Your first Christmas

Well, Baby,
Your first Christmas officially ended yesterday, and while I suspect I was the bud of several jokes for declaring this your first Christmas, you were as present as everyone else (even moreso than your great uncle who was tanked, per usual). Our celebration started at Grandma J's on Christmas Eve. Your Uncle J bought a new camera - very, very nice - so we have a bunch of pictures of your cousins opening their packages. He put the SD card into Grandma J's TV, and we were able to watch a slideshow of the carnage. Next, we went to my Aunt's house. My Grandma decided to spend the holiday in Florida, but my cousins and their spouses were in town, and their big, ridiculous Rottweiler provided the evening's entertainment.
Christmas morning came very early. We volunteered to walk dogs at the animal rescue, along with Grandpa and Grandma B. It was bitter cold, so we were very lucky that a bunch of other volunteers showed up as well. Next, we packed up and went to Grandma B's to open our presents. You received a blanket called a "taggie" from their Massachusettes friends which you are supposed to love because you can play with all of the tags sewn along the edges. Whatever. Then, we hosted dinner - Honey-baked ham at your father's request. Grandma J and the B's came over, and by 7PM, I was shot. Your Grandmothers thoroughly wear me out. We crashed, but your dad had enough energy left to visit with friends from Chicago, and you received even more good loot. Not bad for a fetus, huh?
Yesterday was dinner (sorta) and presents at Grandpa R and K's house. Since he and Grandma J divorced, our holidays have become marathons (not that you will mind as you will be receiving presents at every stop). R&K bought me a bunch of maternity stuff and not a day too soon; according to the websites, you will double in size in the next two weeks. Go, Baby X! Your father got some car stuff, and your cousins were crazy happy once again. Your Aunt H received the Cadillac of food processors because she's making her own pasta right now (among other things); it's just that she is not a very good cook (yet) and I'm suspecting the Kitchen Aid may giver her a false sense of her culinary skills. Me? I'm Cuisinart for what it's worth.
For all of our faults, I realized a wonderful thing: every person we saw already loves you. A bunch. Just wait until next year . . .