'Twas the night before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas
24 December 2012

‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, everyone was sleeping, including the mouse.  I mean, the hamster.  The sleeping beauties included the dad, the three kids, the two dogs, the hamster and the two fish.  The only one roaming and still wide awake was the Mom.

But then again, this was not usual behaviour for her.  She is a bit of a night owl after all.  So the cause for tonight’s midnight roaming?  Well, the answer is simple.  She has duties to fulfil.

And what duties might that be?  It’s Christmas and surely time to rest.  Well, she has biscuits to eat and carrots to nibble.  And milk to drink too.  She has to take care of a wee bit of correspondence on Father Christmas’ behest and ensure that there are some tell-tale reindeer droppings as well as other evidence in her garden.  Clues left behind that bear testament to an annual visit by a fat guy with a belly and a beard, sporting a bunch of rowdy reindeers in tow.  On this occasion, she left big fat kidney beans all over her garden as evidence.  According to the letter from Father Christmas, Rudoph was battling with a spot of gas, due to overindulging in beans, which he had consumed in copious quantities at a previous house, whilst doing gift deliveries.  Reindeers!

The meal has been planned.  The gifts have been wrapped.  Some of the wrapped boxes under the tree actually contain clues to treasure hunts, leading the kids to their presents.  And thus the presents have been hidden.  The Xmas stockings have been filled.  The waffle batter for Xmas morning breakfast has been mixed.  The cameras are charged.  And by the time you read this, her blog would have been posted.

The halls have been beautifully decked and she greatly admires it all.  The Christmas lights are a twinkling.  And I suspect that the very last thing she’ll do, just before going to bed, is to sit down for a moment and take if all in.  To marvel at how far she has come.

From a little and insecure girl, to a mother of three.  A mother who deeply loves her children.  A wife who deeply loves her husband.  And a woman who deeply loves her family.  A mother who has created traditions for her children.  Who knows that her children feel loved.  Who beautifies their home and their lives for them.  Who shields them from pain and hurt.  Who makes life good for them.  A mother who loves.

When did this all happen?  She can hardly remember.  Just the other day she was a gawky teenager.  All knock knees and low self-esteem.  Painfully shy and not brave enough to say boo or voice an opinion.  Perhaps she didn’t even have one.  And now she’s running a home, a business and a family.  She’s hardly qualified, but she seems to be doing an okay and relatively good job of it.  If passion and love are requirements, she’s got it in spades.

And so she sits back and wistfully admires her quiet house for a moment.  In a few hours time, it will be a hive of activity and excitement.  Children’s voices raised in happiness and expectation.  Before long, squeals of delight and shredded wrapping paper everywhere.  And much, much later blissful content.  Once the Christmas lunch has been eaten, the dishes are done, the batteries are inserted in new toys, computer games have been installed.  The floor will be strewn with new toys.  Bellies will be full (she’s attempting a killer chocolate mousse for dessert).  Even the dogs get pressies and will be munching away.

She’ll put her feet up on the couch and have a relax.  Soaking it all up and reliving the wonderful day and think to herself – Merry Christmas.  Done, delivered and dusted.  Well done!