I've never had a lazy Christmas before. I suppose the closest I ever came was the Christmas that Little Guy was just five days old, but feeding a wee one around the clock and recovering from childbirth just doesn't have the same feeling as lounging about in pajamas all day, snacking on leftovers and piddling around the www, while the children happily strew toy parts across every square inch of the apartment. This one's lazy because we front-loaded our celebrations.
Then, we put the children in their Christmas pajamas, laid out cookies and carrots for any possible nighttime visitors, and went to bed with visions of sugar plums doing their jig!
Such is life with little boys!
Such is life with little babies!
With Christmas breakfast at my parents' house, Mama always serves a fruit salad called ambrosia. Honestly, it's never been my favorite, mainly because it has shredded coconut and maraschino cherries, and I'm just not a fan of either. But it's there every year. Every single year.
A couple of days ago, I was grocery shopping for our Christmas breakfast. It's the first I've ever been in charge of orchestrating, and it felt monumental to be deciding on a Christmas morning menu. I mean, here I was just merrily playing matriarch in the aisles of Harris Teeter. Was I up to the task? I knew I wanted to serve monkey bread and sausage rolls, but had I really given all this enough forethought? I could be setting lifelong traditions here.
Slowly, a sense of calm came over me, as my shopping cart wheeled itself back to the canned fruit aisle. I was absolutely compelled to begin loading in cans of mandarin oranges, chunks of pineapple, and those syrupy maraschino cherries. Back to the refrigerated section I was carried, where I selected jars of sectioned grapefruit. And on to the shredded coconut, of course.
Ambrosia. No Christmas morning is complete without it.