We got our Christmas tree up. It gave my husband a rash on his arms after he cut it down and carried it in. Oh, yeah… we forgot that variety does that. We got the same one a couple of years ago. We should probably write that down somewhere.
We walked around for a good 45 minutes to an hour to find a tree, after the boys left us to go sled down the hill after five minutes of looking. I had found a tree I liked, and the boys agreed they liked too, after four minutes. This was a dramatic improvement from last year and the years before when agreeing on a tree was split four ways. This was too quick for my husband. He said he wasn’t feeling it quite yet. I trudged through the snow alone with him until we came to the one we got. He loves looking for Christmas trees. I thought they all looked about the same. After he cut this one down and he was pulling it on the sled down the hill I noticed an old bird nest in it. I asked my husband to stop, and reached in and pulled out all sorts of stuff nobody would want on their carpet. “I wish it had chipmunks in it! or a squirrel!” my youngest said later.
Only some of our ornaments are up. The boys did theirs. My husband and I have not. They have reached the age that they are only putting up the ones they like. I do it too, so I’m not judging. I bought ornaments for every single one of my family members recently at Target when I got lost for a half an hour. I enjoyed it immensely, selecting one for each individual that would be personal to them. Then there was one nephew I struggled to find something for, and a brother-in-law too. But I couldn’t leave them out. I had to expand my scope of what would be meaningful or cool. It was impossible. I found a glass skeleton crossbones like pirates have for my nephew. He’ll think those are (fill in cool word teens are using) right? Hoped so. A couple of small felted animals you’d find in an African safari could work for my brother-in-law. He visited Africa recently. They looked only okay, but I got them anyway. Maybe if I explained the gift’s meaning?…because that’s a sign of a good gift. No. Oh-well.
I realized later, it was more fun getting lost in the moment than it was dealing with the feeling I wanted to return most of them and change my gift giving plans. My nephew mentioned at Thanksgiving he just wants to hang out, do something fun together. Good kid, right? How sweet. Money’s good too, my nieces said, or gift cards. I guess they’re honest. Why do I hesitate? Maybe they’ll just get cash. Do teens even carry cash anymore? At dinner last night I imagined myself sitting across from them at gift opening and asking them for their Venmo account names. I could just send them payment, I mean a package emoji.
I’ve got my bag of returns with a bit of bubble wrap mixed in so nothing breaks in the transfer back to Target. They’re good about returns. There’s always a list of reasons they want you to select from. Instead of selecting “changed mind” I wonder if one says “bah humbug.” I threw a few other purchases in my bag to return too. They were things I grabbed from the end of the aisle, impulse buys at the last minute. I’ll keep one of the stretchy stress gals that’s in the shape of a gingerbread man for myself. She’s pink and has a grumpy face. I like it.
I’ve got exactly 170 pages of my book done. Last time I shared I was at 56 pages. I have to ignore a lot to keep at it. I get up early everyday to get in an hour or two before the chaos of the day starts. It’s my happy place.
A partially done puzzle is on the table across from where I’m sitting typing. I started it with my son, but it’s been there for weeks. I’ll leave it there for as long as he wants it. A Lego advent calendar is next to that. We’d bought a new one a few years in a row and are now starting to rebuild them. It’s Star Wars themed like the others we have. My oldest and I saw more Lego advent calendars at Target. When he saw the price he said we didn’t have to get one this year. But he also said he wasn’t that into it. I’m not sure which reason was the most accurate. I didn’t ask. Then he woke up and put all of the first five days of the old one we had together before his brother had a chance. We’ve since gotten into an alternating rotation. “This one’s my favorite Mom,” he said. I nodded, trying to keep my train of thought on the sentence I was on in my book. This happens a lot. Sometimes the hand on the clock is not past 6am yet. I’ve learned not to fight it. “Mommy’s writing,” I say.
There are still plastic decoration bins in the front playroom where the tree is. In the past they’d be emptied and put away on the same day. I walk around them in the morning before I start writing to get to the tree, and before my coffee. I feel accomplished staying upright and not falling. I also pass the Lego table that’s now in the center of that room to make space for the tree. I try to avoid stepping on creations. There are Nerf darts everywhere. I turn the tree lights on by stepping on an easy to reach big red button with my foot. I’ve left the curtains open from the day before so early morning walkers can see the lights, and let’s face it it’s one less thing to do this time of year. When did opening curtains start to feel like too much? I had to put the lights on myself this year because of the whole rash thing. I realized I don’t like putting lights on a tree, especially when it’s so high I need to stand on something, and we don’t have enough working lights to make it look squint-your-eyes good enough. My way of determining they’re evenly spread out did not have a passing grade this year. But I also gave up on putting the effort into fixing it. It’s good enough I tell myself. No one’s standing on the sidewalk judging my tree decorating execution. This tree has long needles. They dropped all over the carpet as soon as we put it up. They did not want to be vacuumed up either. Along with the darts, I might just leave them as they fall. There will only be more, I’m certain.
I’m the only one watering the Christmas tree. It needs it twice a day right now. I wrote the task on the fridge dry erase board to remind the boys to help. Now I just have to get them to do it. Maybe I’ll just keep doing it myself. Let’s not risk more than one person getting a rash, as I pop an Allegra.
I let my youngest decorate most everything else the way he wanted. He carried up only the bins he could lift. A few have yet to make their way up the basement steps. I’m not sure they will this year.
I bought pre-made cookie dough for our annual Christmas cookie making day. That’s coming up this weekend. I searched “easiest Christmas cookies ever” on my phone, but those looked too hard too. I paid a little extra from Target for some gluten-free, dairy-free, vegan, supposed to be chocolate mint cookie dough. I figured I can actually share these with the people I’m doing it with. I have no idea how they’ll taste. The people are my sisters and Mom. I love them. I hope they taste decent, or at the very least don’t give anyone a stomach ache. If not, I got a second option. We’ll see if the gluten-free Oreos will look good if I can get the white frosting I got, also free of all that stuff, to stick. I got pre-crushed candy canes to put on top too. Apparently that made its way into my Target cart while placing a drive up pickup order, instead of not-crushed candy canes I could just wack with a meat hammer. Maybe that would have been better, more fun? Walking into the store feels like too much work right now. It’s also very overwhelming and a sensory overload. I also figure I’ll avoid grabbing more things from the end of the aisle. What’s replaced that is the suggested buys that pop up when I’m close to hitting the order now button on my phone. Do we need more goldfish? Are there enough granola bars? Do I have time to decorate a pre-made gingerbread house? (I bought one from Aldi. It’s pre-assembled. It’s still in the box behind me in a bag. All I have to do is decorate it. I can do that before Christmas, right?)
I got a package on my doorstep. It’s the time of year we get nearly one everyday and 90% of the time have no clue what it is because we’ve clicked and ordered so many things by now. This one was soft inside, small…any guesses? It had my name on it. Think Annie. What did I order? I’d already got my multi-pack of blue light blocking reading glasses I couldn’t ask my boys to buy me for Christmas, so I ordered them myself. Oh, and I used my Kohl’s cash for a few kitchen washcloths and towels because our puppy Maple had put holes in a few and they were looking faded anyway. What was in the package?
Bah humbug sheep socks. Was it a mistake? It felt strangely timely. I took them out and tried to go through the possibility I ordered them by accident. A free gift with purchase? AI feeling my holiday distress as I scroll for gifts for people that already have everything? Am I that unhappy with the Christmas season? It was certainly possible. I thought of Charlie Brown. I haven’t watched the Christmas special yet this year. I can relate to Charlie Brown, but maybe a Linus in my life is throwing in the blanket and asking me to hop on the bah humbug sleigh too. More likely. Shh.
I texted my sister Sarah. “Yup, did you get just that or all the rest of my order too?” I texted back. “Just the socks. Thanks.” She texted back. “I saw those and thought of you. Got me some too.”
I reread her text. She got herself a pair too. I took out one of the other pink grumpy faced stretch gals from my Target return bag. I set it aside to give her not for Christmas, but just because.
Maybe I’ll put up some of my ornaments, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll decorate the pre-made gingerbread house, maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll leave up my Dicken’s Christmas village until March. It’s the one thing that feels fitting and makes me feel like I know what this time of year is all about. Paying over $80.00 on Etsy the week of Thanksgiving this year for a rare building to add to it? Priceless. Mine as well enjoy the whole set up for as long as I want, until spring even.
There’s always next year to get into the spirit, whatever that means. I hope my sister likes her ornament. I kept the one to give to her, and a fleece blanket, because those too had so many patterns to choose from and nobody needs another fleece blanket. That’s what makes it a great gift. She didn’t have any ornaments on her artificial tree when I visited her last weekend. She wasn’t sure she’d even put lights on it. It didn’t surprise me. Maybe she’ll hang her glass owl with a serious, stern face on it I picked out for her, maybe she won’t. It will look fitting next to the glass cocktail ornament I got for my brother-in-law. It confirmed my choice after we talked about his job, and life in general.
I tried the sheep bah humbug socks on. They don’t fit. It’s okay. It was the thought that counts, right? Definitely. I have them set where I can see them. They are the perfect gift, and received exactly when I needed it. Sarah has never consistently given gifts to me on the actual day, like on my birthday. I don’t except it from her anymore. She will do something like send me a pair of bah humbug sheep socks when I need it most. I love that.
I wrapped my own gift last night. Before my son hopped into bed he said “I just want to get it done.” He was pointing at a huge box he pulled out of the recycle bin in the garage on his floor. It was half wrapped, with one side done but the other side didn’t have enough paper to cover it. I helped him un-tape the done side and was just going to pull it down to even it out. I thought I could quick show him how to eyeball and measure so there’s enough paper for each end before taping. But then he pointed out how loose it was across the entire package during the first part of taping he had done. Then he told me the gift was for me and not to undo it too much so I’d see in the box. I carefully took his kid-sized scissors, with a soccer pattern on them, and cut down the paper. Once the tape was released, I then pulled the paper and had him get tape to secure it tighter than before. “How do you do that?” he asked as I folded the sides in triangles, demonstrating how to finish the ends. He grabbed the tape and together we finished wrapping my gift. I was certain what was inside was a fraction of the size of the box. “Lots of practice,” I said. “I’m itchy Mom,” he said. I sighed. “Do you already have your ice pack?” I asked. “Yes,” he said. He sleeps hot. He won’t admit the pile of fleece blankets on his bed are the culprit. “Cookie needs to be washed. He smells. I put him in the white basket downstairs but he didn’t get washed today.” I hadn’t seen the blue stuffed Sesame Street animal he sleeps with every night in the laundry room. “I took him back out for tonight,” he said. I knew what “it smells” meant. In the past I would have refused to let him sleep with it. Not last night. I noticed it was not tucked by his face but to the side squished in amongst his mountain of blankets he has like a nest every night. “I can wash Cookie tomorrow” I reassure him before reaching for the lights.
Which reminds me. I should wash Cookie today, if I can get to it.
