Finally!

I've had five boxes of Christmas decorations in my dining room since the weekend before Thanksgiving. Two more boxes sit, unopened, in the kid's playroom downstairs.

My original plan was to have everything up and done the weekend before Thanksgiving, because I knew we'd be too busy to do anything over Thanksgiving.

Bruce did his part. He pulled the tree out of the box. He strung the lights.

And then all holiday decorating ceased.

From the street, at night, our home looked respectably decorated. The necessary outline of an evergreen tree highlighted with clear lights. (We did colored lights last year for the kids. And I discovered that I've become a light snob... I only like the white lights on a tree now.)

Every day since Bruce put the tree up, the kids have begged to decorate it. But someone was either not feeling well or we were running somewhere or we were out of town.

I have had zero Christmas spirit so far this year. I'm overwhelmed by all the "stuff" of the holiday. This year before the boxes get put back up, I'm paring down what I have and getting rid of some stuff.

I am tired of stuff. It takes too much time to drag it out, put it up, pull it back down and store it again.

Today, for the second day in a row, I was in Allison's classroom, helping the kids do their Christmas crafts. And that's where the Christmas spirit found me. With those kids. Surrounded by Elmer's glue. Messy, but merry.

Let me clarify that when I say Christmas spirit, I actually mean the superficial junk surrounding our blessed holiday. I do not mean that I was not involved in the knowledge of the upcoming birthday of my Savior. I've got that kind of Spirit all year long. And I don't need cranberry or pine-scented candles to invoke it.

His presence is real to me. If not for every single moment of the day, at least for most of my moments every single day.

After guiding kindergartners gluing snowflakes on an Oriental Trading Post foam picture frame, I was feeling ready to tackle the job of tree decorating. And for me it is a job. I don't always enjoy it.

Partly because our fake tree is anemic. Just a fraction better than this real deal.



I never like how it looks post decorating. That might have something to do with the stinkin' holiday issue of Southern Living arriving at my house right around the time our tree is put up. Maybe. Probably.

I also don't enjoy the help of my little elves when putting up the tree decorations. I know that sounds terrible to admit. Whatever. Label me a bad mom if you wish. (I also do not enjoy cooking with my kids. Put another nail in the coffin of superior motherhood for me.)

Today, I came up with a genius idea. No, really. It worked that well for me.

I banned the kids from the dining room and told them I'd call them to decorate the tree when I was ready. Then I opened up the boxes, one at a time, and pulled out each decoration before deciding which pile it would go into on the dining room table: Clay's, Spencer's or Allison's.

No bickering over who hangs what.

Then I called them all into the dining room and let them have at it. And they did a great job. No fighting. No stress. It's done. And I didn't have to do it. (Well, except for hanging a few breakable ornaments on the high parts of the tree.)

(Update: The following picture was actually taken the morning after they decorated the tree. It was too dark for me to get a good picture the night they decorated. Bruce could have done it, but I haven't played with our camera enough to get it right.)



This little plan is a keeper for me. Until they're old enough to go through the boxes themselves and hang all the decorations their precious hearts desire. At that point, I'll sit in the den with a mug of hot tea and wait for them to call me into the dining room to show me their masterpiece.

I can dream.

The last 24 hours have been a sweet reprieve from stress for me. Courtesy of Jesus, I'm certain.

I had a bad morning yesterday. A combination of stress, what looked like another looming case of strep that just turned out to be a cold it seems, hormones, lack of sleep, irritation over some stuff at home and disappointment over some extended family situations.

Before I dropped the kids off at school, I had a fit over something not working easily for me, cried in frustration (which made Allison cry along and Spencer giggle. Night and day kids!), prayed and asked my kids to forgive me, too. I led my group of ladies at BSF feeling like the worst parent, spouse and Christian. Before lunch, I called Bruce and apologized to him because, even though he didn't witness it, I vented out loud in front of the kids some of my frustration with him being gone in the evenings, working on the fixer-upper house.

I ran around doing errands after BSF until going up to the school for the first craft day with Allison's class. Then all three kiddos came home with me. While Bruce was driving home from work, I called him on the cell and asked him if we could skip Awanas and church and just have a normal evening at home alone with the kids, doing nothing.

Bruce is a good, wise man. He can pick up on notes of hysteria in the voice of his wife when she calls on the verge of tears.

So we relaxed last night. The whole fam. It was bliss. Balm-for-my-soul kind of stuff.

And this morning, I didn't have to set my alarm for anything. Yay! Bruce and Clay ate breakfast quietly, alone. And I woke up around the time that Spencer and Allison did.

God is good to me.

Icing on the cake? I got to meet Bruce for lunch. Salsarita's followed by a visit to Lowe's. Awww... how romantic.

During our mid-day date, Bruce got a call from his dad who was down the road at another Lowe's. He had found the pre-lit, on-sale Christmas tree Bruce was wanting and picked it up for us. Once we pay him back, we'll pack that baby away until next year.

This evening after the tree was decorated, I took the kids out to look at Christmas lights. And the best part wasn't the lights, although they were great.

We saw a family of six deer in one neighborhood and a very large buck in another neighborhood (he actually scared me a little bit because I was rubber-necking to look at lights and then there he was, right in front of my van and we were still moving in his direction before I tapped the brakes and he pranced off. Because that's what all deer do. Prance. I love deer.)

Count me as officially decompressed.

Now it's time for me to get the kids nestled all snug in their beds so they can dream about some figgy pudding... or St. Nick... or a new Nintendo DS with a Kung Fu Panda game. Something like that.

Merry Christmas!