first or last christmas?
It’s December. December. The last month of the year. The crazy month of the year. We’re on day two and I am already freaking out a little about all the things I won’t get around to doing. (J will tell you I do this every year and he is right.) (And every year Christmas is great after all.)
This year is the first Christmas with a baby. Last year she was just a tiny thing swimming around in my stomach. This year she’s here. This means that people can count on presents from stores which will allow me to take the pram with me while shopping. If we have to climb a stairway to get to your favourite store that’s not where we’ll be buying your present.
People keep telling me that it is so exciting with baby’s first Christmas and all and I do get their point, but I don’t see this as baby’s first Christmas, I see this Christmas as my last.
Baby has to go to sleep early. Baby doesn’t know what a present is. Baby’s parents are going to have to open her presents. Baby might find Christmas tree and carol singing interesting, but she finds the towels in the bathroom interesting. Baby doesn’t know about Baby Jesus yet.
This year is my baby’s first Christmas, but this year is also my last Christmas. It is the last Christmas in a long time where I will be allowed to sit and enjoy my rice pudding and my duck and have a glass of red wine and talk to my husband and my parents without constantly being asked “when will we light the tree?”, “when will I have presents?”, “why do you eat so slow?”
So on the 24th (yep, that 25th thing is a misunderstanding) I will celebrate my baby’s first Christmas. I can’t wait to see her expression when she sees the tree, but I also can’t wait to put her to bed and have a glass of wine, watch her sleep and spend the last Christmas thinking how far I have come and how much is in front of me.