A very merry brown Christmas

We had what Minnesotans refer to as a brown Christmas - meaning no snow.  And while snow is what I think Chris asks Santa for every year, with a new little one and a toddler, I'm not complaining right now about the lack of it.  Not only am I not climbing over snowbanks with a car seat or trying to push a shopping cart loaded down with children through a slushy parking lot, but we've had some unseasonably warm days as well.  I've been able to do more walking with the stroller than I usually do at this time of year, and the fewer items of clothing you have to bundle your kids in, the easier it is to "dash" out to the car. 

We did have quintessential winter weather earlier in the month when a few inches of snow and brisk temperatures greeted us on the morning we went to pick out our Christmas tree.  But the otherwise lack of snow the rest of the month didn't make the holidays any less festive.  We baked and decorated gingerbread cookies to deliver to our neighbors, sang Christmas carols with friends, received a visit from St. Nicholas, visited the Macy's "A Day in the Life of an Elf" at Santa Land in downtown Minneapolis and baked dozens of cookies for our annual cookie exchange with friends.  Although Oliver was not happy about visiting with Santa Claus at the beginning of the season, he was clearly interested in him as he excitedly pointed out Santa everywhere he saw him, whether it was a glimpse of him in a newspaper ad or a live Santa exiting the grocery store.

After the last trip to the post office had been made, presents had been wrapped and stockings had been hung with care, we packed up the kids and headed to Chris's parent's for the annual Christmas Eve potluck feast where we caught up with each other on a year's worth of news.  We had planned to put Oliver to bed upstairs around his normal bedtime, but before we knew it, it was THREE HOURS past his bedtime, he had consumed nothing but milk and trail mix and he was making repeated laps around the first floor wearing a Santa hat. 

Soren made the rounds among the arms of relatives and introduced himself to those he hadn't met before.  His Great-Grandma Ann particularly fawned over him.  She has Alzheimer's and although I was cognizant of continuously referring to him as her great-grandson or her grandson Chris's son, I was never completely certain she really knew who he was or if she'd remember him later on.  But that didn't seem to matter that night.  She seemed so happy to be able to cuddle a beautiful little baby in her arms and get a few smiles dripping with drool out of him. 

It was a sentimental evening for Chris's grandfather too who cried when he told Chris how proud he was of him and the beautiful family he had created.  Every time he gets to see his beautiful great-grandsons is a blessing, he said.  Now Chris's mom is the type to cry at weddings, but in my observations of the Cheslas, the Chesla men aren't the crying types. So I found the story especially poignant.
Despite the over stimulation of Christmas Eve, Soren kept his night-wakings to a minimum and Oliver slept in. Awesome!

We got Oliver dressed and camera-ready and went downstairs to open presents, but it turned out we were more excited about opening his presents than Oliver was. As soon as the presents had gone under the tree in the days before Christmas, Oliver had trouble staying away from them. He liked sorting them and using them like blocks, but on Christmas morning, he just didn't get the concept of unwrapping them. He'd become engrossed with the most current unwrapped gift and didn't care much that something equally as fun was underneath the wrapping of the next gift.  It was a good reminder for me as a parent that a few special gifts can go a long way.
After our traditional Christmas Day soup and sandwich lunch, and a nap for Oliver, we had a final round of opening presents at the grandparent's. 

This was the first year since moving to Minnesota that I haven't gone back to Philadelphia at Christmas time.  Now that I have a family of my own and Minnesota feels like home to me, I like being able to spend Christmas here, have my kids wake up on Christmas morning in their own beds and maintain as stress-free of a holiday for them by limiting the number of celebrations we attend and banning travel on the actual holiday days.  Unfortunately, it is impossible to be in two places at once.  So that means there were four of us missing from the Partenheimer Christmas celebration back in Philadelphia.  The first couple of Christmases after my mom died were really tough.  Bu the holidays are once again happier and more lively times now that my dad is remarried.  My brother, dad and I didn't just get a new step-mom/wife, but a whole extra family with Debbie's daughter, son-in-law, two kids, as well as her mom and mom's new husband.  With eleven people gathered around their table on Christmas Eve, they achieved having the most people come together for a Partenheimer Christmas.  So even though we couldn't have been two places at once, that doesn't mean I didn't fantasize about it being possible, or at least how I could convince the Philadelphia relatives to move to Minnesota.