Way Too Early Chirstmas Morning
On the first Christmas I can remember, I was out of bed at 2am to open my presents. I shredded the paper first thing to play with all of my fabulous new toys. Five hours later, my parents emerged from their bedroom* with disappointment on their faces; they missed the opportunity to see the joy in my eyes as I tore into my presents, or maybe they just didn’t want to clean up the horrific mess I made. That’s all I remember about that Christmas. That, and the fact that I was really grumpy that day.
Twenty-some years later, I was again up at 2am on Christmas morning to tear into something, but this package wasn’t so much joyous as stinky. After feeding and changing the twins, I went back to sleep. Three hours later,** I did the same thing. A little later, I woke up for good to take care of Abbie. After that, the twins needed another feed ‘N change. Shortly after 9am, a time that would have killed me to wait for twenty years ago, we finally set about opening presents. We took a picture before doing so to preserve the memory.
We look goofy, but we learned long ago that when taking family photos, it doesn’t matter what the adults look like as long as the kids have a presentable expression.
Abbie received too many toys, and they mostly came from us so we have no one to blame but ourselves when we spend the next 12 months stepping on broken toy pieces. The twins received mostly clothes from our families, which is perfect since they’re several months away from developing the motor skills needed to throw a ball no matter how boldly the words “All-Star” are emblazoned on their onesie. Ellie and I exchanged beautiful gifts that required onerous amounts of effort and cash to acquire.
Nah, we have newborn twins; we don’t have time or money. I gave Ellie my blessing to shop on the day after Christmas without the children. Ellie gave me the opportunity to nap after opening presents. I was up at 2 this morning after all.
* Slackers.
** Those four-hour stretches at night that I bragged about at first keep getting shorter.
Twenty-some years later, I was again up at 2am on Christmas morning to tear into something, but this package wasn’t so much joyous as stinky. After feeding and changing the twins, I went back to sleep. Three hours later,** I did the same thing. A little later, I woke up for good to take care of Abbie. After that, the twins needed another feed ‘N change. Shortly after 9am, a time that would have killed me to wait for twenty years ago, we finally set about opening presents. We took a picture before doing so to preserve the memory.
We look goofy, but we learned long ago that when taking family photos, it doesn’t matter what the adults look like as long as the kids have a presentable expression.
Abbie received too many toys, and they mostly came from us so we have no one to blame but ourselves when we spend the next 12 months stepping on broken toy pieces. The twins received mostly clothes from our families, which is perfect since they’re several months away from developing the motor skills needed to throw a ball no matter how boldly the words “All-Star” are emblazoned on their onesie. Ellie and I exchanged beautiful gifts that required onerous amounts of effort and cash to acquire.
Nah, we have newborn twins; we don’t have time or money. I gave Ellie my blessing to shop on the day after Christmas without the children. Ellie gave me the opportunity to nap after opening presents. I was up at 2 this morning after all.
* Slackers.
** Those four-hour stretches at night that I bragged about at first keep getting shorter.
posted by Matt at
10:09 PM
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