Yeah. Christmas pretty much rocked.
It was low key, low stress and high on comfort and joy. For the first time in a long time I'm feeling like Christmas was neither too hard nor too soft. Not too hot, not too cold, it was just right.
We're still meandering about, lazing, listening to the rain and enjoying the afterglow. The tree is still up, but we haven't turned on the lights since Christmas.
The mantle is cleared of it's wreath and is now home to the most lovely mantle clock from my folks. I always wanted one of those.
It bongs on the hour and the half hour and it makes me feel all fancy inside every single time I hear it. Even the kids stop to listen, count the bongs, and smile. For the first time ever, I polished the exactly FOUR pieces of silver(plate) tableware that I own because I felt like a house that has a bonging clock should have polished silver too.
A house that has a bonging clock should probably NOT have laundry on the couch and dishes in the sink but I haven't been moved to do anything about those just yet.
Instead I've been laying up on the couch reading and listening to the hours go by. (I'm reading The Help. It's really really good!)
Lest you think that this sounds all serene and peaceful like, I should tell you a couple of things...
First, my middle dude has been taking guitar lessons for two years now and has been hoping, saving, dreaming, praying for an electric guitar since he was... oh about two. For real.
He totally didn't see it coming. Wasn't even considering it.
Suffice it to say that he about came clean out of his skin with joy. I love it when that happens. And now we are being treated to the Jimi Hendrix version of Away in a Manger and When the Saints Go Marching In on the hour and half hour too.
It's good. But it's loud. It's real. REAL loud.
Joy should be loud. Right? Right. Rock on.
Second, our family was also gifted with a record player and a box of my old records. My kids didn't even know what it was. "Is it like a CD player?"
They are now, much to my delight, crazy in love with vinyl, and I am having the best time watching them make up silly dance routines to the very same songs that I bee bopped to in front of my mirror as a child. Prince, Madonna (when she was cool), Tina Turner, Three Dog Night, Bruce Springsteen, Chipmunk Rock, Van Halen, Cher, the Eurythmics, Sting, Tears for Fears, even a stack of Peter Pan records with their accompanying story books... they love them all. They love the crackly sound and moving the needle over. They love changing the speed and listening to the silly results. They love it and I do too. I have a feeling that there's going to be a run on records at the local Goodwills.
So our house is happy and loud and messy and full of song... which is precisely what a house full of boys should be I suppose, every hour, on the hour and all the minutes in between.