The wild madness of Christmas

 

Presents galore between the branches of The Beast, our beloved Christmas tree.

The in-between time

Squeals of childish laughter no longer echo through the halls of Gunnels Manse on this Christmas Day evening. Marice and I are in the in-between time – our children grown up and moved out and no grandchildren yet to take their noisy, messy place.

Photos of friends enjoying Christmas with their children fill Facebook, and it makes me a little melancholy for the days when my kids were small and the lights of Christmas filled their eyes and swelled their hearts with joy. I miss the scattered toys, half-eaten Christmas cookies and shredded wrapping paper in every corner.

God help me, but I even miss the desperate, last-minute assembly of toys in a drafty garage on Christmas Eve. It was a dreaded task that couldn’t begin until after midnight because Rachel and Ethan had to be in bed and pretending to be asleep in order to guarantee the arrival of Santa Claus on time and loaded with loot.

I remember in particular the frigid Christmas Eve I assembled a Barbie Dream House – all 12 million pieces of it – in 30-degree weather while seated on an ice-cold concrete floor.

 As I gradually lost feeling in my frostbitten extremities, I started hallucinating that my night-owl daughter, investigating the wild swearing that had awakened her, had interrupted my labors and discovered – horror of horrors – the true identity of Santa Claus. Even now, I get a little sweaty just thinking about it.

Luckily, Rachel remained asleep that night, one hopes with visions of sugar plums dancing in her head. And Barbie’s Dream House? It was a monster hit. We discovered stray pieces of that toy from hell in nooks and crannies of Gunnels Manse for years afterward

Those days are gone, but not forgotten. The house at the top of Mad Bird Hill is quiet today, the stillness of a chilly Christmas night broken only by the occasional barking of our Westie in her eternal vigilance against invaders of hallowed Gunnels ground.

If you have kids – or grandkids – young enough to be mystified, captivated and rendered mad by the magic of Christmas, I hope you realize how blessed you are. Embrace the chaos, glory in the wild happiness of it all and remember every single second.

Ask me – if I had it to do all over again, would I do it? Oh, hell, yes!