We figured (and rightly so) that the kids would all be up bright and early this morning, seeing as how it’s Christmas and they all still (or at least they claim, that is) to believe in Santa). So Richard and I got up at 6am, and made it to my parents’ house by 7. My older sister and her family came a bit later, just about at the point where we were all thinking we might just have to start breakfast without them (and that’s a pretty big thing, since Christmas breakfast is always homemade cinnamon rolls) but they arrived in the nick of time, yawning, and bleary from not enough sleep. We’d at least had the foresight to make coffee at home this morning, so Richard and I had already gulped down one cup each on the drive from Sacramento, which was good since my dad’s little coffee pot doesn’t make a lot of coffee at one go, and for some bizarre reason, my dad drinks mainly decaf (even in the morning!) and that was all that was available when we arrived (at least until my little sister came out and took care of the situation).
Once everyone had arrived, we all crowded into the family room and opened our stockings. The kids all got excited to see that Santa had eaten the cookies and drunk the milk they left out for him (and if any of them noticed that Santa’s handwriting looks suspiciously like their grandfather’s, they were smart enough not to say). Once more coffee had been made (and promptly consumed), the whole family moved into the dining room, there to inhale great quantities of cinnamon rolls. It used to be that there would be enough leftover after breakfast for us to have the next day, but those days are apparently long gone (either that, or whoever’s hosting Christmas needs to start making a whole lot more rolls – heh), because there were only a few left, and those were slowly nibbled away as the day progressed.
After breakfast, it was time to tackle the pile of presents under the tree, with lots of crinkling of paper and oohs and aahs and excited thank you’s ringing around the room. Richard and I got all the kids books, since all three of the niece/nephews have become voracious readers. My older sister made all the kids and all the women a Snuggy, which was a lot of fun, because as creepy as the Snuggy commercial might be, the concept is actually really a nice one, and by making them herself, she could pick patterns that matched everyone’s personality (mine, of course, is covered in cute little cats). She didn’t make any for the guys, since she hadn’t been sure if they’d want them, but if the little noises all the guys made after we all opened ours were anything to go by, I think there’s a pile of more manly-patterned Snuggy sewing in her future.
The afternoon’s been fairly low key. Some of us curled up wherever we could find a corner and took naps (or tried to at least, kind of hard to do in a house full of people), since Christmas started awfully early this morning! Everyone where you looked there was usually at least one or two people camped out in a chair or on the sofa, lost inside a book. Later, after lunch, we all went outside and the kids set off goofy little balloon helicopters that had been in their stockings. That turned out kind of exciting, mainly because apparently the resident hummingbirds who have ‘claimed’ the feeders my parents have out there, must have thought that the little balloon contraptions were rival birds, and they would come diving out of nowhere to hover determinedly in front of ‘their’ feeders, to make sure no one else could drink there. My older sister has a fancy new camera and ended up getting some marvelous shots of one of the hummingbirds (and yes, the irony of one of the least nerdy family members currently possessing the coolest electronic gadgets has not escaped the rest of us).
Dinner was the traditional Christmas meatloaf (this tradition started years ago, back when my sisters and I were not much older than the niece/nephews are today, when my mom asked us what we wanted, and since most of us were not fans of ham and Thanksgiving was too recent for us to want turkey, we all immediately insisted upon meatloaf, and thus it has been meatloaf ever since). And then after dinner, the evening concluded with pie, and an amazingly out-of-key performed concert of Christmas tunes. My little sister and I, representing the Winds section of the band, pulled out recorders and tried very hard to remember how the fingerings for the flats. The Brass section consisted of the oldest nephew on his trumpet, his dad on the trombone, and my dad on his old French horn. The remainder of the band was made up of Richard on a goofy little water whistle, my younger sister’s husband on a lovely new Irish drum, the youngest nephew on the triangle, and the niece who promptly grabbed the duck whistle (which, when blown, sounds just like a duck squawking), while my older sister took over the piano and our mom pulled out a kazoo. We all tried tuning in the beginning, but that really ended up being a big exercise in futility, so we all decided to heck with that, and just gleefully set off to do the best we could. I suspect that the best I can say about our little ‘concert’ was that we all started and stopped on time, and usually the melody was pretty recognizable, which is saying a lot, considering that there was a lot of giggling and wincing at wrong notes and peering cross-eyed at music as we all gamely sight-read our way through the songs.
My older sister set her camera up to record for each of the tunes, so when she finally gets a chance to upload the videos I will link to them from here. I think Silent Night ended up everyone’s favorite, if only because it turns out that the niece turned out to be a master Duck Whistle player, and really, Silent Night punctuated by crazy duck squawking really is something more professional musicians ought to consider incorporating into their repertoire.
‘Tis the season for Holidailies.