When I was a child, a portion of our extended family moved from Chicago to California. Another portion lived up in Wisconsin. These were my aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents. So, at Christmas time, we would get a huge contingency of out of town visitors. Most of them would stay with us at our house. As a child who had only one sibling, I thought this was awesome. For a week or two, we had the chance to see what it was like growing up in a family like the Brady Bunch. Or at least that’s what the scenario was in my head. Christmas came to mean that your house was bursting at the seams with family.
Those relatives still come for the holidays. However, it’s not necessarily every year now. But this year, they’re here. And I have to say; it feels more like Christmas now that they’ve arrived.
We do your typical holiday activities. So far, we’ve seen Santa, had a feast or two, watched Christmas movies, and had lots of good conversation and laughs over numerous bottles of wine. Last night, the little ones put on a fantastic play about Christmas and even the 3 year olds were given a part. Six little people built this spectacular gingerbread house. As they each wore their red Santa hats, they colored and taped up mistletoe around the doorframes. They couldn’t be any cuter or filled with any more anticipation.
My grandparents are getting older. They are 90 and 83. These are their children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren that I’ve been talking about. I am so grateful this Christmas that we can be together. Grateful for the opportunity my children have to experience a Christmas full of family. A house full of love. And all of the crazy chaos such a large group brings with it.