By Laurie Higgins
Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering.
As wonderful as Christmas Day is, for me it takes second place to December 26th -- otherwise known around our house as Pajama Day. It's a tradition that came into being entirely by accident about ten years ago during a particularly hectic holiday season.
That year, Christmas Eve found my husband Steve and me staying up until close to dawn, wrapping presents and preparing for Christmas with our four kids. Just as our heads hit the pillow, the door to our two younger children's bedroom opened and we heard them sneak out. I took a nap to the sound of their excited whispers.
Christmas Day at our home is one long and joyous celebration that includes a revolving cast of family members from both sides that arrive in shifts. We host a breakfast for eight to twelve people, with a break for clean-up and showers, and then begin prepping for dinner for up to twenty-five people.
I was so exhausted I found myself dozing off, head propped in hand, while sitting at the dining room table over shrimp cocktail and artichoke dip at 3:00 in the afternoon. Luckily my chef husband was in charge of dinner because I simply couldn't do it.
The next day, while poor Steve headed to work, I slept late and then curled up on the couch with the new novel he had given me for Christmas. The kids played quietly with their toys and it was a lovely day all around. When Steve came home, I was still in my pajamas and we had leftovers for dinner. The day ended with me finishing the novel in front of a crackling fire.