the last holiday gathering

Typically, by December 30th, Christmas feels like last year's holiday. Not forgotten, but really distant. Whatever tree I have up has grown stiff and brittle from its long indoor life. Time to take it down. My attention shifts toward the new year.

But this year, all this has changed. Because the kids came up from Chicago to be with me for the weekend following the 25th, Christmas has a had quite the long run at the farmhouse! Only this evening, when all is very quiet here, do I feel that the holiday is towards its end.

And it was a remarkable, beautiful holiday!

I came to it tired and and not a little frustrated. Oh, I had had my nights of sleep, but still, the days dragged me down. For me, November had been brutal (the weather, Ed's prolonged absence) and I expected to coast through December. Well, that didn't happen. My mom's stroke completely changed my routines. There were still the grandkids to watch, there were holiday preparations, but mainly, there was a lot of mom stuff to deal with.

But here's a miraculous thing: this weekend, when my daughters and their families came together at the farmhouse, no one was sick. No kid had even the sniffles. This in itself was fabulous! No low grade fevers, no ear infections, no passing around nasty bugs. With small kids in our midst, that is indeed a rare event in this season!

And here's another sweet detail: for decades, when the kids were little, I made a big fuss for three meals in a row: I cooked and baked for all of Christmas Eve dinner, Christmas breakfast and Christmas dinner. And I decided to do that again this weekend: three meals in a row for all of us. The goal was to make it special but also to spread the prep throughout the day so that I would not disappear into the kitchen for hours on end and be removed from the fun of playing with everyone. Somehow, it worked well. All meals were ready within fifteen minutes of the predicted hour and I felt I could weave in and out of child fun and kitchen duties.

Still, today, we all voted for going out for our last meal together. There is magic in that as well and yes, this day, all of it, was liberally sprinkled with magic.


Breakfast. In two parts: the first is just me and the little girl, sharing a mango.






I then bring up Snowdrop's balance bike. Want to try it? Yes! Adjust the seat and we're off!






Breakfast part two: with my two girls.






Let's ride you over to the kitchen sink for a bath now!






Then follows some serious cooking for Primrose and me! But only pretend.






With a birthday cake!






And macarons.






We meet up on the Capitol Square for an early lunch at Graze (the casual place that's a companion to the posh L'Etoile).






You'd think these two hadn't seen each other in years! The joy is that great!










Graze is completely empty when we arrive and it remains on the empty side the entire time we're there. Not many people come in for a festive brunch on a Monday. Downtown Madison feels a bit empty -- closed down in anticipation of another holiday coming up tomorrow. But all this throws us a nice benefit: first of all, we get a terrific table with a view...






And, too, no one minds that the kids are a little more active. They are all well trained to sit quietly when in a restaurant, but today we bend the rules a little. And this makes for a very happy bunch of young ones.











"Are you taking apicture of the two sisters? Can I be in it?"






"I'm just happy to play with my napkin..."






When they stand on an air vent, their skirts lift, as if walking in a city over a subway vent.





And so ends my holiday. I'd say it ranked up there among the finest.

I came home, drank a tall cup of coffee and promptly fell asleep on the orange small cuch. Tired and happy, all at the same time.