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They’re a handful alright, and tonight more than ever as mommy and I try to get them settled. Christmas Eve is also our unofficially official anniversary.
It’s the night I claimed her as my soul mate. The night we both know that little Jane was made, but it’s also the night we never stopped feeling the way we do about each other.
Not for a single minute, so it’s special for both of us to relive it every year.
Out of the city for the first time with the whole tribe, we figure it’s time to start showing the babies our Aspen house too. A getaway I only ever used a couple of times single, it makes for the perfect family getaway. Especially when there’s a near blizzard blowing and nothing else to do but snuggle and have all the warmth of Christmas, log fires, and tree lights all rolled into one magical week long adventure.
The view down to the valley is usually clear, but today the snow’s piled up to the sills and the sky so thick with it, it looks like a snow dome.
“It sure is beautiful out there,” Avery observes, rocking baby Ridley in her arms. I’m on the couch with a nodding Jane on my lap.
“It sure is,” tell her, remembering her that first day. Remembering how every moment since has stayed the same.
Just that feeling. This glow inside that makes me anxious to sleep sometimes, in case I wake up one day and find it all a dream.
But it’s not a dream, this is real. And as Avery turns to see me checking out her ass instead of the view she raises a brow.
“Kids are almost down for the count,” she whispers, and I’m already nodding in agreement.
Our unspoken, secret code that we speak with our eyes.
We love our kids, adore them beyond anything else.
But we also love each other just as much. And mommy and daddy time, our special time alone is still just as important as the time we give our beautiful babies.
But today, there’s something else in Avery’s eyes, like she wants to share something before we have our afternoon nap.
A look I’ve only seen a couple of times, and one I’ll never tire of.
“It’s not too early for presents?” she asks softly, checking baby Riley’s sleeping and kissing his head as she put him in the bassinet by the couch followed by Jane into hers before she sits on my lap.
“Now, who’s the one with all the secrets and surprises?” I ask, pecking her lips, feeling her warmth on me.
Hoping like I shouldn’t that I’ll get my extra Christmas wish like I have every year so far.
My wife never disappoints.
Like she just knew it would be this way, she produces her little wrapped gift from under the couch on her side, and I in turn take out mine.
We eased off the gift giving of ‘things’ pretty early on. My wife knows she can have anything she wants and I have her, so we’re pretty much even.
When the kids get older it may be a little bit of a different story but for now, it’s little token gifts here and there.
This year is different though, I think.
Because we both just know.
I know her mood well enough, all the telltale signs and she knows my early starts are never for nothing.
“You first,” she says bashfully, but I’m shaking my head firmly.
“No way, this one first,” I demand, noting the difference in size of my parcel compared to hers.
I’ve never been so nervous, or proud as when she’s peeling the paper off.
It’s a picture frame. Nothing spectacular about that, but I taught myself wood shop 101 and almost got it perfect. From learning to hold a hammer to carving all their initials by hand.
One of those segmented frames, with a picture in each. Each one holds a picture of Avery sleeping with one each and then both of our babies.
One space left deliberately empty.
“Oh, Jack!” she says, kissing me while trying not to cry. But I think we’re already both halfway there.
“It’s just so beautiful, I’ll treasure it… we all will, won’t we?” she sniffs.
“With room for more to come,” I add, pointing out the slotted grooves for the place new frames can be added. The start of our own family tree.
“Each type of wood is for the season, or the month of our baby,” I explain, proud of the fact I managed some hardwoods with some really tricky soft ones in one project.
“Now,” I announce, as loud as I dare. “Time for Jack’s Christmas gift,” hearing my own voice break, my heart pounding hard against my ribs and a lump in my throat.
Third time around. I just know it.
It’s wrapped in the same paper, an oblong box.
Like something for a watch or jewelry.
But my Avery knows I’m not interested in jewels or watches much.
