It did not feel like Christmas. Everything and everyone just felt off. I went through the motions as best I could. We did most of the things we usually do. It hasn't been a bad month, and really bahumbug doesn't describe my feelings. I wasn't hating or dreading Christmas. I was waiting to feel Christmas. I can't put my finger on it. Just everything felt different.
We didn't put up lights outside, but neither did our neighbors in our cul-de-sac.
I didn't finish hanging wreaths.
I didn't bake.
I wasn't very excited about what we bought for the kids, and when I wrapped it, I was worried they wouldn't think it was enough.
I couldn't figure out what to do for Luke. I can usually come up with something to get excited about. I never did.
I was terrible at helping our elf write back to Bailee, and at remembering to help her work her magic.
I didn't play Christmas music when the kids weren't home.
It just felt off. And so many people I talked to and observed seemed to be feeling similarly.
Despite feeling off, we did do a lot of great things. We enjoyed each other and the season.
We went to Bailee's Christmas concerts.
We watched our favorite Christmas movies. Including the beloved Bulkley family interviews.
We watched past years interviews and recorded this years.
We had snow!
We made reindeer food and left Santa cookies.
We made gingerbread houses, twice!
We saw Santa. We wrote letters to Sanra and mailed them at Macy's.
We crafted neighbor gifts and delivered (most of) them.
We read Christmas books and counted the days.
We read about our Savior and talked about his birth, his life, and his gift of the atonement.
My kids were excited, and I must have pretended good enough for them. I enjoyed watching their anticipation grow. I loved hearing them talk and play together, especially over the past few days. I envied them, really. I usually feel that giddy excitement and building anticipation. It just wasn't there this year.
When Luke and I got everything ready on Christmas Eve, I lacked my usual enthusiasm. Santa usually takes their gift out of the packages and installs the batteries. He makes sure everything is ready to be played with, and sets it up just so. This year, I just wanted to get to bed. I knew the kids would love it. I knew it was enough.
Maddox came in and crawled in bed with us around 2. He usually does. He wants to snuggle mommy. He asked if Santa had come yet. He said he hoped Santa brought him what he wanted. He fell asleep and Luke and I talked about our childhood Christmas memories, and the memories we've made in the last nine years. That helped a little.
My favorite Christmas was when I was six. I was in first grade. It was a simple year, but most were. I'm not sure why it stands out over all the other years. I remember so many details of that day. But when I think of my childhood Christmases, that's the first memory.
The second was my least favorite Christmas. I was in eighth or ninth grade. We came home one evening before Christmas and someone had delivered a truckload of gifts. Our doors were always unlocked. They piled gifts around and under the tree. There were so many. It was overwhelming. I thought it was ridiculous. My littlest sisters thought it was wonderful. It was magic to them. I knew I should feel grateful. I didn't. The thought was nice. I could appreciate that. But I loved our simple Christmases. They were special to me. This wasn't what Christmas was about. Because we lived in such a small town, I knew it was someone who'd see us using those gifts. I can imagine them at school watching to see our reactions. I don't remember feeling embarrassed about it. I even had a guess at which family had given to us. I just felt like it was too much and that there were other families who could have used it. I felt bad for not being grateful. I still feel that way, though it serves as a reminder that a huge pile of gifts is not how I wish to celebrate.
On Monday the kids were dying to put the gifts under the tree. They were all wrapped and stacked in a single laundry basket in my room. Three gifts for each of them from mom and dad, the one they picked out for each other, four small family gifts, and the gifts Grandma Bulkley sent from the Marshal Islands. I was waiting to hear 'that's it?' I didn't. They excitedly put them under the tree and speculated about which were theirs. (I don't put their names on the package. I wrap each kids in a different paper.)
Even though Luke and I decided to keep it simple, and really stuck to our 4 gift rule, I worried about what the kids would think. I was dreading how quickly opening presents would be, and the inevitable 'that's it?' remarks.
So we waited for the kids to wake up Christmas morning. Usually I go get them up around 7. About 8:15, we hear Maddox yell 'It's Christmas morning! Wake up! Wake up!' They were so excited! It made me feel excited.
Their reaction to what Santa brought was better than I could have imagined. They took their time enjoying that gift and then ooohing and awing over each trinket in their stocking. We let them take their time. There was no rushing. Luke passed out the gifts and they took turns opening them. I smiled at their reaction and gratitude. Maddox is very loud and Bailee is very quiet. Even on Christmas morning.
They both exclaimed that this was the best Christmas ever.
Luke surprised me with the very thing I'd asked for. A new camera. He also picked out a book and included an iTunes gift card. He is so thoughtful. Even though I was disappointed with the gifts I got for him, he was grateful.
After breakfast and playing, we headed to Morgan and Jilyan's for dinner and hanging out. It was a pleasant afternoon with good food and great company.
I fell asleep last night with Christmas in my heart. Finally. It still feels different. Something was different. Different is good.
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