Title: This Thing About Christmas
Author: Andrea
Rating: Uh, PG, I guess.
Summary: Well, if the title wasn't hint enough … this is a companion piece to
This Thing About Birthdays. It's sort of a fast forward, I guess. In 'Birthdays,' it's still Carter's birthday … but here we've jumped ahead a few months to get to Baby Meg's first Christmas. Enjoy.Author's Note: Thanks, LISA. Glad everyone seems to be enjoying the Christmas stories. Thanks for all the reviews. Do it again, okay?
*~*~*~*
This Thing About Christmas
****
25 Days 'Til Christmas …
"So you wanna go get the tree today?" John asks me, his eyes all lit up with excitement.
"Today?" I ask, a bit flustered. I haven't even recovered from Thanksgiving yet. In fact, we've just barely seen Maggie and Eric off. I was looking forward to a day of doing absolutely nothing. Just Carter, Meg and I hanging out here at home.
"It's less than four weeks until Christmas, Ab."
"Yeah, and it's all of three days after Thanksgiving."
"Oh, c'mon … the relatives are gone, the dishes are done … we've even eaten all the leftovers."
"That doesn't mean that I'm not still exhausted."
"It's Meg's first Christmas."
"Yeah. And?"
"And … I can't wait to get it started. It's gonna be so much fun. You know how much kids love Christmas."
"John … she's six-months-old. She doesn't know what Christmas is."
"But she's gonna love it, Abby."
"She also loves having raspberries blown on her belly. It doesn't take much to make her happy."
"Okay, so we're gonna love it. Our first Christmas together as a family. Our first Christmas as parents. Christmas is so much better with kids around. And now we have one of our own."
"I'm not arguing with you on that one," I tell him. "I know it's gonna be great. But I don't understand why that means we have to go get a Christmas tree today."
"Because it's Sunday, and we're not doing anything else, anyway … so why not? It won't take long. And then we can come home and I'll pull out all our old decorations. We can get the lights and the tinsel on the tree. See if we have enough ornaments or if we need to get more. We'll put on Christmas carols and drink hot chocolate. We'll take pictures of Meg with her first Christmas tree. C'mon … you know you want to."
No, I don't really want to. But he does. And I can't stand saying no to him when he's bursting with excitement like this. I did say I wanted a quiet day at home with him and Meg. I guess if we happen to be decorating a Christmas tree, that'll be okay.
"All right," I agree. "When Meg gets up from her nap, we'll go get a tree. But don't get any weird ideas about driving hours out into the country to tramp through the snow and cut down our own tree. We're just going to a nice, close-by Christmas tree lot."
"Sure, fine. I'll just go find some rope and a blanket. It's gonna be great. You won't be sorry."
And so, two hours later, I'm holding a bundled up Meg on my hip, watching John inspect yet another tree.
"What do you think about this one?" He asks.
"Looks good to me," I tell him.
"You don't think it's a little small? Do you see any bare spots? It's a little smashed in right here, but it's not a very big spot … and probably once we get the lights on and everything, you won't even notice."
"I think it's perfect. Let's get this one." My fingers are cold. My toes are cold. My face is cold. Meg must be cold, too. Although she's pretty happy, laughing at her daddy's antics and amusing herself by trying to pull off her mittens. She has no idea what's going on, of course. But she seems to be enjoying being outside in the fresh, if cold, air.
"Wait! What about this one? I think this one's better. It's a little bigger. A little bit fuller. Maybe this is the one."
"Sure. Okay. That one's good, too."
"Abby." His disapproving voice.
"What?"
"You're just agreeing with whatever I say. I want your honest opinion."
"You want me to be honest?"
"Yes."
"Well … then … honestly? I think one tree is as good as another. You said it yourself … cover the thing in lights and ornaments and who's gonna notice some bald spot? I honestly like both of these trees … but let's just pick one so that we can go. We've been out here for a half an hour. Meg's getting cold. I'm getting cold. Please? Can we just pick one out and go home?"
"You're getting cold?"
"Well this isn't exactly the Bahamas. Yeah, we're a little cold," I say, shifting Meg onto my other hip. I smile at her as I adjust her hood, pulling it more snuggly around her face.
"Oh, sorry. I wasn't thinking. Okay … well … this one," he decides, choosing the bigger of the two Douglas firs. It really is a nice tree. A good shape, nice and full. "Is that okay?"
"Yep. I honestly think this tree will look great in the living room."
"Do you think we should get one for the front hall? Or the playroom upstairs? Or the study … since that window is in the front of the house? Maybe we should get them both."
"You're gonna tie two Christmas trees to the top of the car?" I ask, skeptically.
"Oh yeah … well, we can always come back, I guess."
"You can always come back. Or, you know, we can look into the wonder that is the artificial tree."
He makes a face at me, but goes to get the lot attendant to help him with the tree. I get the keys from John and head to car, turning the heater on full blast. Meg and I sit in the front seat, trying to get warm.
"Your daddy is so excited about your first Christmas, do you know that, pumpkin?" I ask Meg, who is sitting on my lap facing me, playing with my scarf. "We had to come get your very first Christmas tree today because he just couldn't wait. So you need to work on a really excited reaction for when we do the whole lighting ceremony thing, okay? Can you gasp?" I ask her, demonstrating my best exaggerated gasp. She just laughs at me, sticking my scarf in her mouth.
Meanwhile there's all kinds of activity going on outside the car. Within minutes, Carter appears at my window, gesturing that I should roll it down.
"We're done. We can go home now." He reaches in and takes Meg out of my arms, opening the door behind my seat so that he can fasten her into her carseat. He comes around and gets in the driver's seat, and we take off for home.
"Are you happy now?" I ask him a while later, once we've dragged the tree in the house, erected it in the living room, and untied it so that we can enjoy it in all it's glory.
"I will be," he says, "once we get it decorated."
"Do you think we have enough decorations for a tree this big?" I ask, surveying the small amount of boxes that John dragged out.
"What do you think, Meggie?" He asks, lifting her out of the playpen where she's been hanging out while we dealt with the tree. "That's some tree, huh? You've never seen a giant tree in the living room before, have you? Do you wanna get it all decorated? We're gonna put on lots of lights and shiny ornaments."
"All of which she'll try to eat. We should probably skip the tinsel this year," I suggest.
"Good idea. I don't really want to change diapers full of tinsel. Okay Meg, go see Mommy while Daddy gets these lights on the tree."
It doesn't take long until Daddy needs Mommy's help to get the lights on the tree. But luckily Meg and I uncovered a Santa's hat in one of the boxes of decorations, and she seems perfectly happy to lie on the floor playing with the hat and watching her bumbling parents. We walk into each other, we fall into the tree, we slip off the step stool, but we finally get the lights and the garland wound around the tree.
"Okay Meggers," I say, sitting down on the floor and settling the baby into my lap, "now comes the fun part. I guess."
"Try not to get too excited, Ab. This part is fun, you know."
And as it turns out, he's right. It's kinda fun pulling out our old ornaments. Some his, some hers, some ours. My favorite being the one with two snowmen --or rather, a snowman and a snow lady-- that says "Our First Christmas Together."
"Look," I say, holding it up for John to see. "Remember when we bought this?"
"How could I forget? It was the most expensive ornament I ever bought."
"Well, who told you to jump up and try to get it off the top branch? If you'd just asked the store clerk like I suggested, you probably wouldn't have knocked those three trees over."
"I think it was worth it. I mean, look how cute this is," he says, taking it from me and hanging it in a prominent place on the tree. "We're gonna have to get some special ornaments for Meg this year. Another 'our first Christmas together,' but this time with a baby included. And, of course, a 'baby's first Christmas.'"
"Of course," I say. "What do you think about all this, Meg? Seems kinda crazy, huh?"
"She seems to be enjoying the ornaments, though."
And that's true. She reaches out for all the shiny and sparkly ones, her little hand clenching and unclenching as she tries to grab them. Whenever a soft, unbreakable one catches her eye, we let her play with it. Her face lights up, and she smiles with her whole body -- wiggling excitedly -- whenever she gets lucky enough to have a new treasure to play with. She's currently chewing on a cloth star while her Daddy carries her around as he hangs other ornaments. Meggie watches closely as he hangs a red ball on a high branch, and then she takes the star from her mouth and holds it out toward the tree.
"You wanna hang that on the tree, sweetie?" Carter asks her, holding her out toward the tree. Of course, she can't quite hang up the ornament, but she does drop it on a branch, and I give her a hand, slipping the ribbon over the end of a nearby bough. And then her daddy and I cheer and clap for her accomplishment. She grins at us and tries to clap her hands as well.
"Good job, angel," I say to her, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
"Speaking of angels … where's the one for the top of the tree?"
"I don't know … I didn't see it in any of the boxes that I unpacked." Turning my gaze to Meg, I say, "I guess we'll just have to put Meggie on top of the tree, won't we angel?" She laughs and reaches out to me so I take her in my arms, giving her a hug.
"Well, it has to be around here somewhere," Carter says, talking about the angel. It's the last thing we need to complete the tree trimming. The rest of the ornaments are hanging on the tree … it looks a little bare, so I'm sure we'll end up adding some more, but once we get the angel on the top of the tree, we can have the official lighting ceremony.
"The boxes are all empty."
"Are you sure you didn't see it?"
"I'm sure," I tell him. "Maybe there's another box of decorations somewhere. Didn't we have a bunch of candles and some Christmas coffee mugs?" I ask, sitting down on the couch with Meg who has begun to pull at my shirt -- her not-so-subtle way of letting me know she wants to nurse.
"Oh, yeah. That's right. I must have missed it. Okay, I'll go look," he says, leaving the room.
"So how are you enjoying this whole Christmas thing, Meg?" I ask, looking down at her cradled in my arms, enjoying a nice late afternoon snack. She looks up at me intently, staring into my eyes like she usually does. I try to maintain as much as eye-contact as possible whenever we are nursing. When we're alone, I usually use the time to talk or sing or read to her. Today's monologue is all about Christmas, of course. I tell her all about the holiday and the fun things we'll do to get ready for it. "And what do you think Santa Claus is gonna bring you? Huh? What would you like for Christmas? How about some diapers? Yeah? And a case of baby applesauce? Does that sound good?" I'm going to take those gentle little pats on my back as a yes. "Well, you'll be easy to shop for."
"Abby," John says, coming back into the room, toting a box. "We're not just gonna buy her diapers and baby food for Christmas. That's no fun. We have to buy her toys."
"Uh-oh, that means that Daddy's seen some toy that he wants," I tell Meg. She's finished nursing so I sit her up on my lap and put myself back together. "Did you find the angel?"
"Yep, here it is. Found your candles and your mugs, too. Okay, you want to put the angel on top?" He asks, holding it out to me.
"No, that's okay. You go ahead. Meg and I will wait right here for you to light up the tree. Won't we, Meg?" I ask, patting her back. She babbles something back at me so I guess she's in agreement.
We watch as Carter struggles to get the angel on the top of tree. But he succeeds without too much trouble, and then turns off the lights in the room, preparing for the big tree lighting. It's not quite dark yet, but it's dark enough that the tree lights ought to be impressive.
John's rigged up the lights on some sort of extension cord with a remote control. So he comes over to the couch and cuddles up with Meg and I. "Okay, ladies … are you ready?"
"We're ready," I tell him. "Look, Meg. Look at the Christmas tree." I point in the right direction so that she'll be looking at the tree at the moment of truth.
"One …two …three … ta-da!" The lights flash on, lighting up the room in a multicolored glow.
"Yay!" I take Meg's hands in mine and clap with her. She lets out a delighted squeal. Even better than an awestruck gasp. I look back at John. "She likes it."
"See? I told you she would."
"You did a good job," I tell him.
"We did a good job."
"I'm glad we got the tree today."
"Me too."
"It's beautiful."
"Look at that, Meg," John says, lifting her out off my lap. "Your very first Christmas tree. And now it's official, your first Christmas has begun."
She laughs and smiles. Just like every other kid, she seems happy that Christmastime is here. And something tells me that this Christmas will different from any other Christmas I've ever know. After all, this is my first Christmas as a mommy. And I think that watching the holiday through Meg's eyes is going to make it very special. It's not just baby's first Christmas. It's Mommy and Daddy's first Christmas, too. I really am glad John talked me into bringing home the tree today. It's definitely time to get Meg's first Christmas underway. The sooner we start, the more there will be to enjoy. And I'm ready for a merry Christmas, complete with the kind of excitement that can only come from having a child to share it with. Thank you, Meg, for making Christmas special again. Somehow, I think this is gonna be the best one ever.
******
Two Weeks 'Til Christmas…
"Abby? All ready," John calls from downstairs.
"Daddy's ready for us, Meggers. He must have the camera all set up and ready to go." I take one last look in the mirror. Well, I guess I'll do.
Meg, on the other hand, who is happily lying on my bed kicking her feet, looks absolutely gorgeous. She's just had a bath and her red ringlets are framing her shining face. She's all dressed up in a red-plaid one piece outfit with a little red sweater over top of it. She even has shiny black patent-leather shoes on. It's the same outfit she wore a couple of weeks ago when I took her to have her official Christmas portrait taken. And now it's time to take some more pictures. Carter treated himself to an early Christmas present and is anxious to try out his new digital camera. He wants pictures of Meg in front of the tree. And if he can figure out the timer, he wants pictures of the three of us in front of the tree. If we get a good one, we'll use it for our Christmas card. I can't believe I'm going to harass people with family pictures at Christmas. But it seems like these things happen when you have an incredibly beautiful baby girl that you want to show off to everyone.
"Okay, we're here," I say, carrying Meg into the living room.
"You look nice." He sounds a little surprised.
"Yeah, I clean up real good." Who knew that putting on a nice sweater --one not covered in baby puke-- and little make-up would make such a difference?
"Will you ever learn to take a compliment?"
"Probably not. So should we start with Meg? She looks nice, too, doesn't she?"
"She looks adorable. I love this sweater. I can't believe Maggie made it."
"I know."
"She's really talented."
"Yeah." It's a pretty sweater, expertly knit. She even embroidered "Meg's First Christmas" in tiny green letters on the left side of sweater. "Grandma made you this sweater, Meggie. You know that? Yep, she made it just for you. Your 'Baby's First Christmas' bib, too. You're keeping Grandma busy. But it's good. She loves it."
While I've been prattling on to Meg, I've arranged her on the ottoman that John shoved in front of the tree. He's even thrown a green tablecloth over it in keeping with the Christmas theme.
"Okay, go ahead," he says to me.
"Go ahead and what?"
"Go ahead and make her smile."
"Me?"
"Yeah. I'm working the camera. It's your job to make her smile."
"Any suggestions?"
"I don't know … do what you usually do. She's always smiling at you. Make a silly face or something. Whatever it is that makes her happy."
"Oh, so I should take off my shirt?"
"No, that's what makes me happy."
"Oh, yeah." I turn to Meg who is just watching us, probably wondering what the hell is going on now. She had to get all dressed up just to watch Mommy and Daddy banter? "Hey, Meggie. Hi, baby! Smile for Daddy! Smile, sweetie! Smile, pumpkin!" Soon enough I'm jumping around, making faces and dancing … whatever I can think of to get Meg to smile or laugh while her daddy takes picture after picture.
"Let's try some with the hat," Carter suggests.
I grab the Santa hat and put it on Meg's head. John gets just a few pictures before Meg pulls it off her head and starts trying to eat it. I take it away and put it back on her head. This time she yanks it off right away. I put it back on. She yanks it off. We go through this routine until she finally gets frustrated and starts to cry. I give up and decide to let her chew on the hat. But by now she's had enough and just wants to be picked up.
"I said make her smile, not make her cry," John says.
"Hey, you were the one who wanted her in the hat," I say as I pick up a bawling Meg. "Did you get any good ones?"
"Yeah, a couple. Now let's try to get some of the three of us."
I look at the baby crying against my shoulder. "Yeah, she's really in a mood to smile."
"I'm sure you can fix that by the time I get the camera ready to go."
I try all the tricks that I have up my sleeve, but Meg seems determined to cry and fuss. I finally have to resort to that whole taking off my shirt thing -- or pulling it up, anyway. It's the one thing guaranteed to make Meg --and apparently her daddy, too-- happy no matter what. So by the time Carter finally gets the camera set up, Meg is happy, with a full belly, and hopefully, ready to smile for the camera again.
Naturally, the first few attempts at a family picture don't turn out so well. The first time, the camera cut off our heads. Once that problem was fixed we got a series of pictures with Carter's eyes closed, me making a face, or Meg with her whole fist shoved in her mouth. Finally, by some miracle, we get a good picture. All of us smiling in a nicely framed close-up.
"That's it. That's the one," John pronounces, after we've looked over all the pictures that he saved.
"You want to use the one of the three of us? But what about the ones of Meg? There's a really cute one of her in the hat. And a really cute one of her without the hat. Maybe we should put one of those on the cards."
"We could get some of each. Our parents might like one of the whole family, but Susan, for example, might like to just have a picture of Meg … after all, she sees us all the time."
"Yeah, but if we send her one of all of us, she can draw mustaches and ugly glasses on you and I."
"That's why she's just getting one of Meg. And that's exactly why we should get some of each."
"Well, we can think about it until I take them to the photo place tomorrow."
"Nah, let's go tonight."
"Tonight?"
"Sure. It's a Friday night. We're all dressed up. Let's go out. We'll go order the Christmas cards, get some dinner. Oh! We can take Meg to the toy store to see Santa."
"Isn't she kind of young to go see Santa?"
"You're never too young to see Santa. And with a couple weeks until Christmas … and it being a Friday evening … maybe we can go now and beat the crowds. Besides, we should take her when she's in her Christmas outfit. Get her picture with Santa."
"More pictures? She's gonna start crying at first the glimpse of a camera soon."
"It's just one picture. I'm sure she'll be fine. So what do you say? It is date night, after all."
"What do you think, Meg? You wanna go out on a date with Mommy and Daddy?" She gives us a big smile.
"Looks like a yes to me," Daddy says.
"Okay. Let's go out," I agree.
A few hours and one very good steak dinner later, the Carter family descends upon Marshall Field's in search of Santa Claus.
"Where do you think he is?" John asks, stopping abruptly and causing me to run Meg's strolled right into him. "Oww."
"Sorry."
"Your Mommy is a reckless driver," He tells Meg, looking down at her in the stroller. She grins up at him and tosses the teether she's been playing with onto the ground in all her excitement.
"You're the one who stopped with no warning," I point out, bending over to retrieve the lost toy.
"Yeah, but you should have been three stroller lengths behind."
I just roll my eyes at that, deciding it's better to not perpetuate this conversation. "So … Santa? Probably by the kids' stuff."
"What kids' stuff?"
"You know, the ridiculously-over-priced toy display that they will have built like a fortress around Santa."
"Oh, that kids' stuff. Yeah, I think it's up this way."
"I hope there's not a long line," I grumble, pushing Meg along, a good three stroller lengths behind her daddy.
Luckily enough, when we find Santa not only is there not a long line … there's no line at all. Apparently Friday night at 8 pm is not the preferred time to visit Santa Claus. Or maybe it's just too early in the season, and everyone else is waiting to rush to see Santa on Christmas Eve. But whatever the reason, we're able to wheel Meg right up to Santa's village and deliver her to the lap of a strange bearded man in a fat suit. I guess it's better than a stranger on a park bench in a trench coat, but still. John takes her out of the stroller, and we walk toward Santa in his throne.
"Ho, ho, ho," Santa says, but quietly, so as not to scare her. "Hello, little girl." He gives Meg a big smile. Her eyes get wide, but she doesn't look frightened, just curious. She looks at her Daddy and then at me.
"It's okay, pumpkin, that's Santa," Carter tells her. "Can you say 'hi' to Santa?" He picks up her arm and helps her to wave.
"And what's you name?" Santa asks, waving back.
"Meg," I tell him.
"Ho, ho, ho, Meg. Would you like to sit on Santa's lap?" John tries to hand her to Santa Claus, but she's not having it. Not yet, anyway. She whimpers a bit and grabs on to her daddy's shoulder, turning her head away from Santa and burying it in John's coat.
"That's okay, pumpkin," I tell her, "you don't have to sit on Santa's lap." She looks up and reaches out to me.
"Maybe Mommy should show her how it's done," Carter suggests under his breath, as I lean over toward Meg.
"Funny," I tell him, giving him the evil eye.
I take Meg in my arms and jiggle her a bit. I wave to Santa, and Santa waves back. Meg gives him a shy smile and then buries her head in my neck. But she keeps looking over at Santa, intrigued by the figure in the red suit. It seems that this Santa is pretty patient and willing to wait for Meg to make up her mind. Or maybe he's just bored since we are the only ones here. Meggie spends a few minutes watching Santa … smiling, ducking her head, wriggling against me. Finally, she decides that maybe she's willing to meet Santa Claus. I hand her over and, even though she looks at him a bit suspiciously, she seems willing to sit on his lap. I stay pretty close, but just out of camera range as an elf snaps a picture. It turns out pretty well. Meg's not grinning, but she's not crying either.
"Have you been a good girl this year, Meg?" Santa asks. I give Carter a look, but he's not paying any attention to me. He's laughing while watching Meg, in the tradition of every other kid, tug on Santa's beard.
"She's an absolute angel," I supply.
"Oh, well that's very good. So Santa will be very good to you this year. What would you like for Christmas?"
"Diapers," I say.
"Abby," John protests. I shrug. "Maybe … a doll?" Carter suggests.
"Or a teddy bear?" Asks Santa.
"Or a fire truck!" I say.
"A fire truck?" Carter asks.
"What? Girls can play with trucks."
"Of course they can. But don't you think she's a little young?"
"Well, that's why I suggested diapers in the first place."
He rolls his eyes at me. "We are not giving her diapers. It's her first Christmas. Even if she doesn't understand … we do. And I want to give her what every kid wants for Christmas. Toys. No kid writes to Santa to ask for diapers for Christmas."
"Well, I would hope any kid old enough to write to Santa wouldn't need to ask for diapers."
"Abby, I think you're missing the point … the point is …"
"No, I think you are missing the point. We can't even decide on what kind of toy to get her. So that's why … "
"Well, I'll tell you what, Meg," Santa says loudly, nipping the argument in the bud, "since you are such a good little girl, I think Santa can probably arrange to bring you a teddy bear, a doll and a fire truck … a special one just right for a little girl your size."
"Thank you," I say for Meg.
"You're welcome. Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas."
John reaches over to take Meg from Santa, who hands him the baby and a couple of candy canes.
"He doesn't really think she's going to eat those, does he?" I ask once we are walking away, Meg settled into her stroller once again.
"He gave me two … so I think they're probably for us. Hey, wanna go look at the ridiculously-over-priced toys?"
"Sure. Maybe we can pick up a couple things for Meg while we're at it."
"Abby!"
"What?"
"She's right here."
"Yeah … so?"
"We can't buy her Christmas gifts while she's with us."
"Carter … she doesn't know."
"Still … it's not right."
"Then why are we going to look at toys?"
"To get ideas. And because it's fun."
"Oh … well, if it's fun …"
"Abby, look. Ornaments," John says, steering the stroller in new direction. "We still haven't gotten that 'Baby's First Christmas' ornament."
We spend some time inspecting all the decorations on several large display trees. First we find that "Our First Christmas Together" ornament with a Papa Bear, a Mama Bear, and a Baby Bear. And then we finally agree on an ornament for Meg. Not surprisingly, it's an angel in a pink dress, darker pink letters spelling out "Baby's First Christmas," that we finally agree on. In her hands, the angel holds a little picture frame which we can fill with one of the pictures we took of Meg this evening.
"It's perfect," I say.
"An angel for our little angel."
"Yeah. But our little angel looks kinda tired … do you think we could put off checking out the toys and get her home?"
"Sure. But I think maybe you and I should do some serious Christmas shopping this weekend. Less than two weeks to go, you know."
"Don't remind me."
"Maybe Aunt Susan would like to watch Meg for a couple of hours tomorrow while we power shop."
"I'm sure she could be convinced."
"Great. We'll get all Meg's stuff and get it all wrapped and hidden away."
"Or we could just put it under the tree."
"Santa has to do that on Christmas Eve."
"Santa, huh?"
"Yep."
"You sure are making this a lot harder than it needs to be."
"But I promise you, Abby … it'll all be worth it. You'll see."
Yeah, I hope so. But looking down at Meg's sweet little face, I can't help but think that any amount of trouble would be worth it to give her the perfect first Christmas.
******
Christmas Day
"So … was it worth it?" John asks.
"What?"
"All the work," he says, tucking a stray lock of my hair behind my ear. "I know it wasn't easy … making this the perfect Christmas."
"It's not over yet," I remind him.
It's only the middle of Christmas morning, in fact. We're sitting on the floor under the tree with Meg in between us. She's happily eating some wrapping paper and ignoring most of her gifts. Pretty much what we expected. We knew that some of the gifts we bought her would be a little beyond her right now. Like the beautiful hand-carved rocking horse. We've already sat her on it and taken her picture, of course, but it'll be several months until she's really ready to use it. But it seemed like such a perfect Christmas gift that when we saw in the store, we just couldn't resist. And it won't be long until she's climbing all over it, I'm sure. Most of her other gifts are more practical -- chunky board books, soft rattles and teethers, clothing … and of course, the teddy bear, doll, and fire truck, all made especially for infants. We also got her several interactive, educational toys meant to stimulate and engage her. Translation: loud toys that require several batteries. She doesn't seem terribly interested now, but I think, at the moment, she might be on sensory overload.
Not being old enough to be anxiously awaiting Santa's arrival, Meg's routine didn't vary much last night. We read her 'Twas The Night Before Christmas by the Christmas tree and put out the cookies and milk for Dadd- uh, Santa. And then she went to bed as usual, waking us up this morning at the normal time. But that doesn't mean that I didn't have an anxious kid to deal with. I was the one to get Meg from her crib, bringing her back to our bed where she typically enjoys her early morning feeding. But while Meg and I were trying to have a nice, relaxing bonding experience, Daddy was practically bouncing up and down on the bed . It's a little distracting for both of us when we are trying to nurse, and someone keeps staring at us wanting to know how much longer. I finally had to claim to be starving and send him downstairs to make breakfast so that Meg and I could finish our first feeding of morning -- something that we both love and have come to count on to start the day off right. It didn't take long until Meg and I were downstairs, and we somehow managed to get through our Christmas pancakes (or rice cereal for some of us) without too much trouble. But the minute the last bite was in my mouth, John jumped up from the table, took Meg from her high chair, grabbed my hand and led us to the great mound of gifts heaped up under the tree.
Meg, of course, didn't really know what to make of all the brightly colored packages. There had been a few under the tree for a couple of weeks, which she took a passing interest in, but this explosion of gifts was something else. The rocking horse wasn't wrapped, just decorated with a bow so we ended up starting there. It made for a very adorable picture with her on the horse in front of the tree, all the other wrapped gifts at her feet. And once she figured out that the bow would come off, she had a good time crinkling it up and shoving it in her mouth. And once she got the hang of ripping the wrapping paper off the other gifts, with a little help from Mommy and Daddy, she seemed to enjoy that quite a bit as well.
So now here we are, surrounded by a sea of red and green paper. Meg sits in the middle of the mess, a golden bow stuck to the top of her head. She's babbling and gurgling and waving her arms up and down. I look at her and smile. There is nothing quite like sharing Christmas with your child. And this was the first time I was lucky enough to have that experience. Truly remarkable. I loved watching her eyes light up with each new discovery and hearing her laugh at her daddy and I and all our silly antics as we tried out her new toys or exclaimed over our own gifts. I can't remember a Christmas that was more fun.
"Yeah," I finally say to John, "it was worth it."
"Good, I'm glad you think so."
"Her first Christmas," I say, surprised to find myself a bit teary.
"Yeah, can you believe it?"
"No, not really. I can't believe how fast it's going. 7 months old."
"Today," He points out.
"Yeah, that's right. How did that happen?"
"Well, they say time flies when you're having fun."
"That makes sense, I guess. I have been having the time of my life."
"With Christmas?"
"No. With Meg." I scoop her up into my arms and give her a hug. The past seven months since she's been born have undoubtedly been the best months of my life. Any day with her is wonderful, but sharing the holidays with her is even more special. "I love you, baby," I tell her now, holding her close to me and kissing her head. She wraps her little arms around my neck, a new trick she's recently learned. If you pick her up and give her a hug, she'll hug you back as best she can. "I hope you're having a good first Christmas." Now there's an actual lump in my throat.
"Aww, Meg, Mommy's gonna cry. Look what you've done to her, Meggie. You've turned your mother into an old softy. She never used to cry. And then you came along."
"I've haven't been that bad since she's been born. Well, maybe right after she was born, but once the hormones calmed down … it was mostly when I was pregnant that I was prone to random unexplained bouts of crying."
He gives me a funny look, the ends of his mouth curling up a bit into a sly smile. "Well, hey. Maybe …"
"No," I tell him firmly, before that thought really has a chance to crystallize, "I'm not pregnant."
"Would you like to be? Because I'd be willing to consider a last minute Christmas gift."
"But you already gave me these nice pot holders," I say, waving around the gift nearest to me, heat-resistant mitts shaped like tropical fish.
"Well, I could take those back."
"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks. Not this year."
"Maybe next year?"
"I'll think about it."
"I was just trying to help … since you seemed a little bummed about our baby growing up so fast," he says, reaching over to ruffle Meg's curls.
"It's just the holidays … you know … how they're all sentimental and crap."
He takes her out of my arms gently, turning her to face me, and standing her up on his legs. He hides his face behind her back and makes Meg 'speak.' "Don't cry, Mommy. I'm having a good Christmas. I like Christmas. Christmas is fun. Yay!" Naturally, he throws lots of exaggerated arms movements into the mix, using Meg as his own puppet and ending 'her' monologue with her little arms thrown in the air to show her excitement.
I just shake my head at him, but Meg smiles at me, showing off her brand-new two bottom front teeth. She laughs at all her Daddy's antics, finding him to be hilarious at all times. Of course, since he craves such a devoted audience, and Meg loves the entertainment, it all works out fabulously well. At the moment, Meg's sitting on the floor laughing as he's throwing a soft, cloth, multicolored ball at his own head and pretending to be terrible hurt. Every time he falls over, Meg squeals a little louder. When the ball bounces off his head and lands in my lap, I pick it up and throw it back at him, hitting him in the forehead and causing him to 'fall' over backwards as the ball rolls across the floor. Meg laughs again, but watches the ball rolling away.
She puts her little hands down on the floor in front of her and stretches out on her belly, reaching out for the ball which is way beyond her grasp. I think she's going to cry, but she has other ideas. As I watch on in amazement, she pushes herself up onto all fours and then suddenly, she starts crawling.
"John! John, look!" I call excitedly, smacking his leg to get his attention.
"Wha -- oh, my God. She's crawling," he says, watching Meg's slow progress toward her prize. "When did that happen?" He asks, I assume referring to when Meg figured out this whole crawling thing.
"I don't know," I tell him. For weeks we've been watching her get close … pushing up onto all fours and rocking back and forth slightly. We've even showed her how to move her arms and legs, but to no avail. I'm not quite sure why we wanted to teach her to crawl -- God knows it'll be more work for us, but I guess it's natural for parents to want to encourage their child's development. And now, I guess I know why. It's amazing watching her learn something new. She's suddenly just put it all together for herself, and now she can do it. My baby is suddenly mobile. A little more independent. A little less of a baby.
This time I don't even bother to try to stop the tears. Meg is crawling. It's wonderful and awful all at the same time.
"Oh, Abby, what's wrong?" John asks, seeing the tears. "She learned to crawl. She figured it out. Aren't you proud of her?"
"Of course," I sniffle. "It's just … like we were saying before: it's all going by so fast. Too fast. Look at her … she can move around all by herself now. She's not my little baby anymore."
"She's still your baby, Abby. She just has a new skill now, that's all. And look at that grin on her face … she's proud of herself. She knows she did good. Don't you, Meg?" He asks her. She's gotten to the ball and flopped down on her belly once again. "You're crawling. Yes, you are. Can you do it again? C'mere, Meg. C'mon, Meggie." He claps his hands against his knees as if he was calling a dog and not his daughter.
But sure enough, it seems to work. Meg looks at us with a big smile and struggles back up to her hands and knees, then starts back across the living room toward us.
"Yay, Meg!" We cheer, clapping for her as she works her way closer to us. She doesn't quite have all the movements coordinated just yet, and she stumbles a couple times, falling onto her belly and having to start again. But she does it. She gets to us. And even though her daddy is a couple feet closer, she crawls the extra length to get to me. She lays down in front of me, resting her little head on my leg. Carter looks a bit indignant at first that she passed him up, but after a moment, he smiles at me.
"See? She's still your baby."
"Yeah." It makes me feel good that she crawled to me, rather than away from me. I rub her back lightly and she cranes her neck to look up at me. "That was hard work, huh? You did such a good job." I pick her up and hug her again, and she lays her head on my shoulder.
"I think she wore herself out," John says, reaching over to rub her back.
"It's been a long morning. Fun, but long. For all of us."
"Sounds like Meg's not the only one who needs a nap. Maybe Mommy needs one, too."
"Don't tempt me. Ugh, I am so glad we had the grandparents at Thanksgiving."
"Yeah, it's nice having a quiet Christmas, just the three of us."
"At least for her first Christmas. I figured it would be overwhelming enough for her … we didn't need the same mad house we had last month. Did we, Meggie? That was kinda crazy, huh?" I say to the little figure still resting against my shoulder. She turns her head towards me and gives me a smile. "But we'll call them all later today, won't we? Tell them all about your Christmas gifts … tell them all about the gift you gave us." Carter gives me a confused look. "The crawling?" He nods in understanding.
"And you'll get to see Grandma Maggie and Uncle Eric tomorrow.." Her daddy tells her. I'm sure Meg would be thrilled if she understood what he was saying -- she really loves Grandma and Uncle Eric.
"Yep, we get to do this all over again. Yay," I say with sarcasm. Not that I don't want to see my family. But an eight-hour car ride with a seven-month-old isn't top on my list of relaxing activities for the days immediately following Christmas. Still, I want Meg to know her family … and I want them to know her. And Christmas is for families. So tomorrow we'll get in the car and head to Minneapolis for a second Christmas celebration.
"And then we'll get to do it again when my dad comes to town next week. And then again when my mom comes to visit after New Year's."
"It's all a bit too much," I say, thinking about all the running around we've done in the past month … all the celebrations still to come in the next week.
"Too much what? Family?"
"Too much Christmas."
"Well, look on the bright side, Ab. At least when today is over, Meg's first Christmas really won't be. Because it's just gonna go on and on. And by the time it's finally done for good, it won't be so hard to see it end."
"That's true."
"And it's been fun so far, right?"
"Yeah. This is definitely the best Christmas I've ever had. Thanks to Meg. Thanks to you."
"I feel the same way. I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas. And just think, there's still more to come," he reminds me.
"I know."
"I just hope Meg is enjoying her first Christmas as much as we are."
"What's that, Meg?" I ask as she nuzzles her head against my neck, babbling something unintelligible. "Meg says she is definitely enjoying Christmas. She says she especially likes her new fire truck."
"No, I think she especially likes her dolly. And all the stuff for her dolly." Not only did Meg get some sort of baby's first doll, but she got the stroller and crib and whatever other dolly accessories were available.
"I still can't believe you got all that stuff. She won't know what to do with the doll, much less all the stuff. If you haven't noticed, she's still a baby herself."
"Hey, take it up with Santa Claus. He's the one who brought all this stuff."
"Santa Claus … you. Same difference."
"Abby! I know the resemblance is uncanny, but I'm not Santa Claus." He nods his head in Meg's direction. "Santa is the one who put out all these toys last night."
"Oh. Hmm. So I guess it was Santa that I was making out with under the tree last night then, huh?"
"Too bad Meg missed it. Now she can't sing I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus."
"Well, if you put that hat back on, we can recreate it for her."
"Do I really need the hat?" He asks.
"Nah."
He leans in to kiss me. Soft and sweet and slightly awkward since there is a cooing baby in our arms. Our soft little kiss for two turns into both of us kissing and tickling Meg, making her laugh hysterically. Soon John is tickling me, and I'm tickling him. Somehow we end up in a heap on the floor on top of the wrapping paper and several gifts. Carter is flat on his back, holding the baby who is lying on his chest. I curl up against his side, and he wraps his other arm around me. He kisses the top of my head, and I rest my chin on his chest, face-to-face with the reason that this Christmas is like no other. And better than I ever could have imagined Christmas could be.
"Merry Christmas, Meg," I say, taking her little hand.
"Merry Christmas, Mommy," John answers for her.
"Merry Christmas, Daddy."
"Yeah it is. It really is."
At last, truly a merry Christmas. Full of laughter and good cheer. With my family. The biggest Christmas wish I ever had -- just to be a part of a happy family -- has finally come true. As long as I have John and Meg with me, I'm sure that every year we'll have ourselves a merry little Christmas. And if every Christmas is going to be as wonderful as this one, I know I can't wait to celebrate all the rest.