I grew up in a house bulit with two bedrooms and one bathroom. Somehow we fit our parents and six kids into it. Okay, we never parked a car in the garage, it was immediately converted into a bedroom, then into two while I was in junior high.
We didn't have much back then, but at christmas-time, mom would weave her magic and put presents under the tree. She would make a spot for each of us in the livingroom. Your spot would have a fruits, like an apple and orange. There would be an assortment of shelled nuts and hard candy. You knew it was your place because a present from Santa to you would be sitting there.
I'll always view Christmas through that lense. The beautiful tree, the stack of gifts, the family crammed in one room in our pajamas. Oh yeah, we were allowed to open one gift on xmas eve. It was ALWAYS new PJ's. For the pictures, of course. Mom thought of everything.
We created huge piles of torn wrapping and boxes. A couple of loads had to be taken out before breakfast. Yep, we started real early. We'd eat and fall back to sleep after awhile.
I don't know how mom could afford all those presents and where in the world did she hide them! Six kids worth!
Boy, I miss that.
My next entry will be about my favorite one. And, it wasn't even at home.