But Christmas Day itself? Might have been one of my least favourite days of the year.
It wasn't that the holiday didn't feel special. It was always an amazing, spiritually meaningful day in my family. We looked forward to the wondrous spectacle of Christmas morning Mass, followed by lunch with friends and family. And every photo taken during that time will testify to how happy I looked opening my many, many presents.
But I always remember feeling emotionally drained by day's end, like an actor who has run through the same show too many times.
As it was each year when I was a child, before the family could get to the business of being shiny, happy people, the day would inevitably begin with some sort of unnecessary drama before we went to Christmas Mass. The fuss usually involved forces beyond my parents' control and is something way too complicated to get into in just a couple of paragraphs.
But trimming the tree and the whole run-up to the big shebang? I liked that just fine. It was neutral territory for everyone at our house. No arguments or emotional baggage. Just a bunch of tinsel and some plain ol' fun.
When you live away from family for a good long time, when distance dulls memories and tempers big, bad feelings, you begin to appreciate moments like these.
You remember that a family has the ability to come together and start afresh - to make things work.
You also gain emotional clarity. For instance, being away and raising my own child made me realise that my parents have always been the very definition for me of what family is and what family does. No matter how strong the adversity, or difficult the challenge, Dad and Mum held strong to their personal and religious beliefs, yet they remained patient, forgiving and sensitive to others.
During my first stint overseas with Mr HWNN, we always made sure to be home for Christmas and Chinese New Year. For me, it was important to be with my folks at these times because it meant alot to them to have us all together. Whatever residual memories I had of those difficult early years, I shoved them aside to have a good time with the people I hold dear, and to give my older daughter Sweet Pea the peaceful Yuletide that I longed for when I was her age.
What I never realised then, was the luxury of having any sort of emotional family upheaval to begin with. I mean, the very fact that I could experience Christmas each year with kin was a blessing that my silly younger self took for granted.
I was blind to the fact that no matter what sort of insane soap opera we might have been drawn into so long ago, we were all still together, we could still physically reach out to each other after, to mend fences, and most importantly, to show love.
Because there are folks out there who would probably give an arm and a leg to be with their families during the holidays, emotional baggage or no.
There are a good number of military men and women living in my neck of the woods in Arizona. Several of whom I now call friends and neighbours.
In the last year, I've met people whose spouses have been shipped off to Iraq for tours of duty, or neighbours who've returned from fighting in Afghanistan. Neighbours with toddlers the same age as my younger daughter Pumpkin.
And so, suddenly, the world spins into perspective.
These folks volunteer to put their lives on the line for their country. But I'll bet anything they would rather be spending the holidays surrounded by their loved ones. And every day, I am simply in awe of the incredible strength, resilience and grace their families members show, just going about their lives.
The few emotional barbs I might still remember from the ancient past absolutely pales in comparison to the sacrifices these folks face each day.
Last Christmas was the first I've had to spend away from Singapore. It was the first time ever that Sweet Pea didn't have her grandparents, uncles and aunts to fuss over her. And it was the first time ever that I spent Christmas morning speaking with my parents on Skype, rather than face-to-face.
It was the strangest thing, to be so excited about living in this new place, with so much potential for new experiences, yet teary at the prospect of going through the rituals of that big day without the two people who have always made it special.
Add to that their ill health over the years and I was wrecked with guilt for not giving my folks another Christmas with the grandkids.
But this year, something shifted. Perspective, as I mentioned, was gained.
As Mr HWNN, the kids and I were trimming our skinny little tree, I realised two things: One, even if my parents aren't here in Arizona with me, they still are. I see their expressions and mannerisms every day, reflected in my older child.
My family is with me. My children. My husband. I am immensely thankful for that fact.
The other thing I realised: Even if returning home is something beyond my control at the moment, and the kids are homesick as can be, I can take that feeling of helplessness and turn it into something good, the way my parents (and my new neighbours) have taught me, and teach my children patience and resilience.
Even though we can't physically reach out and hug grandpa and grandma, we are not bereft of solutions.
So we'll probably talk online Christmas morning rather than over one of my Mum's famous Christmas feasts.
We'll take this short time apart to learn more about the world, so we have stories to tell grandma and grandpa when we return. We'll take this time to miss one another a little more and learn to appreciate the role of family in our lives.
Chances are, this time next year, we'll be together again. And whatever craziness that might come along with it, will come. I'll embrace every second of it. Because I've come to terms with the reality that my family and drama go together over the holidays. Like a tree and tinsel. Sure, I could do without that sparkly stuff, but then I'd have a very quiet, boring tree. And who the heck wants that?
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