We Even Missed Santa . . .

Sigh.  Breathe.  It's over.  The relaxation can begin.  I can start my Christmas celebration.

Honestly, I did warn them when they asked me to be in charge of the ward Christmas party.  Although for years I hoped and aspired to be a Martha Stewart-type hostess.  Alas, it is not my strength.  Yet, they didn't have much time left to continue the search for a more appropriate event planner.  So, I reluctantly agreed.  Oh my . . .

200 people.  Breakfast.  Singing.  Entertainment.  Decorations.  Santa.

We survived.  People ate.  There was enough food.  There was singing, piano-playing, guitar-playing, and more singing.  Someone read Thomas Monson's new book, The Christmas Train, to the children.  It was very sweet.

There was one wild little toddler running around and squealing - pretty much the whole event - and trying to crawl onto stage.  Where were that kid's parents???

It would be funnier if I had a picture of said toddler so you could see little Gage's mischievous face.  I was, of course, too busy chasing the little guy and walking in and out of the gym to soften his screams during a beautiful solo of O Holy Night (the tear-inducing kind of rendition) to snap a photo.

Autumn and a few of her friends all sang a rockin' Christmas song together.  She was beyond thrilled. She'd been going back and forth for weeks on what she would sing.  She tries so very hard to fit in with the girls in the neighborhood - who are all one grade and one year ahead of her.  That year makes a difference.

I didn't take a single picture of the gym all decorated and set up.  It's almost as if it never happened.

And . . . my kids missed Santa.  All of the children stood in line and waited for that one last opportunity to tell Santa what they were still hoping for on Christmas morning and snap a photo.  But, not my children.  Not one.  How did that happen?

I took one picture of my favorite detail - the snowflake garland - that spanned the whole room.  This picture doesn't do it justice.  It really was pretty with the overhead lights off and the Christmas tree lights on.

Throwing this party was a little like building a house.  You do your best to think ahead - but, there are so many things that you don't know until it's just too late.  And, then once it's done, it's much easier to recognize what you could have changed to improve it.  Yet . . . you won't have the chance for a do-over . . . which is actually okay by me.

I am not Martha Stewart.  Not even close.

Now . . . back to my normally scheduled Christmas spirit . . . sigh.