Thursday, December 11, 2025 – Day 485
Thursday, December 11, 2025
Good morning, everyone. 14 days until Christmas! 🎄
Last night’s sleep worked out perfectly. We went to bed a little anxious after the recent feeding-tube “leaking” event—the one that left formula soaking the rug, the floor, and the HVAC system. Honestly, we should’ve called a disaster-recovery team. That stuff dries stickier than Elmer’s glue.
This time, though, the pump didn’t finish early. We adjusted the rate downward, and by 4:00 a.m. there were still a couple of ounces left in the bag. I’ll take it—much better than having the whole thing wrapped up at 3:00 a.m. And best of all? We both slept straight through the night. No midnight pee breaks… just eight solid hours of actual, blissful rest.
Christmas at 1922 Let’s switch back to Christmas at 1922—the Snarski home from 1968 through 2016. For the first decade at 1922, Christmas morning was just the eight of us kids. We’d jump out of bed early, buzzing with excitement, but our “first activity” (also known as the chore cleverly disguised as devotion) was early Mass at St. Anastasia Catholic Church. We were supposed to keep the birth of Jesus top of mind… meanwhile, all I could think about were the presents sitting under that tree.
The gathering spot before church was always the kitchen. There were two ways to get there.
- Front staircase — which forced you to walk through the living room, where all the presents were begging to be peeked at. It was off-limits.
- Back circular staircase — which delivered you straight to the kitchen, sans temptation.
We were told to use the back stairs. But… the triplet bedroom—my bedroom—was right next to the front stairs. And in the chaos of eight kids getting dressed for church, who would notice one little sneak down the “wrong” staircase? Let’s just say my curiosity routinely beat my obedience.
Once everyone finally made it to the kitchen, it was time to pile all ten of us (eight kids + mom and dad) into two cars and head to church. My parents liked to arrive early so they could claim the 2nd pew, directly in front of the pulpit. That hour felt like the longest hour of the entire year. I sit here today and still wonder what I took away from those moments. I know what I was supposed to take away…I just never felt it.
When Mass was over, the anticipation only climbed. Back at 1922, breakfast came next. Cooking for ten is no joke, so nothing happened quickly. More waiting. More anguish.
By the time we finally made it into the living room, it was late morning. The first challenge was finding a seat. Squeezing ten people into one space without triggering a meltdown was its own Christmas miracle.
The Slowest Gift-Opening Process Known to Humankind First up: stockings. That alone took 30–45 minutes. Only after the stockings were emptied, examined, and rehung could we move on to the main event: presents.
And here’s where your patience was truly tested.
We were a one-present-at-a-time family. Imagine ten people opening gifts… one by one… all morning long. Some siblings were the “careful unwrap” type—slowly peeling tape, trying to preserve the wrapping paper like it was a family heirloom. Torture.
The ritual stretched from late morning into mid-afternoon. It was fantastic when it was your turn. When it wasn’t—well, let’s just say the excitement occasionally wore thin. But Mom and Dad never wavered. Christmas was not going to be rushed. Not on their watch.
By 2:00 or 3:00, everyone was completely spent. You’d gather your gifts (mostly new clothes), find a quiet spot, and collapse into a much-needed nap.
The Expansion Years Starting in 1978, the headcount began to grow. Lis was the first to marry, bringing Steve into the fun. Then came the first grandchild, Katy. As each sibling married and had children, the ritual continued—still one present at a time, though we had to speed things up just a bit to avoid drifting into evening.
Midnight Mass replaced morning Mass, and for those who were no longer living at home, church became… let’s call it “optional.” Each year, everyone still returned to 1922. Lis and Steve brought their family of five from the East Coast. Sarah and her family of four came in from the West Coast. The rest of us were local, making the trip easy.
Christmas Day eventually peaked at 30-plus people. At that point, managing the crowd felt like hosting a summit meeting. But oh, it was fun. And it gave the grandkids a shared set of memories that still glow today.
Have a great Thursday. Love you guys!❤️
