It's a Most Wonderful Life

I have dithered for the past quarter hour about which picture to use for the beauty shot of this post, the one that sums up the MomQueenBee Christmas.

I have a couple of hundred photos on my phone now that are dated within the past six days. Should I post the one of Santa and his Elf passing out stocking gifts? Or the Christmas morning group photo that is a tribute to plaid? Or the shot of the impromptu outdoor concert on Boxing Day featuring the possibly-unique instrumentation of clarinet, bassoon, trombone, and tuba?

The eventual winner, though, is one I hope will be an encouragement to all moms out there. 

You young mamas, in the throes of the constancy when you are never, ever off duty? It's for you.

And you moms of toddlers, who are mobile but not rational? It's for you. 

And you mothers of teens, who many days are equal parts angst and body odor? It's for you. 

This picture is to let you know that the very, very best is yet to come. Those wrinkled, swollen-knuckled, wonky-nailed hands are mine. The perfect dimpled fingers clutching my middle finger belong to Baby Wonderful #2. I have arrived at the age when one of my dear ones says "Here--would you mind napping this kid while I shower?" and that moment is every bit as perfect as I had dreamed it would be. As you sit and rock someone else figures out the schedule and the next meal. Someone else brews the coffee and cleans up the mountains of dirty dishes. Someone else changes the diapers.

This is the first year in three decades we've spent Christmas completely away from the House on the Corner. With sons in four states, our Small Town location is inconveniently distant to major airports, though, so the Boys decided we would descend on the #One family and Boy, Lovely Girl, and Baby Wonderful offered to be our hosts. Their sprawling colonial is big enough to accommodate the 10 oversized personalities that make up our clan, so we vaccinated, boosted, tested, and traveled. 

Here's our Christmas by the numbers:

    Months it had been since the entire family had been together: 15, and at that time the future arrival of the now-nine-month-old baby seen above was just being announced. 

    Family members who had not even met yet: Three. Between the pandemic and an unfortunately-timed case of daycare virus that coincided with Baby Wonderful #2's baptism, the cousins (and Lovely Girl#1) had never been face to face. 

    Days we were together: Six. 

    Days we knew which day of the week it was: Zero. (Or was that just me?)

    Meals I cooked during those six days: Zero. 

    Meals I ate that were better than anything I could cook: Pretty much every one of them.

    Time it took to open presents: Two days, because we stopped when we were tired the first day and babies don't care.

    Baby crankiness: On an age-appropriate basis, but so much less than I always remember from my own babies. 

    Adult crankiness: None. Not one discernible bit. 

 

Mothers of not-yet-adult siblings, take special note of that last measurement. If your shoulders are aching from carrying the emotional baggage of your offsprings' sibling squabbles, your special word of hope is "Adulthood." As in they will some day reach it, and with any luck, they'll be delightful humans who are thrilled to be around each other. Or maybe that is only true for six days at a time. Maybe living in four different states gives our own Boys the absent heart fondness responsible for our delightful Christmas, 

Whatever the reason, the unmitigated joy that was the this week was the perfect antidote to two years of uncertainty and fear during which the birth of the Babies Wonderful, just as the original Christmas baby, were a beacon of hope. 

How great my joy.

(I can't leave you without a glimpse of the
Christmas morning Santa and his helper elf.)