Christmas et al.

Oh, hello there. Yes, yes it has been 2 months since we last chatted. Here's what's been going on.

November: NaNoWriMo Failure. Yes, National Novel Writing Month went swimmingly, and I didn't miss a single Wednesday night pep talk writerly meeting at ye olde church to keep me on track! But alas. I stalled at 38,000 words (instead of the requisite 50,000 to "win"). I ran out of time. Work was busy, the school schedule was awful, the effing ELECTION was distracting, and we traveled to Seattle for a week.

Which brings us to Exhibit A. Seattle! The whole family! For Thanksgiving!

We took a (direct) evening flight--heading west!--which worked out beautifully. Because they SLEPT.

My folks came from South Dakota and we ALL descended on my brother's house.

The girls finally got to meet their baby cousin, James. Here's Nana with all 3 of her grandkids IN ONE SPOT for the very first time. James appears unaware of the importance of this moment. Because, BREAKFAST.

Charlotte wasted no time reading books to James. He was actually quite enthralled.

I cannot begin to tell you how much my girls love this little boy.

We were also able to see the Kirkland Hofmanns and Chris even ran a Turkey Trot race with our nieces. Charlotte and Lorelei adored being able to see their big cousins. They absolutely idolize their cousins. In our house, hand-me-downs are extra special because Kylie and/or Maggie wore them first.

Then we went back home to Maryland, cut down a Christmas tree, and decked the Hofmann halls. We launched the season with the town lighting, a magically festive night in our wee town. It was cold. So cold. But magical!

Soooo goofy and excited for the town lighting.

Santa visited during the church Christmas party---oh, the girls' glee.

In her Christmas dress  . . . and my goodness, look at her! So Charlotte.

Lorelei's Ballet I class had their winter recital--they did the CUTEST little ice skating dance. And yes, my kid is the one without the headpiece. Don't even ask.

 And because it was the BIGGEST TIME SUCK of the season, Charlotte dancing in The Christmas Carol gets its own actual paragraphs. This annual production is a brilliant full-length original ballet (to the music of Debussy, for those who care) and apparently it was a big coup that a theater was secured for a Christmas show during December (last year it was during Thanksgiving weekend--vastly preferably for holiday schedules, But apparently getting a theater in December is a Big Deal, so here there we were).

Last year Charlotte was a Gingerbread Cookie; this year she was a French Bon Bon. And I was a bit of a feet-dragging backstage mom. Every Saturday involved long rehearsals with a squirrely (but fantastic) group of 6- and 7-year-olds. I was backstage for the matinee, along with a gaggle of great moms, and oh, the kids danced so well. I totally cried. I mean, I always cry backstage, but still. You'd think I'd emotionally have the hang of it by now.

We were in the audience for the evening performance (with Lorelei, who has done her best to memorize the Gingerbread Cookie dance, her role next year---she MAY have tagged along to a couple rehearsals) and the French Bon Bons danced their best yet. Oh, I was so proud.

My little French Bon Bon.

Backstage, about to begin their dance during the Fezziwig party scene.

We went to a late dinner after the show and came across this entrancing tree. Note that Lorelei refused to wear her Christmas dress to Charlotte's show and instead donned her red cowgirl boots.

Charlotte was the Virgin Mary for the church Christmas pageant. I asked her if she was with child and she exclaimed, "No! Why would I go and do THAT?" Exactly, my dear.

It was just the four of us for Christmas, which was quiet and glorious and almost didn't happen. A social media effing disaster for Chris's work took up all of Christmas Eve day. I mean, it was bad and a long story and, thankfully because it's the internet, pretty much all over now. By 5:00 p.m., I was a tense mess. This saga had been going on for hours and hours. But see, growing up, for both Chris's family and mine, Christmas Eve was THE MOST SACRED day of the year. Rituals abound, everything is steeped in tradition. Everything is its prettiest and its best.

So, you know. WTF?

Chris made me a strong cocktail (in a crystal cocktail glass) and assured me that the crisis was over, at least for now. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. During the day, the girls and I made our beloved rolls, and Chris got cracking on the mushroom soup. (We do soup and bread on Christmas Eve.) My table was set and gorgeous. The girls were in their Christmas dresses, I was dressed up, Chris was dressed up. The house was tidy. We did FaceTime with Baby James, and then we did FaceTime with Chris's parents. Lorelei performed an interpretive dance for her grandparents' amusement.

Then we sat down to my beautiful table and held hands. The candlelight made my girls' faces glow even more. They behaved, stunningly, like ladies and nary a drop of soup spilled on their dresses (and Lorelei was wearing winter white!). They giggled. I got choked up. Chris and I traded many cheesy but contented grins across the table. Yes, I know. I know. Christmas Eve doesn't depend on china and crystal and tablescapes and perfectly browned rolls or exceptional soup. But I'm rather formal on special occasions, and formal dinners are a dying art, I think.

Before heading to church.

The girls were so giddy, just totally caught up in the specialness of the night. It's amazing that a dinner of soup and bread (oh, and wine) can be so  . . . wonderful. Then off to church we went. As I walked through the historic doors of our little Civil War era church, lit with wall lanterns, the pastor intercepted me. Apparently, we had a bit of miscommunication (I'm elder of worship and the arts) and we didn't have readers or a candle lighter.

I was mortified.

"It's totally fine," he said. Every year, it's 50/50 whether we line 'em up. Anyhoo, how about you light the advent candles?"

"All of them? All five?"

"Yes. Make fire!"

"Okay."

We sat in the second row, which, to be honest, is closer than our usual pew. The girls were squirrely and I was worried about the lighter actually catching in front of a packed church. After all, I provided the lighter. I knew how fussy it was.

"The lighter isn't going to light," I whispered to Chris as the organ played various preludes and the pastor secured some readers.

"Yeah. It might not," Chris agreed.

This was not helpful.

At one point, Charlotte accidentally knocked into good woman sitting next to us with her family.

"Sorry about that," Chris told her.

The woman smiled serenely. "Don't apologize one bit," she said. And at one point in the service, she placed her hand lovingly on Charlotte's back. Our church is like home.

When I had to light the five candles, the lighter actually worked.

After the service, the congregation--carrying candles--filed out. Making a big circle, we sang "Joy to the World," and my girls' faces glowing in candlelight and music and happy was . . . memorable.

We came home and opened gifts. We go youngest to oldest, each individual gift by gift. It takes a while. But Chris and I (oh, we're such snobs) don't believe in the Christmas morning gift frenzy. "This is much more civilized," he says, sipping his wine. (Okay, there MIGHT be a bit of a frenzy for the Santa gifts on Christmas morning.)

Charlotte opening a new dress for her American Girl doll.

We put out the requisite cookies and milk for the big guy and the girls conked out.

On Christmas morning, I woke up in Charlotte's bed (she'd had a nightmare) and Lorelei woke up in my spot next to Chris (she'd had a potty accident in the night). So, once we converged, it was time to see whether Santa had come. See the video of the girls coming downstairs here:
https://youtu.be/lhmZshSkucc

A lovely Christmas. I have the week between Christmas and New Year's off, so I'm staying home with Charlotte, being a mom, getting caught up on household stuff, organizing dressers and Tupperware cabinets, hounding the girls to write their thank you notes, and so on.

The cleaners came yesterday and I feel like a think layer of grime from all of the in-house hoopla has been removed. Yipee! I do love sparkling clean. But I don't want to take down the Christmas decorations quite yet. I just can't make myself. They're so pretty! And who does it hurt to keep them up a bit longer?