Christmastime Is Here
Now that I'm home from Seattle and the mom drama and a work trip to Charlotte, North Carolina, I feel like Christmastime has officially started.
I'm one of those people who LOVES Christmas. The problem is that I find myself seeking the same happy-happy-joy-joy that Christmas elicited in my youth, which is a bit of a struggle when you know Santa is fake, your workload quadruples because you're the mommy, and the whole event is taking place on the coast opposite of your childhood home.
Last year was a rough one. I missed my family, I was overwhelmed with the constant tasks and events (each of which OF COURSE needed a dish or dessert prepared for it), and there was no downtime.
Next year would be better, I vowed.
And it has been. I'm hanging on by a thread at times, but so far, it's better. Again, I missed the town lighting, but this time it was because I was traveling for work. And again, I lost the argument to get just ONE tree. That was a pretty big loss, considering that we must get two REAL trees. Chris grew up celebrating Christmas at Lake Tahoe; I'm from the Pacific Northwest.
We. Do. Not. Believe. In. Fake. Trees.
Despite losing the one tree vs. two trees argument, here are my plans to simplify: Instead of two back-to-back, over-the-top Christmas feasts (on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day), I dug in my heels and INSISTED on soup and bread on Christmas Eve. Simplicity. Chris agreed and then started searching for the most complicated soup recipe he can find. GAH. And of course, he'll make the bread from scratch.
I've also cut down on the activities I'm attending, especially those "bring a dish to share!" things. The church Christmas party and daycare holiday party made the potluck cut. Nothing else.
Charlotte and I went to the Nordstrom holiday party for this time this year (last year it snowed and I didn't dare risk driving). We had a girl date, eating a fancy-pants dinner together before and then shopping. It was a nice, simple Christmasy outing.
We also did The Nutcracker again this year, as I sooooooo enjoyed taking her last year. This time, we went with her BFF from school and her mom, and the girls loved donning their Christmas dresses. Alas, Charlotte's feet started cramping from her dress shoes (or so I was told) and much wailing ensued during the pas de deux. So, we made a run for it.
And Chris and I hired a babysitter, so I (ahem, WE) could listen to the Lessons and Carols concert I so adore WITHOUT a small child shouting "I HAVE TO GO POTTY!" after a particularly poignant rendition of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. Yeah, I learned THAT lesson last year. Lordy.
Lastly, Chris and I maintained our Love, Actually night, though we've struggled with it the past couple years. Last year, it got caught in a dicey weekend, and the year before, Lorelei was about 2 months old and cried through most of it. The kids went to bed early and we had a cozy night of movie watching and wine.
Oh, and we unexpectedly attended at gala at the Kennedy Center. Yeah, that's getting it's own post, believe you me.
Overall, I'm TRYING. I'm trying to get the tasks done and also enjoy the season. To accept imperfection, disengage from that which detracts from the specialness of Christmas, to risk the girls breaking the ceramic nativity scene as they set it up, because how else will they learn about Christmas?
I'm trying to hang onto the special, unexpected moments rather than exhausting myself to stage A Joyful, Christmas-Filled Moment. Like when Charlotte burst into twirly dance when Emmylou Harris's "Christmas Time's a'Comin" came on---the exact song my brother and I used to spin to in front of the tree (though we had listened to it VIA RECORD). Or when, while decorating the tree, Charlotte held up a pretty star ornament.
"Mommy, is this the star?"
"Yes, it's a star," I said.
"No, is it THE star?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Is this the star they followed to find baby Jesus in the manger with the hay?"
Or overhearing Charlotte tell Lorelei all about Santa, or her thoughtfully helping me pick out toys for local kids whose parents are struggling. Or the girls doing their advent calendars with chocolate, which their Omi got them. They are LOVING doing this each night.
The other night, we ate separately from the girls--a nice steak dinner and wine. "I felt like I haven't seen you the past 3 weeks," Chris said, and it was mostly true. We used candles. We even used the crystal glasses. We took our time. We LOOKED at each other. Then, post dishes and taking out Emma, we settled into the living room, where the grown-up tree is (decorated in golds, browns, silvers, and coppers), and I played some Christmas music on the piano while Chris gazed at the tree, drank his wine, and spent a bit more time than is healthy fiddling on his phone.
The other night, Chris went to bed and I stayed downstairs in front of the fire, finishing my tea, listening to Emma snore next to me, reading a little, and gazing at my unevenly decorated (the girls helped) family room Christmas tree.
It's those moments, cut out from the bustle, alight in the glow of Christmas trees (yes, plural) that let me catch my breath. Don't get me wrong--I love so much of the bustle, too. My girls twirling happily to Christmas music, non-holiday holiday work parties, baking, gift giving, Christmas music everywhere you turn. The excess can have its charms.
But my, a nice cup of tea and a quiet, glowing house is very, very nice, too.
 |
| Whenever I get home from being gone for a bit, the girls get a tad clingy. I spent this particular evening as their chair. But of course nothing brings me greater joy than having arms full of my girlies. |
I'm one of those people who LOVES Christmas. The problem is that I find myself seeking the same happy-happy-joy-joy that Christmas elicited in my youth, which is a bit of a struggle when you know Santa is fake, your workload quadruples because you're the mommy, and the whole event is taking place on the coast opposite of your childhood home.
Last year was a rough one. I missed my family, I was overwhelmed with the constant tasks and events (each of which OF COURSE needed a dish or dessert prepared for it), and there was no downtime.
Next year would be better, I vowed.
And it has been. I'm hanging on by a thread at times, but so far, it's better. Again, I missed the town lighting, but this time it was because I was traveling for work. And again, I lost the argument to get just ONE tree. That was a pretty big loss, considering that we must get two REAL trees. Chris grew up celebrating Christmas at Lake Tahoe; I'm from the Pacific Northwest.
We. Do. Not. Believe. In. Fake. Trees.
 |
| Family selfie: On the hayride truck to get our two trees at the tree farm. It was FREEZING. So, naturally, Lorelei removed her mittens. And yes, that's a Seahawks hat under my hood. Obviously. |
Despite losing the one tree vs. two trees argument, here are my plans to simplify: Instead of two back-to-back, over-the-top Christmas feasts (on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day), I dug in my heels and INSISTED on soup and bread on Christmas Eve. Simplicity. Chris agreed and then started searching for the most complicated soup recipe he can find. GAH. And of course, he'll make the bread from scratch.
I've also cut down on the activities I'm attending, especially those "bring a dish to share!" things. The church Christmas party and daycare holiday party made the potluck cut. Nothing else.
Charlotte and I went to the Nordstrom holiday party for this time this year (last year it snowed and I didn't dare risk driving). We had a girl date, eating a fancy-pants dinner together before and then shopping. It was a nice, simple Christmasy outing.
We also did The Nutcracker again this year, as I sooooooo enjoyed taking her last year. This time, we went with her BFF from school and her mom, and the girls loved donning their Christmas dresses. Alas, Charlotte's feet started cramping from her dress shoes (or so I was told) and much wailing ensued during the pas de deux. So, we made a run for it.
And Chris and I hired a babysitter, so I (ahem, WE) could listen to the Lessons and Carols concert I so adore WITHOUT a small child shouting "I HAVE TO GO POTTY!" after a particularly poignant rendition of O Come, O Come, Emmanuel. Yeah, I learned THAT lesson last year. Lordy.
Lastly, Chris and I maintained our Love, Actually night, though we've struggled with it the past couple years. Last year, it got caught in a dicey weekend, and the year before, Lorelei was about 2 months old and cried through most of it. The kids went to bed early and we had a cozy night of movie watching and wine.
Oh, and we unexpectedly attended at gala at the Kennedy Center. Yeah, that's getting it's own post, believe you me.
Overall, I'm TRYING. I'm trying to get the tasks done and also enjoy the season. To accept imperfection, disengage from that which detracts from the specialness of Christmas, to risk the girls breaking the ceramic nativity scene as they set it up, because how else will they learn about Christmas?
I'm trying to hang onto the special, unexpected moments rather than exhausting myself to stage A Joyful, Christmas-Filled Moment. Like when Charlotte burst into twirly dance when Emmylou Harris's "Christmas Time's a'Comin" came on---the exact song my brother and I used to spin to in front of the tree (though we had listened to it VIA RECORD). Or when, while decorating the tree, Charlotte held up a pretty star ornament.
"Mommy, is this the star?"
"Yes, it's a star," I said.
"No, is it THE star?" she asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Is this the star they followed to find baby Jesus in the manger with the hay?"
Or overhearing Charlotte tell Lorelei all about Santa, or her thoughtfully helping me pick out toys for local kids whose parents are struggling. Or the girls doing their advent calendars with chocolate, which their Omi got them. They are LOVING doing this each night.
The other night, we ate separately from the girls--a nice steak dinner and wine. "I felt like I haven't seen you the past 3 weeks," Chris said, and it was mostly true. We used candles. We even used the crystal glasses. We took our time. We LOOKED at each other. Then, post dishes and taking out Emma, we settled into the living room, where the grown-up tree is (decorated in golds, browns, silvers, and coppers), and I played some Christmas music on the piano while Chris gazed at the tree, drank his wine, and spent a bit more time than is healthy fiddling on his phone.
 |
| My grown-up tree. If I have to decorate two trees, you'd better believe that the grown-up tree will be done MY way. I actually really love this tree, so it's POSSIBLE that Chris was right in insisting on two trees this year. |
It's those moments, cut out from the bustle, alight in the glow of Christmas trees (yes, plural) that let me catch my breath. Don't get me wrong--I love so much of the bustle, too. My girls twirling happily to Christmas music, non-holiday holiday work parties, baking, gift giving, Christmas music everywhere you turn. The excess can have its charms.
But my, a nice cup of tea and a quiet, glowing house is very, very nice, too.
 |
| Family room tree. |
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