All I want for Christmas is some dang peace and quiet

…or at least another hour of sleep


Members of the Heath family on Christmas Eve 2016

Imagine this: it’s Christmas Eve. You’re finally able to fall asleep. But then, after what feels like 5 minutes, you’re woken up by three kids jumping on your bed while another two are at the door yelling at you to get up. The time is 5:13 AM. The kids are, unfortunately, your siblings. In hopes to contain the rowdiness, and possibly catch a few more minutes of sleep, you turn on a Christmas movie in your room until it becomes socially acceptable enough for your parents to allow you to enter the family room and start to open presents.

This is how Christmas begins every single year in the Heath house, opening presents as the sun rises and eating truck loads of chocolate before 8 AM, and probably annoying the heck out of the neighbors with toys that scream Disney songs. The floor has become a sea of wrapping paper and candy wrappers.

There’s no possible way to subdue them for at least another hour so I can sleep — believe me, I’ve tried — and apparently no way to get everyone to put wrapping paper into a trash bag rather than literally everywhere else, but that’s just how it goes in a family with six kids.

Without waking up while Santa is probably still delivering presents to the neighbors, is it really Christmas? Without eating chocolate before breakfast, suffocating in wrapping paper, wearing matching pajamas, asking why Mom and Dad have the same wrapping paper as Santa, and kids so excited they can barely contain themselves (or sleep), is it Christmas?

I love Christmas, and my family, and every crazy weird tradition we’ve adopted over the years. Without all the craziness, it truly would not feel like Christmas, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.