Merry ChristmasPosted: December 25, 2012
This morning, Das Big Boy decided to sleep in yet again. Until 9:30. Obviously, I know it’s awesome that I have a late snozzing toddler. (Full disclosure: he went to bed at 9 last night and typically doesn’t nap anymore). But this morning, Herr Husband and I wanted him to wake the heck up and see what Santa had brought and go on a present opening bender! Talk about role reversal.
Eventually he did awaken, and was pleased to note that Santa had consumed the milk and cookies left out for him. What Santa didn’t know was that Das Big Boy took a bite of each cookie before putting it on the plate.
At first, he seemed overwhelmed by his presents. We bought a train table for his train tracks, and added a battery powered engine that we had going when he came into the room. He was shy to approach the table at first, but quickly got into it, demanding we turn the train on! Even more quickly, he knocked over the elevated tracks, undoing the hours of work (I’m not kidding. ESA, HH and I spent an embarrassingly long time trying configure the train to include all of our desired elements).
Das Big Boy also received a tricycle, which he’s actually managed to pedal a tiny bit. He’ll tell anyone who listens, “Santa brought me a tricycle!” or “I’m on a bike!” which reminds me of the SNL skit “I’m on a Boat!” This in turn reminds me of a very different time in my life, when Herr Husband and I were part of a flotilla of business school students sailing through the Caribbean on boats and doing things like making daiquiris instead of dinner and swimming to friends’ boats for cocktail parties and having an oar stolen by an octopus. These are not things that happen to us now. But we did give Das Big Boy an octopus puppet for Christmas. “Pooplo” was obviously a big hit. And I did eat Christmas cookies for lunch.
After Christmas morning as a merry threesome, La Gigi, El Papa, and Mimi came over. That’s when the cookies for lunch came in. I also ate my weight in potato chips and onion dip. We had a lovely afternoon. Getting through the present opening was a process, because Das Big Boy wanted to play and didn’t have the sustained attention for opening, but we made it. I amused myself by giving my mother an empty box (which alerted her to a forthcoming surprise), and an openly regifted book that ESA had given me (and which I did generously hustle to finish so I could give it to my mother.) Das Big Boy was totally spoiled, as usual. It was a wonderful family afternoon.
With all of the visitors we’ve had, I’ve practically forgotten that I’m on bed rest, so surrounded have I been with friends, family, love, and activity. It’s a great feeling. Herr Husband, however, has not forgotten that I’m on bedrest, as all I do is entertain our visitors with sparkling conversation, and hang out with or occasionally feed our child. Everything else (cooking, feeding our guests, cleaning, actively parenting said child) falls to Herr Husband. So while he had an equally fun time, he might be a bit exhausted.
A final thought. I love holidays because they give us a chance to reflect. I can remember each of Das Big Boy’s Christmases vividly. His first was in the NICU, where the nurses were surprised he didn’t have a Christmas outfit. Given that in the hospital, Das Big Boy had only my last name, which is as Jewish as they come, we found it amusing that they expected him to have such attire (even though we do celebrate Xmas). Fashion faux pas aside, Das Big Boy got presents and we snuggled lots. He was still on CPAP, and had just moved to an open crib. Last Christmas, he managed to open some of his own presents, was cruising but not quite walking, and had maybe a couple of word approximations (mm for mama, and buh for book). He wore Christmas jammies in the morning and a button-down in the afternoon. He had a G-tube and was on nighttime 02. This year, he has no medical interventions or equipment, unless you count a mother on bedrest. He speaks in run-ons and has an enormous and constantly growing vocabulary (“The train rumbles on the tracks,” he informed me this morning.) He climbs on everything in sight (and both understands and actively ignores warnings that he might hurt himself). He makes jokes and is amusingly bossy. And he and his mother both wore footie pajamas all day.
Each day was magical, and they just keep getting better.