Greatest Christmas Pageant

Every year I have unrealistic expectations about Christmas. I don't know why I don't learn. The elf brings matching Christmas pajamas, and I think that we will have a sweet picture of the boys sitting still, reading the Christmas story and enjoying each other and the spirit of the season. Fast forward to Christmas Eve, The Husband locking both boys in the sun room while he swept the kitchen and calling to them "you're going to be together for the rest of your lives- you might as well learn now!"

Forget the summer solstice, Christmas Eve was the longest day of the year. The Boy asked 100 times when it was going to be Christmas Eve, and I told him 100 times "today is Christmas Eve." Then he'd respond "but when is it going to be NIGHT?" You and me both, buddy. On Christmas Eve Eve he decided that if Christmas is about giving he'd like to get a gift for Santa's elves. WHO can say no to that?  I let The Boy pick out elf presents when we needed to go to CVS. He chose some Monsters, Inc. monsters, which he decided he could play with before the elves came.

The rest of the day vacillated between anticipation and irritation for all involved. We threatened at one point to cancel all of Christmas. We were going to church at 5:00. About 3:30 The Husband asked if we could leave yet. We got the boys ready in their Christmas sweaters in 75 degree rainy weather. Walking outside felt like being in a boy's locker room. This is where I'd want to get a picture, but everyone was whiney. One was sitting in a corner like Little Jack Horner, so that his brother couldn't get his snack. The other was tired and frustrated that you have no power when you're one.

I asked The Boy if he wanted to make a holiday video of him singing a Christmas song. He did, and I placed him strategically in front of the scenic fireplace, the stocking holders spelling out PEACE behind him. But then when I pressed record his song was all about butts and I walked out of the room, a director on strike over an actor being unprofessional.

We went to church and The Boy's class joined the big kids' Christmas pageant to sing This Little Light of Mine. Somehow a 3 year old girl got a hold of the mic, and while all the kids were singing her voice was loudest. Then maybe the other kids realized that she was the songstress, and they all got louder until they were yell-singing I'M GONNA LET IT SHINE all on top of each other.

BeYoYo was thrilled that grandparents were there, and he grunted to be passed back and forth between them. While the congregation sang Silent Night he shreiked and shrilled, and was anything but. I thought to myself it was a good thing that Jesus came as a baby because he would appreciate this. When the pastor was explaining that all are welcome to the communion table, The Boy started to get up and walk toward the front. I told him it wasn't time yet, and he said "but mom, I'm just going to the nativity scene." I shook my head and gave him The Mom Eyes, and he said too loudly "but MOM! The animals here aren't breakable!" Apparently he was planning to go up and play with the nativity scene during the service. It was all very The-Greatest-Christmas-Pageant.

By the time we got to The Husband's grandmother's house BeYoYo had fallen asleep in the car. We woke him up and took him in to eat and play with cousins.The kids played and ran through the house and thoroughly enjoyed each other. They opened gifts and it was loud and chaotic. Kids yelled for parents to open things. Parents yelled "who was this from? Did you tell them thank you?" Kids yelled their thank yous robotically, while searching for the next gift.

Thankfully both boys fell asleep on the way home. We paused to let them tell the elf goodbye and carried them straight to bed. We went soon after. Santa came in the night and left a few gifts for the boys. The Boy was happy, and said "can you believe Santa got me everything I wanted?!" Santa had brought exactly 4 things, and I smiled a mama smile inside knowing that Santa had not brought the hot air balloon or other elaborate things he'd wanted, and he was content all the same. For a minute at least.

The Husband and I got BeYoYo a seat for my bike, and The Boy a 4 wheeler from Craigslist. I figure with the money we saved we can pay for all the urgent care bills we're sure to accrue. We all went outside to play in our pajamas, and neighbors had gotten crazy carts, which they were playing with in the cul-de-sac too. The Boy got mud all over his appliquéd Christmas pajamas while digging for worms, and they are now ruined. I tried SO hard not to let that bother me. Apparently making children come inside to change clothes is not the spirit of the season.

Christmas Day worm

Later on Christmas Day more grandparents came over with more gifts. Aunts and uncles too. The boys got matching spiderman pjs that they immediately put on and left on for almost 36 hours.

The next day we were back at the mother-in-law's house for more gifts and cousin play. Then the next day we went to Atlanta to be with my family at my cousin's brand new house- more gifts and cousins and fun and chaos and karaoke. One of my boys bled on one rug, another got red velvet on another. I walked in the kitchen to find The Boy fully outstretched on the island, helping himself to some cookies out of his reach.

Someone this holiday season posted a Brene Brown quote that said "the magic is in the mess." If that's true we're the David Copperfield of the holidays. Deep breaths.

This picture is a little perfect for a quote on messiness, don't you think? 

The holidays are a whirlwind for us. They are busy, they are exhausting, but they are fun. Mostly. Here's our version of Rocking Around the Christmas Tree.

Riding around the cul-de-sac

letting the wind blow through our hair

Who do you want to bet will be

The first to go to urgent care? 

You will get a sinking feeling when you hear

Grandma and Santa bought the same Darth Vader, 

you mixed up the lists this year! 

Rocking around the Christmas Tree

All the cousins having fun

Line them up for the paparazzi

Two elves are better than one

Rocking around the karaoke machine

Which song are you going to sing? 

Which kid just ruined their brand new rug?

And can you pass mama a drink? 

You will get a vicarious hernia when you see

All these gifts the boys were given

Blame the grandparents, don't blame me!

Rocking around the Christmas Tree

We're drowning in Dinotrux

Star Wars, Ninja Turtles, Superman

All the pieces make me want to cuss

Rocking around the Christmas Tree

Our only caroling is about butts

The baby got a remote control dog that poops 

These boys are making me nuts

You will get a nauseous feeling when you hear

Sure it's been more than two days, but can't we just wear our spiderman pjs? 

Somebody remind mama at the next holiday

Toss out the expectations

This is our new old fashion way......

Glory Glory to Ole Georgia

This time of year we reflect on when the crowds cried "Crucify him! Crucify him!" and the man in charge washed his hands of this, telling the people he was only giving them what they wanted. Of course I'm talking about Mark Richt getting fired. It's the end of an era.

Luckily we took The Boy to his first UGA football game a few weeks ago, so he can say he went to a Mark Richt game. We tailgated with friends, he watched college kids toss a ball in the parking lot, he peed in a toilet that features rival mascots in the bowl, he walked around campus in his Super Dawg cape, we talked to friends, saw the Dawg Walk, and ate dinner at Bolton Hall. He even got a waffle with a G in the middle. A kid's dream.

I know that football is frivolous. It seems ridiculous and trite following the terrorist attacks in Paris, and the shootings again last week in California. But I would be lying to you if I said I didn't tear up a little when that boy entered the stadium on his daddy's shoulders. I'd been in that stadium more times than I can count,  with tens of thousands of people laying aside politics, religion, socioeconomic status, race (okay, maybe not so much race), and education to cheer for our team. There are a lot of things wrong with college football, but the sense of community it brings ain't one of them.

The first time I went to a game I think I was nine. Our friends, the Millers, often drove up for the games, and they invited us to join. Their daughters, Bethany and Jennifer, cheered all the cheers and sang all the songs, and I sat there with big eyes asking them to repeat what they were saying and translate for me. Their daddy hooped and hollered and laughed his contagious laugh. I don't remember if we won, but I remember eating frozen lemonade and sitting in the warm sun in the end zone taking it all in. I was hooked. When their daddy died much too young I would cherish the memory of that warm day and his big smile.

From then on I started watching games at home with my dad. He'd turn down the TV volume so we could hear legendary announcer Larry Munson call the plays, as is custom for any dawg fan. I went to games when I could, and in high school I decorated my bedroom in red and black and adorned my walls with news clippings about the players and the games. I only applied to one college: UGA, and Santa brought my acceptance letter on Christmas Eve my senior year.

One of my favorite games ever was when we played Georgia Tech in what must have been my 8th grade year. I think Hines Ward was still playing. I was at my grandparents' house, and my mom and Grandmama were out shopping. My granddad and I sat in the living room watching the nail biter game together for hours. When we won in the final minute, he and I both jumped up and down and yelled for our team. After The Husband and I got married there were a few Saturdays I remember driving the two hours back down to their house to watch football with my granddad again. I wish I'd done it more.

In college The Husband and I went to all the games we could. We got there early and stayed out late, and stood in the student section that smelled like beer and immaturity. We tailgated with friends and yelled to our team. We watched hype videos the week leading up to the game and talked about which players were out due to injury or arrest. When we were planning our wedding we arranged for Larry Munson to record our first announcement as husband and wife. Sadly he had a brain aneurism just before.

So here we were, continuing the next chapter of this tradition, and yes, I teared up. The nostalgia wave rushed over me faster than you can sack a quarterback. I thought of how lucky this boy was, with wonder in his eyes as he asked "could you believe how big it was going to be?" in his daddy's arms. I thought how he doesn't even know how lucky he is, and how many times the same could be said about me. As trivial as football is, it means much more than a score and the men on the field. College football is a glorious tradition that encourages sportsmanship, builds character, instills pride in community, and connects us with generations past. Unless we lose, and then it's just a game. I didn't let The Husband see the tears in my eyes, because he would think it was just about football. 

We found our seats and pointed out the important things in the stadium. The Boy cheered. He sang. He waved his pom poms and generally enjoyed life. 

Then two minutes and ten seconds into the game he said "I'm ready to leave now" in classic four year old style. I let him play on my phone and talked him into staying until half time. I talked up the redcoat band, and that piqued his interest enough for us to trudge through. Then after the opponent's band played exactly one song he said "okay, can we go?" And so we did. 

Trying out his Trump impression? 

All in all it was a great day passing the torch to the next generation of dawg fan. I asked him the next day what his favorite part had been, and he said "getting to eat fruit loops for dinner!" Glory Glory to Ole Cereal.