Here we are two-and-a-half days before Christmas, and it’s been rainy and 65 degrees (or higher) here in Atlanta all weekend. Miserable. Add to this a child with the flu. Throw in two other non-sick kids who are stuck at home with mom and the flu-ridden one. What results is a case of cabin fever reaching epic proportions.
Enough with the rain already, Mother Nature.
Our first Christmas in the new house has been…different. Good, but different. I’m pretty sure that after 9 years of living there we had perfected the art of decorating of our old house. We’re back to square one here. Where we were Southern Living material last year, we’d be doing good to show up in a Lillian Vernon catalog this year.
Tracking down the boxes with the Christmas stuff was challenging, even though most of it was labelled. I kept envisioning it in our old basement, stacked like it’s always been. But movers don’t work that way; even though we’ve been here a little over six months, some days are still like sorting through the pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle that’s been dumped out.
Part of our decorating dilemma has been this thing:
Sister-Girl is knee-deep in the terrible-twos (if you adjust her current age to dog-year-age). I quit counting how many ornaments she’s broken. The ornaments on our tree don’t start until about 4 feet up from the ground, but even this doesn’t stop Kirby from standing on her hind legs, mouth wide open and aiming at something/anything sparkly. She’s part shark, part carnival act, part hoarder.
This was taken the first night we had our tree up. It’s gone downhill rapidly since then.
Thank goodness this little guy made it here safely. I cannot tell you how many friends have sighed and said, “oh, my grandmother had this exact tree!” when they see him sitting on a table. Makes me smile every time I walk by, even though it’s no doubt a fire hazard with its frayed, circa 1978 cord.
Jack’s school Christmas concert was on Thursday morning. We sat up in the attic with all the squirrels. Seriously, the balcony at Trinity Presbyterian–for this event, at least–puts any kid’s table at any holiday event to shame.
Y’all like that untucked shirt and sloppy tie? And you can’t even see the tennis shoes he’s wearing…
What is it about seeing my child singing in front of a crowd that makes me tear up? Every single time. (Actually, I was probably crying because I was stuck up in the romper room with 3/4 of the pre-K kids, all of whom were so excited they could pop.)
See that cute guy in the green shirt on the front row? Mine.
The most beautiful part of the morning? When the schoolchildren and alums face the rest of us and sing “Silent Night.” Talk about being teary-eyed…
I mean, really. How beautiful is that?
Tuck seems to be on the mend, I hear the rain is moving out tonight, and Christmas is only two-and-a-half days away. Methinks things are indeed looking up.
I hope you’ve been just a little bit better than Kirbo this year…we’re a little concerned about her status on Santa’s list. I’m willing to bet 4 swallowed socks, myriad broken ornaments, and a destroyed dog bed that she’s not exactly on the top of the Good List.
guarding/scouting the food at our family Christmas party
I guess we’ll find out for sure on Wednesday morning.