baby's first christmas. . .is done, thank goodness.

We in the Paradis household are pretty happy Christmas has come and gone. The three of us feel like we've been going a mile a minute for about a week and a half. I finally understand why those with small children don't stay until the end of the party. . .ever.

The smallest person needs the most stuff. Diapers and food and bottles and toys and extra clothing (because I've already learned that lesson the hard way) and teething rings and rash cream (although we've never had a diaper rash) and don't forget the Tylenol because you never know what might happen. . .and while we're thinking about it, might as well throw in the thermometer because they probably don't have one where you're going. And oh, right. . .the Cheerios and snack trap and those little disposable place mats you bought that stick to the table to protect your hosts' dining tables. . .and how about some Aleve for mom, too? And where are the car keys. . .again?

Repeat that for about four days.

Then we get where we're going and it's miserable trying to keep Cole in one place because Christmas is exciting and the other kids are exciting and presents are exciting and putting ribbon in our mouth is exciting and stairwells with no gates are exciting and so are sharp-edged coffee tables. Which for some reason, doesn't matter how many times we pop our head on it we're going to do it again. . .and again. . .

And it's okay because it's Christmas and we love our families and want to spend time with them during the holiday. . .

But what all the other people with small children don't tell you. . .is that you don't really spend any time with your families at all. . .because you're busy doing all of the above and actually spend most of the day on your knees. . .roughly 6 inches in back of Cole with one hand ready to stop him from pinching his cousin, or putting that pebble that he found on the carpet in his mouth. . .

And we haven't even gotten into the amount of loot you come home with during this first Christmas with a baby. . .

Plastic toys as big as furniture that light up and play music are in every corner of the place. He was given 4 ride on toys. . .and he doesn't have any friends! I'll have to recruit neighborhood kids to start a bike gang so they can ride together. Everyone was so generous and we really are so lucky.

But the things he wants to play with the most? The boxes. . .the wrapping paper. . .the bows. You mean that's all we had to get him for Christmas? Does that last for the 2nd and 3rd Christmases?

The one thing we take solace in. . .is that we see other family members have come through the throws of the first few Christmases better for it. They trudge in, having spent hours in the car with one kid in each arm, one tiny bag slung over a shoulder, and are happy with happy kids. They say 'Merry Christmas' and mean it. We'll get there. . .we just need to find our groove. ;-)