It’s Christmas Eve in our house of six, and I’m taking you along for a truly raw, uncut day—starting with cinnamon rolls for breakfast and letting the kids go wild with sprinkles (and yes, I’m making sure Sean gets to join in too, even if it’s messier, because it’s not fair when the big kids got to do all the fun stuff at his age). Harper is also keeping me on my toes—she’s 7 months and already pulling up to stand, and I’m like… I can’t even come up for air. One milestone after another. We squeeze in a little craft I saw on Instagram: DIY “gingerbread people” photo props. In my brain it’s easy, but Joe is the one doing all the cutting—so we’ll see. Then we pivot our plans and head to vigil Mass on Christmas Eve so Christmas Day can be a super chill, pajama kind of morning at my mom’s house. That’s honestly how our traditions work: we keep them, but they have to stay loose because life changes year to year. At Mimi’s house it’s Cuban-style Noche Buena food, cookie decorating (with a strong “we are NOT licking the icing” rule), Danny Go’s gingerbread cookie dance, and a sweet little moment outside looking for the “North Star” the shepherds followed to find Jesus. We end the night with milk and cookies for Santa, bedtime prayers, and a St. Nicholas “pray for us.”