad received a flannel which he recently gave to my '11 Era husband...which would have blown the mind of '91 Era Keely, playing with a porcelain doll recently positioned on the shelf of '11 Era Daughter.
-And the weird realization that an awful lot of [colorful] pens were presented back and forth that year.

On Christmas morning, my daughters actually slept in. Which was completely overruled by my nephews' excited pre-dawn pre-game.

And guess what? Santa really did a number on the under-6 set. But apparently he needlessly overdid it. For Nora was disinterested in ANY other gifts once she spied a [2 buck] Strawberry Shortcake activity book. Really. At least Susannah feigned interest in her teething rings and rainbow sock monkey. Nora was done.

As for me, Santa Husband was pretty darned terrific. Among my gifts were some pretty sweet cards for clothing which- once I get my pre-baby body back (a week from now, tops)- will be used the heck out of, a monogrammed charm for Suzy for my bracelet, a new Nora Roberts novel, and- one of the coolest things ever ever ever- an oversized mug proclaiming me to be the World's Best Mom...

...With "Somehow I Manage" on the opposing side. (Anyone? "Office" fans? What if I made a dramatic shrugging motion while saying it?)

P.J. received a day at a Russian spa/bath in Chicago for a day of relaxation/detox/potential nudity and a pair of hiking boots (which he promptly decided to exchange.) At least one present was received happily. This is better than my usual present to Peej/Peej's immediate return rate.

Nora got a personal DVD player- for all of her personal viewing needs. Susannah got a pewter baby cup and a fascinating number of sock monkeys. (A new red wagon for two is waiting for them under our tree at home- shh...thankfully my girls cannot read/are not fans of my blog.)

And- for real- we were all spoiled by a downright insane number of gifts from sisters, boyfriends, parents, nephews, aunts, uncles, and daughters. Cincinnati giftitude (in the form of delightfully Ohioan food) was shipped in from my in-laws.

I took a bath. And a nap. And read. Ate way too much terrific wonderfulness at the hands of my parents. (Well, their cooking abilities. But I used my hands.)

Suzy's first Christmas was extremely special.

But I'm not surprised- they're all extremely special.

Especially back in '91 when I was (on camera) quite stoked to receive a) a new Barbie (Really, Keely? At 11? Really?), b) hot pink paperclips, and c) shoe deodorizers.

I'm pretty sure there's a lesson in there somewhere.

Deep down.

Also "Lords A'Leaping." I Also Wish You That.

In light of the fact that I am currently traveling through Chicago's luxurious Midway Airport, I'll keep my Christmas greeting brief (yet full of love- and perhaps only a bit of pith):

During this holiday season (and anytime else, really), I wish you cookies without slightly burned undersides, rendering the whole cookie kinda smoky...

...And helpful people. Like mail carriers who remember to close the mailbox on rainy/snowy days. And toddlers who don't remove their boots in public places. Like restrooms. While we're on that note, I wish you more Helpful Toddler and less Public Restroom in general.

I wish you naps. Glorious, snuggly, 3-blanket drowsy naps with nary a responsibility in the world...except maybe to inform someone what kind of beverage you'd like upon awakening. Maybe even the type of nap where a fabulously droney documentary is playing in the background, so you can sleep with the fuzzy knowledge that, by napping on the living room couch, you're still being borderline "social."

I wish you abject joy. The kind of joy that comes from explaining- with as much technical jargon as humanly possible- how exactly Santa Claus works. I hope you have a season where you get to concretely affirm the existence of magic (at least once).  

And lights. And decorations. And really, truly, eye-poppingly crazy displays of holiday cheer that- yeah, sure- are placing obscene amounts of money directly into the pocket of ComEd...but I still wish it for you. Because garish ornamentation at Christmastime makes one feel like a seven year-old. And, for real, is there anything better than being a seven year-old at Christmas?

I wish you love, family (or a decided lack o' family, if that's your happy place), and more than your fair share of nog. (Again, only if you like it. If not- NO NOG.)

And I hope you receive the noisiest, sparkliest, newest, and pokey-eye-outiest toy this side of A Christmas Story.

Oh yeah, and I also wish- as I have since I started writing letters to Santa in 1986- for world peace. (But also the sparkly toy, if that's cool.)

(Merry Christmas.)

Best Holiday Visit Ever.

(Miss you guys already, Seavers!)