Post written by James Matthews
December 24, 2024. 11:25 a.m.
There’s packing the car with a baby, then there’s packing the car with a baby for Christmas. Presents, overnight bags, strollers—I felt like I needed Santa’s sleigh.
I always say Christmas is the time of year where I revert to being a kid. So, it’s fitting that we are packing to head to the house that I grew up in. My wife Katie and I spend Christmas at her parents’ place, so my parents host on Christmas Eve.
It’s a well-attended affair, so much so that my dad has to pull extra tables and chairs out from the basement to make a mega table that extends past the dining room and into the living room. It gave me one of my favourite sights of my first Christmas with Louie: her highchair at the head of the holiday table.
She made the most of her position of power, delighting everyone with games of peekaboo and rounds of applause—two skills that have truly flourished as she entered her tenth month. Then, out of nowhere, she burst into tears mid-applause. Nap time. Luckily, she woke up happy.
Flashback to December 14, 2024. 12:02 p.m.
Katie’s parents are well-known for being generous with their home and its multiple ovens and most of our holidays are spent there. They are so welcoming that my family and my brother in-law’s family have always been on the guest-list, not just once the “in-law” part was solidified.
Almost always, a kids table would form. No plastic furniture needed here, though, the youngest being in his early-twenties. It felt like an oasis (sorry, mom), a place where you could cultivate the relationships of those closest generationally.
These holiday gatherings, usually held during a baby’s witching hour, have dried up in the Louie era for valid reasons (but I missed those kid’s table moments).
So, Katie and I got the band back together—far away from the hoopla of the holidays and the whines of witching hour. We hosted a lunch and called it Kid’s Christmas, which was a deceptive name. When I told my mom that Katie and I were hosting Kid’s Christmas, she thought I meant a gathering of all the babies we knew, not a generational hang that boasted the young adult demographic—and two infant “plus ones”.
December 25, 2024. 9:15 a.m.
My sister-in-law asked me, “What’s your favourite Christmas memory, James?” I have a cousin who is a few months older than me. He’s also an only child, so our bond is more that of siblings. Growing up, we would spend the days after Christmas in full sleepover mode, playing the new games we got or making home videos or sledding in those rare West Coast White Christmases.
Those compiled, form my favourite Christmas memory. And my new favourite memory from this Christmas was seeing Louie embark on that path. She, too, has a cousin a few months apart. It’s not even a year in and they light up when they see each other, share toys—even offer caring looks when the other cries. They too got to spend that week of Christmas in full sleepover mode. And, if their parents’ relationships are inspiring enough, they too will feel like brother and sister. Maybe one day they’ll host Kid’s Christmas without me. I can’t wait for that day.
December 25, 2024. 7:17 p.m.
We had hit that inevitable point in Christmas Day when ten hours of eating, drinking, and socializing call for a post-game analysis. Like athletes poring over game footage, we dove into the Xs and Os of Cheerios, new toys, and old memories.
In this scenario, the “athletes” were rookies—first-time parents, first-time grandparents, and first-time Christmasers—thrown together under one roof from Christmas Eve through the day after Boxing Day. Remarkably, we pitched a perfect game: no tantrums, no meltdowns, no acting out. Truly impressive.
December 26, 2024. 8:09 a.m.
Grandparents are the best! It might not be the most whimsical tradition, but a big one for us is Boxing Day shopping—trekking across a pair of bridges from Surrey to West Vancouver. We leave at the same time, park in the same stall, hit the same stores, eat the same food—pretty much clockwork for the better part of a decade.
With kiddos in the mix this year, I thought it would look a little different. Kids and the clock are frenemies. Louie’s grandparents stepped up to take care of the kiddos, which felt like a major load off and a nice break for us.
We did truncate the shopping trip a little bit and left far more detailed instructions and timestamps for the Grandparents, which used to just be when and where to meet for happy hour. It felt so important to lean into traditions, or at least a new version of them.
December 27, 2024. 8:36 p.m.
It took me longer to unpack after our few days at Katie’s parents than it did for me to unpack after our few weeks in Europe. It all felt like a blur. In a way, the holiday season is reminiscent of early postpartum—that 4th trimester. You don’t know what day it is. You’re tired, but happy.You eat a lot. You, at least in our case, are surrounded by family. I had time off from work.
It was fun to be reminded of that again, especially considering we’re coming up on Louie’s first birthday in a couple of months. I think most of all though, in a year where so much changed, it felt so nice to have some traditions to fall back on and to make new ones of our own.
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