Twas the Night After Christmas

December 26, the night after Christmas, and I'm sitting in Bongo Java, feeling a little low that after so much anticipation, another Christmas has come and gone.  I'm comforted slightly by the fact that the Christmas decorations are still up, complete with random stockings decorated and hung by each of the employees.  I'm made more cheerful by the fact I'm staring at a one of our Christmas cards above the fireplace at Bongo Java - a 5 x 7 photograph of J.P. in our front yard, grinning, the autumn leaves piled up in the background.  He and I dropped the card off on Christmas Eve.  It's nice to see it again, one more time, before the holiday season ends and we march off into the doldrums of winter.

This was a banner Christmas season in our household, mostly because J.P. is the perfect age for Santa Claus.  His innocence is so beautiful it's almost painful, like gazing into a cloudless sky so blue it hurts your eyes.  He sat in Santa's lap not once but twice, first at the Green Hills Mall, then later at a children's event we attended at the Schermerhorn, home of the Nashville Symphony.  Whenever J.P. was asked what he wanted Santa Claus to bring him for Christmas, the first and second things out of his mouth were a backpack and an ice scraper.  Something tells me he's not going to be so easy to please forever.

Christmas Eve, we went to church with Jude's grandmother and family at St. Henry's.  It's a massive church, so unlike St. Patrick, where we attend.  The 6 p.m. service was packed.  As was the case last year, Father Mike made quite an impression on J.P.  Jude and I laughed from our aisle seat as J.P. waved at Father Mike walking past us as the service began.  Later, when we were kneeling, Jude elbowed me and pointed down, where J.P. was on his knees with his hands clasped in prayer.  Jude and I silently exchanged a proud look, sharing the moment.

After dinner at Jude's grandmother's house, we drove home and J.P. chattered away in the back seat.  He didn't get to bed until after 10 p.m., probably the latest he has ever been awake.  Before he went to bed, of course, he and Jude set out some "reindeer cupcakes" for Santa Claus and some pasta for the reindeer.    Then, the fun began as Santa went to work assembling a two-sided easel for J.P.  I was dismayed when I opened the box and emptied out several packages of screws and loose pieces of wood.  Fortunately, Jude came to the rescue and with my not so able assistance, we had the easel up and ready to go in 45 minutes or so.  I didn't get to bed until after 2 a.m.

Christmas morning, slightly past 6 a.m., J.P. woke up and climbed into bed with us, so excited he could barely contain himself.  I went downstairs first, got the video camera ready, then Jude and J.P. followed me into the living room.  He was amazed and literally beamed with happiness, as he examined everything Santa Claus had left for him in front of our fireplace.  Curiously, he did ask me (again, just like last year), to close the fireplace screen, presumably in case Santa decided to return to our house.  That made Jude and me laugh.

Jude's parents and her brother, James, and sister-in-law, Megan, had brunch at our house later Christmas morning.  We exchanged gifts and, as always, Jane and Jimdad were generous to us.  Between my mother and Jude's parents, J.P. is blessed to have such loving grandparents.  Later that afternoon, I went for a quick Christmas Day run, while Jude, and J.P. napped.  Next, it was off to my mother's house to eat again and celebrate Christmas with my family.

J.P. was especially pleased with his easel and his authentic hockey gloves and stick (he's a huge Pekke Rinne fan).  The hit of the holiday, though, was the "Cars" walkie talkie set James and Megan gave him.  He didn't want to put it down.  In fact, we  had to pry it out of his hands when we left for my mother's house Saturday afternoon.  When we arrived back home, J.P. went upstairs, where he kept up a running conversation with Jude - via walkie talkie (or "talkie talkie," as he said) - on the progress of the grilled cheese sandwich she was cooking for his dinner.

This morning, he climbed into our bed - with the walkie talkies - about 6:30 a.m. and, despite my best efforts to pretend like I was asleep, insisted that I take one of the walkie talkies and go downstairs to get his morning milk, talking to him the entire time.  I was dead tired, but I was also blissfully happy as I trudged down, then back up the stairs.

It's a bit strange and a bit sad, somehow, to think that this will be the last Christmas Jude, J.P. and I will share alone.  Next year, three will be four, and I can't help but wonder how J.P. will adjust to not being the sole focus of our attention, as well as our family's.  I think (and hope) it will be good for him.  I can't help but feel that way, as I think about him snuggled next to Jude in her chair in our den this evening, talking directly to her stomach and telling his brother he can't wait to meet him.

It's all good.