Dressed in their Christmas jammies time stands still. It’s as if they always lived under this roof, instead of just breezing in to visit from college, or life in the real world. In their Christmas jammies next to the tree, they are little children again, festive and happy and excitedly waiting for Christmas. 
I love these Christmas jammies. I’ve ordered these and other Christmas jammies from Burt’s Bees the past few years. They are beautiful. They are luxurious. They are made from organic cotton, so they are super soft. And they just make Christmas complete.
The “kids” put the last, saved just for when they get home, ornaments onto the tree. Recite favorite lines from the movie, Elf. Eat their body weight in Chex Mix and Christmas cookies, laugh, reminisce, joke around, and giggle while “face swapping” on their phones for the gazillionith time.
They spent the night before sprawled out on the living room floor, wrapping presents. Paper and tape strewn all around, while the “vintage” Berenstain Bears Christmas movie played on repeat. Now they add their gifts to the tree, jockeying for the best position so the gifts they give get chosen first (read more about how we handle kids Holiday spending here).
We pose for pictures. It’s tradition. All of us in our jammies.
The sibling height line. Jason and I pose together. Well we tried. We were going to have this sweet, sappy picture of us kissing under the mistletoe, except that as we leaned in to kiss I said, “you definitely smell like garlic.”
And then I got the giggles. And we never did get a good picture. But when my youngest said, “it’s okay, Mom, it’s just unmastered,” I felt God reminding me that it’s not going to be about being perfect. Or even the illusion of perfection. It is about being real.
And being unmastered.
And it is Christmas. And it is family. And it is love.
Unmastered 
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