Friday, December 26, 2008

the aftermath

It's the day after.
The day after the Son is born.
The day after the big fat guy in a furry red suit comes down the chimney. 
The day after the kids have blown through their presents like whirling dervishes.
The day after a huge dinner that was surprisingly easy to cook this year.
The day after we spend the entire day in our pajamas - except for Monkey, who changed from the old pajamas she slept in to the new Hannah Montana pajamas she got from Mawmaw and Pawpaw.
This is the day after.
This is the day Trey takes the opened and destroyed boxes to recycling.
This is the day Trey shops for a new TV for the bedroom (this has been a long... discussion... between us and I finally gave up).
This is the day that Trey witnessed two men arguing and road-raging; the Christmas spirit must be gone.
This is the day that I make a dog and cat food run to the grocery store.
This is the day that I get the kids OUT of the house no matter what.
This is the day that the tree is coming DOWN because I'm tired of Little Man breaking ornaments and of the cats peeing on the paper underneath it. 
This is the day that the Lord has made;  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24


Julie said...

Kool Aid? That was just beautiful. The commotion and joy of real life and then neatly tying it up with the peaceful gratitude that is the foundation for it all. Gratitude, oh my, makes everything so... so... beautiful. Even the discussion. ;)

Kool Aid said...

Thank you, Julie! It's funny, it was just one of those posts that the writing just flowed through my fingers. It took me longer to look up where in Psalms the verse was than to write the whole thing.

Yeah, even the discussion is beautiful, especially now that it's over ;).

Tara said...

The day after never seems to come here.
It seems to be Christmas every day (that's what my 6 year old would have me believe anyway!)
He's keeps saying 'can you phone Santa and tell him that next year . . . '

Kool Aid said...

I haven't gotten any special requests for next year's visit from Santa. Monkey, for once, seems to be sated. I'm sure it won't be long, though, before she starts asking for more things...