last chance!

This is the absolute last call for a Christmas card! Want one? Then send me your address.

p.s. – I could send a Yule or Hannuka one too. 😀

excuse me while I wear my martyr hat

I had a very busy day yesterday, which I really wanted to write about (shopping at the mall, of all horrors, and the scary-looking thing I used at the gym) and today is shaping up to be frightfully busy as well. Operation Feed a Starving Student* starts tomorrow, so I have a house to clean, decorations to finish putting up, and a home-cooked meal to plan.

This entails running up and down the stairs 6,000 times, sorting out decorations, overseeing some slakerly children (mostly the girls), entertaining a toddler, and all the usual everyday stuff. Sarah has even been to church and back.

Of course, in the middle of this Ron absolutely has to work on those overdue business taxes. With my help. Oh look, there go my eyeballs. I seemed to have rolled them so hard they fell out of my head.

* we invite groups of Ron’s students over for a large Sunday dinner type meal. They’re looking pretty scrawny around now.

The Santa & Jesus connection

One Christmas, long ago, I lay awake in the wee morning hours waiting for the children to get up. Ron kept insisting I go back to sleep, but I couldn’t, and he wouldn’t let me wake up the kids.

Eventually, I heard them. They pitter-patted out into the living room, awed sighs and exclamations passing their lips. I snuggled close to Ron, a big smile on my face as I listened to them, caught up in the magic of Christmas morning through a child’s eyes.

And then I heard a phrase that would make any mother’s blood run cold on a Christmas morning. Sarah had innocently looked up to her older brother, and asked his wisdom.

“Is there really a Santa Claus?”

Oh God no, I whispered in Ron’s ear. We both froze, waiting for the howls that were surely to follow. Please, Lord, not on Christmas morning, not when Sarah will be crushed and Meaghan is just old enough to understand.

In the dark, I listened tensely for Addison answer. The silence stretched on for minutes. “Well,” he finally said, and I could tell he was thinking it through. “You see,” he continued in his 11-year-old wisdom, “Santa is really sort of a representative of Christmas, something that sort of stands for the good feelings that people have. He was sort of based on a real person that lived a long time ago, and today people see him more as a symbol of goodness.”

There is a pause, and I hear Sarah again, “So, is there really a Santa?”

Addison sighs a heavy sigh. “Sarah,” he continues exhasperated, “Santa is Jesus’ cousin.”

“Oh!” she says brightly. “Hey, let’s go wake up Mom and Dad!” And that’s why they found us huddled together, giggling uncontrolably.

The brightest bulb on the strand.

Every year around this time, something happens to me. I’ll be listening to a Christmas carol, and my eyes will tear up. Not only that, the *only* music I’m listening to is Christmas carols.
Something else happens, too. Something happens to me when we put up the tree. My normal, laid-back self start channeling Martha Stewart on a bad day. It starts with the lights.
Over the years, the placing of the lights on the tree has fallen on my shoulders. I’ll admit, I’m the only one in the house who can do it perfect enough. Ron gave up years ago. Yesterday, Meaghan put the lights on the tree, twice. That was twice to her own specifications. Then she had some trouble with a section fo the strand, so I had to take them off to fix it.
We have an extra-long tree-sized strand of multicoloured lights for our tree. At one times, each of five sections blinked in random patterns independant from the other sections. Section two was no longer working. Sure, I could have covered that seciton of the tree up with a smaller strand of lights, but then there’d be all these wires and.. you know.. It wouldn’t look *perfect*.
Meaghan and I stood there replacing every single light on that section, most of which were obviously blown. There was even a loose wire. After an hour of work, in which most was spent trying to insert little bulbs into tiny sockets, we tried again.
It didn’t work.
I threw my hands in the air and called Ron to tell him we were going shopping after supper.
And later we did go shopping, after a series of disconnected and meandering events including Emma’s nap at 5pm, my delayed trip to the gym while everyone else ate supper, and a visit from my mom. (and I forgot to mention that I lost 3 lbs this week)
I found, for a low price not even on sale, a 250 bulb set of clear white lights in a triangle net that you just place around your tree. Was it easy? Yes. Does it look good? My goodness, yes, it is perfect!
We finished decorating the tree, trying to sort ornaments and keep Emma from alternately running off with some or placing ten on one branch. Ron wandered in to see how we were doing, and I realized he hardly ever helps with the tree. “Oh, I just like to watch you,” he said while hugging me. “Really?” I looked up at his face. “Or are you just staying out of my way?”
He let go and started backing out of the room. “Yeah that!”

I want!

I am having too much fun over at the What on Earth catalog, especially since they have that leg lamp from that movie. (“You’ll put your eye out!” HA!)

(I found the leg lamp link over at Amy’s.)

I am also hankering over one of my favorite “feel-good” Christmassy tunes, Fairytale of New York. Aahhhhhh! I love this time of year!
We woke up to snow this morning, too. Later, I’ll tell you about putting my tree up. (yes, it is UP!)

So eighties

Wanna see my grad photo? Too funny.