Husband surprised me with this very cool gift for Christmas...a "personal robot" that scoots around the house and sweeps up the dirt on a continuous basis. There's a lot of hardwood in this house which makes this an especially good gift. (And don't even get me started on the cat hair and fuzzy balls floating around the house.)
Our holiday was very nice this year, though sad at times. The family dynamics have completely changed with the absence of my mom and my sister. I kept thinking about how much Jo Mama would have loved to see her great-grandson open his gifts...play with his building blocks...and strum his new, Wiggles guitar. And my sister Ann was always in her element during Christmas. She loved to give gifts and typically spent the entire year accumulating stuff for that one moment when we rotate around the room and unwrap our packages. Ann always had a huge, knowing smile on her face as we opened her packages and screamed in shock over her generosity.
I feel guilty for noticing the flip-side too, that the holiday was a bit lighter than normal without mom or Ann. Jo Mama always had a frenetic energy about her which raised the tension of the room. She tended to be Jittery, and it put the entire family on edge. She and Dad also used to bicker, argue, criticize or pout when they were around each other, so that usually cast a pall on any event as well. And my sister Ann thrived on The Argument. So conversations typically felt like a tug-of-war (Me) or Pussy Acquiescence (Denise)...meaning I wouldn't "give-in" just to make peace and my sister Denise always, always did. I think our actions used to infuriate the other equally.
All that I really wanted to do for Christmas was stay home...here in Colorado. Southern California was nice and it's always good to see my sister and her family, but I prefer being in my own home. When I jumped into bed last night I almost cried: The perfect pillow, my favorite comforter, my little cat nestled in the nook of my arm.
There really is no place like home. I'm so happy to be back.
