Amid the Rush and Ho-Ho-Hos, Mom Finds Joy in Her Baby, Jo

I’m going to take a moment, quick, while the baby’s asleep.

You’ve probably noticed it is Christmas time.

Merry-merry and all that ho-ho-ho.

And it’s my first Christmas with my adopted daughter Johanna who, at 11 months, is just on the verge of walking.

Just in time to pull down the Christmas tree. And with it, this year, a host of Christmas traditions.

I figured Christmas--my favorite time of year--would be one long glory of lights and presents and ribbons and the wonder of the baby’s face as she beheld her first lit-up Christmas tree.

For a month now all my friends have been saying, “This must really be exciting for you: Baby’s first Christmas” or variations on this.

Ho-ho-ho.

To start with, to save money, the Christmas tree is a smaller than usual this year. I didn’t get half the ornaments I own on it, and I set it up on a wicker chest. And as for the lights, when I pulled them out of the box of decorations, none of the strands worked. And they were all those kind where if one bulb is burned out, the whole strand stays dark.

So Jo had to wait a few days for the lit-up tree (I borrowed some lights from my baby-sitter, Betty). But once they were up and I managed to put them around the ornaments, it looked pretty good.

But the baby was asleep by the time I finished and turned on the lights.

At least the tree was up, in time to put out all the Christmas presents that have made my bedroom look like Santa’s warehouse.

Except Jo finds Christmas wrapping and ribbons a lot more exciting to eat than even the cat food right now. So my bedroom still looks like Santa’s warehouse, growing worse each day.

So I’ll leave them there. I can still decorate the living room--except, well, the coffee table is out, and the two end tables, because they are all within the reach of questing fingers.

OK, at least I can do the dining room table in time for my annual Christmas party. Oh, but I can’t put on the Christmas tablecloth because she’ll pull it off and all the decorations with it--and then the cat will have at it in its annual game of kitty pong (ornament hockey) all over the living room floor.

So, I can still wrap Christmas presents during any one of the many Christmas TV specials. You know, spread out there on the rug, with all the wrapping paper . . . and the ribbon . . . Well, OK, I guess I can do that in my bedroom too.

Luckily, I started my Christmas cards early so I could at least do them in increments of time, without feeling too far behind.

There’s always the cookie baking I usually do, but Jo gets cranky and bored in the play pen while I bake, and if I let her out, loose in the living room, it’s kitty pong or worse.

But I can make the batter and bake the cookies later. Like at night. After 9:30 when the baby finally settles down.

But, of course, by then I’m exhausted because Jo is teething right now and wakes up miserable in the middle of the night, sometimes twice.

So, I’m back where I started, with Jo taking one of her erratic naps, but of course, when she naps is when I have to do the regular things like laundry and dishes and general maintenance.

Once again, Christmas is slipping by like an express train. And darn, it is Jo’s first Christmas, and I so wanted to revel in it.

Or at least spend a few moments when the wash of Christmas tree lights, music and the cold night takes my breath away. And my heart too, as I remember all those anticipatory days and nights of my own childhood.

Sighing, I go into the baby’s room. She’s such a little lump under her blankets in the vast white space of the crib. I pull the blankets off her face. And suddenly, the Christmas rush stops.

I gaze at my daughter’s face in the soft glow shed by the night light.

This, indeed, is the best Christmas ever.