The smell of Mom’s cinnamon rolls wakes me up. Someone has opened my door this morning to make sure I have as much of the delicious smell wafting in as possible.
The kids giggle outside my door. “You better run or Auntie Cal is going to get you!” Their little feet patter as they run barefoot down the hallway, giggling the whole way.
We always spend Christmas morning in our jammies, enjoying the company. The fire is burning in the fireplace and Mom or Dad stuffed the stockings and hung them along the mantle. With the family growing so much, their mantle had to be cleared of everything else to make room for so many stockings.
I make my way into the kitchen where someone has made coffee. I can smell some kind of Christmas spice in the air, probably cinnamon and nutmeg. Mom is pulling the cinnamon rolls out of the oven when I come in. I help her ice the top with cream cheese icing. “Morning, sweetie.” She licks icing off the tip of her finger.
“Morning, How’d you sleep? Did you sleep?” I ask. My mother is notorious for staying up late and making sure all the presents are laid out and ready for the rest of us in the morning.
“Stacy and Jen stayed up helping get the gifts ready for the kiddos. We weren’t up too much after you went to bed,” she replies. Judging from the large ring of gifts around the tree, I’d say her timeframe is an exaggeration.
While our family has never believed in spoiling us, my parents made sure we always had something under the tree on Christmas. If they had the money, we would have something to wear, something to read, and then something that we had been really wanting under the tree. Usually some extras there as well. Dad liked to visit the candy store before Christmas, saying, “The kids need to have a treat in their stocking for Christmas.” We all know he just went for himself, but none of us kids were going to say no to the yummy peppermint sticks and other Christmas treats he would bring home.
I help Mom dish cinnamon rolls onto disposable plates. We do not believe in doing all those dishes for the entire family on Christmas. “Kids, breakfast is ready,” I yell into the other room. They come running in, cheeks pink from being outside in the snow.
“Do your mommas know you guys were outside in your jammies?” Mom asks. All the kids look at her, their eyes as big as saucers. Two of them grab her hands and beg her not to tell on them.
“Grab your breakfast and sit at the table. You know Grandma won’t tell on you.” I laugh. When they all vacate the kitchen, I grab a couple of plates and move them to the adult table. I have yet to see any adults except Mom this morning, but I know they’ll be in soon. The call of breakfast is a universal sign it’s about to get crazy up in here.
Right on cue, Andy and Jen come into the room, hand in hand. “Morning, Mom,” Andy says, kissing her on the cheek as he passes to get to his seat.
“Morning, kids,” she responds.
Dad walks in and spins her into a dip before giving her a kiss. “Merry Christmas, my love.”
“Merry Christmas,” she replies, a big smile on her face.
We take our seats and Jake and Stacy enter a few minutes later, whispering and smiling as they take their seats across the table from me.
“Anything from the boy-toy yet?” Jen asks.
I glare at her before answering, “No. And I’d appreciate if you’d stop asking.”
She looks down at her cinnamon roll, cutting off a large bite with her fork and shoving it in. That ought to silence her for a minute. Around the table, I catch a few pitying looks and stare down at my cinnamon roll to avoid any more questions. I don’t dare tell them that Mason isn’t the only reason for the dark circles under my eyes.
The kids finish their breakfast first and immediately come in to beg us to eat faster. They know they aren’t allowed to open presents until everyone is settled in the living room.
“Why don’t you go use the bathroom and we’ll be done by the time you guys are finished?” Stacy suggests. They run off and we’re able to finish our breakfast in peace.
* * *
We’re settled into the living room on the couches and various chairs Dad brought in just for the occasion. Some kids have to sit on the floor in front of the rest of us so we can see what’s happening.
We like to open gifts one at a time so everyone can see what each other got. Starting with the youngest kiddo, Dad plays Santa, handing out gifts to the rest of us and opens all his gifts last.
The littlest ones get dolls, craft stuff, and other educational things along with clothes. The older ones get some kind of handheld gaming systems. They remind me of the days we would play on our Nintendo DSs as kids. Adults get a wider variety of things, books, tools, kitchen appliances, to name a few.
The joy on the faces of the kids is my favorite part. It’s also entertaining when you can tell it’s not something they wanted. Tuck frowns when he opens a package with underwear. You’d think he’d have learned by now that Christmas is the time for new underthings, too.
Once all the presents are opened, and Jake has helped collect all the wrapping paper trash, the kids run off to play with their new toys. The girls head to the table to start on their craft kits.
I help get all the stockings back on the mantle, now empty of their delicious confections and other small goodies.
Around lunchtime, the kids want to go outside and play in the snow again. First, their parents have them get out of their pajamas and into their clothes for the day. Then all the adults help get the kiddos bundled up in their snow gear before the men get suited up to go out and watch the kids. The women stay inside for a little longer to help Mom make the cocoa and get it poured into insulated cups we can take outside and help keep us warm.
The kids come running when we get outside with the warm, chocolaty goodness. There are so many Christmas traditions we cram into the couple of days we’re all together. My brothers and their families will head back to their own homes in the morning. We usually try to get together a few times a year.
My phone chimes with an incoming text.
Huxlee
Me
Huxlee
Me
Huxlee
I set my phone down on the table a moment before I hear, “How are you doing, Callie?” From Jen as she swipes the snow out of the chair beside me and sits down with her cocoa.
“I’m okay,” I reply, both hands wrapped around my cup for warmth.
“I’ve seen you check your phone a few times this morning alone.” She jerks her chin towards the phone sitting beside me. Really she’s asking about Mason without specifically asking since I told her not to this morning.
I shake my head before responding, “I really thought he was different. We seem to have such great conversations. The last time I saw him was good, and I talked to him shortly after. I didn’t think he’d just ghost me.”
“It’s definitely a shitty way to bring in the holidays. I’m sorry, hun.” She reaches across the space between our chairs and wraps her arm around my shoulders.
“Thanks, Jen. I’m sure eventually I’ll find someone who doesn’t make my head spin.” If only she knew.
“Definitely! You’re a great catch. You just need to find the right guy who will appreciate you for who you are. If this guy isn’t the one, you’ll find him.” Jen’s positive attitude makes me feel both better and worst at the same time.
My mind drifts to the other man in my life. I wonder if he were here right now, would the beast be ghosting me as well?
When the kids all have rosy cheeks and noses Rudolph would be jealous of, we all go back inside, unbundle, and sit around the fire to warm up.
Dad grabs stuff for the kids to make s’mores in the fire and we watch as they get marshmallow and chocolate all over their faces, fingers, and the floor. The little ones just eat the chocolate and marshmallows cold. The bigger ones have learned the fine art of roasting a marshmallow to perfection, burnt on the outside, ooey and gooey on the inside.
When they’ve filled their tummies, they sweetly keep bringing finished s’mores to the rest of us. “Auntie Calth, I know theth are your favorite,” Macie says. Her lisp more prominent with the stickiness of the s’mores in her mouth. Jen wanted to wait to have kids for a few years after they got married but, she ended up getting pregnant on their honeymoon. Macie is six, has blonde hair, blue eyes, and the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.
I gratefully take the s’more she offers me and lick off my fingers from the melted marshmallow that ends up all over them.
Mom makes a seafood bog for dinner: crab, shrimp, scallops, brats, corn, and potatoes covered in tons of butter. All of us gather around the large pots on the big dining room table. Christmas dinner is the one meal we all squeeze in around the same table.
Sometime during the day, dad has hung mistletoe over the entry to the dining room. He catches Mom around the waist on one of her trips back and forth from the kitchen and gives her a lingering kiss. Us kids start yelling, “Gross, get a room!” Before they finally break apart, Dad with a smirk on his face when he looks at us. Mom has a wistful look in her eye as she goes back to what she was doing.
After dinner, everyone leaving in the morning packs their things except what they’ll need to get ready first thing. Then we all hug and say goodbye before going to bed. They’ll leave before the rest of us are up to get home at a decent time tomorrow.
I crawl into my bed, turning off my alarm for tomorrow morning before pulling the covers over me and falling asleep.