You know how you hear about needing a vacation from your vacation?

Ok, folks.   I. am. pooped. 



Deceptively angelic-looking

 Or, um...  Since we are currently trying to surgically remove from our five-year-old's amazingly large vocabulary the category of vaguely vulgar phrasings he seems to collect the same way he saves beer bottle caps and anything remotely resembling a spider, snake or worm -- let me rephrase:

Worn out.  I'm worn out.

In a good way, mind you.  Don't get me wrong; I cannot begin to tell you what a wonderful Christmas holiday we've had here.  First of all, the blessings of the seasons we found Incarnate at Midnight Mass, the event that everything else led up to and followed.  Gabe and Anna were honored to represent the Blessed Mother and St. Joseph in our parish this year, bringing the Infant Jesus in his crib to be placed in the Creche before Mass began. It was all very beautiful.  And neither of them tripped or dropped the Baby Jesus, so we all sighed a sigh of relief and were free to breathe in the beauty of the rest of the night...  

...and the rest of the Christmas vacation together ...

where there was more than enough to see and do and enjoy to please everyone.  There has of course been a most important new family member that everyone is oohing and ahhing over and enjoying immensely....  (Such a cutie, and such a remarkably good baby!  Gavin hardly ever cries!)

But, then there's also been pinochle, poker and board games all through the day and into the night, off and on, at any given time.  Impromptu concerts at the piano springing up out of nowhere and then petering off when the musicians get distracted or start goofing off too much to sing or play.  Football games, volleyball games,  golf and disc golf  (because it seems that Colorado got Georgia's Christmas weather by mistake).  Gatherings going to movies.  Gatherings going to daily Mass.  Gatherings going to paint pottery for the plate collection I'm making for my living room wall. (More on that later, I promise.)

And then the real parties:  first, a luncheon on the vigil of Christmas to greet incoming family and say goodbye to the Sisters of our parish before they headed back to their Mother House for their Christmas Break.  Then, naturally, a party all day Christmas day with everyone on hand eating candyand playing wii games nonstop.  And a party on the Monday after Christmas to celebrate the Baptism of our sweet little Grandbaby, Gavin James. 



 Fr. G. officiating at the most important event of Gavin's life, with Godparents, Uncle Kevin
and  Aunt Michelle, and Uncle Dominic serving.



Then we celebrated both Dan's birthday and Theresa's (Twelfth Birthday!) with a party on Wednesday.  Followed by a party on New Year's Eve traditionally hosted by Dan's Dad  (the annual lollapaloozer featuring Bingo and movies with all the children until midnight when they all drink a sip of champaigne and go immediately to bed so they can make it up for the Holy Day Mass the next day). 



Check out the Grand Piano Cake made by Grandpa, Jon, and Michelle for Theresa's 12th.  There's a teeny, tiny bit of real sheet music on there. (The music for Jubilate Deo.)

Throughout all the festivities, though,  there's been the common factor and greastest pleasure, the company:  guests and relatives all week long.  A house packed to overflowing. Bursts of laughter from various corners, too many for me to sprint around saying: What'd I miss?  What'd I miss?  (Dang it.  But I tried.)



Kev:  Huh?

 And half-consumed drinks left everywhere: on the piano (Jon's?), on the bookcase by the poker players (Grandpa?), on coffee tables (pick your teen), in cracks of couches (teens and young adults), on the printer (who knows, but if I find out I'm gonna have a word to say to them), on the kitchen windowsill (a dish washer probably, who gets a free pass),  all over the kitchen counters (everyone), at the feet of the big Blessed Mother statue (heathen)... 


Michelle: Mhmm

 And socks.  Dirty socks.  Everywhere.  Pretty much all the same places as the half-empty glasses... --  No, I'm kidding.--  Really, I find them mainly all over the floor.  And in the sofa cushions. And in all the beds. Pretty much everywhere but in the hamper.  And I'm not exactly sure whose they all are, as I've just been scooping them up with the dustpan and throwing them in the washer in hot water without unscrunching them to take a guess.  Not like I'd know anyway.  There were fourteen pair of adult feet running around the house this past week or so and most of them were roughly the same size, color, and smell: formerly white, stiff, sports socks crumbled tightly into inside-out balls.   I don't know that it would be possible to distinguish all their original owners, but I do know that there are going to be some young men calling home in about a week wondering if I have all their socks.  And can I send them? (Which I might.   A sock every time they call home just to chat.)


Cathy n Jon: smooch

It's been an amazing, wonderful week of togetherness (and messiness) here in Colorado.  But it's quieted down now, the day after New Year's.  Dan's left for Omaha to take Dominic and Michelle to school and to have Kevin's girlfriend, Emily, meet her ride home to Minnesota.  The grandparents have gone home along with dearest Auntie Nina.  Though Paul and Nicole will be here for another week, and they stop in frequently, their home base is at Nicole's Dad's house, so we don't have 24/7 access to our little cherub grandchild.  But we did get to have Jon  here for an extra bonus day.  He serenaded us to sleep last night, doodling around on the piano with the most lovely assortment of music at bedtime, blending from one tune to another, from Christmas carols to Enya to the Ave Maria -- I wish I had a recording of his lullabyes -- but he's headed east over the mountains tomorrow and then  it will be just me and Greg and the five Littles until Dan gets back.

 Which will be nice in a way.  Normal is kinda nice. In a humdrum, but respectably predictable kind of way.   But the house does feel very empty now.

Except for all the mess.

Which we'll get to tomorrow.  Maybe.

A brand new Monday in a brand new year. (Holy Cow. 2011!)

And, now that I've blogged our Christmas (hopefully not ad nauseum) for posterity...  I hope to move on in a real bike, not an exercycle way, and catch up with my correspondences and internet friends and do some blogging to unravel some of the things I've been thinking about in between snitching peanutM-n-Ms from the candy sideboard and picking up scraps of curling ribbon off the floor.    But be patient with me as I get rolling.  Because there is a really. big. mess. to clean up in my house.  And I really am pooped.

God Bless Everyone and Happy New Year!