The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I love Christmas.  I love it with a passion.  As a child I was the one who sent out the family Christmas cards, bad hand writing and all.  As a teen I took over most of the decorating.  One year I put up the Christmas tree by myself, just hours after the painters had left the house.  Poinsettia on a still tacky mantle...yes.  Tree that was too tall for the room so it bowed against the ceiling...yes!  Then my mother walked in and I heard the famous words so many kids have heard.  "You better get this all cleaned up before you father comes home!" 

To be fair I should include the back story.  I grew up in a house that was built in 1932, we were the second owners of the lovely brick colonial.  The original owners had done a marvelous job...back in 1932 and then had done nothing, nothing every again.  There were water marks on the wall paper and peeling paint.  Shutters that banged at night and sometimes fell off the house.  There was so much to be done.  My parents waited  and saved for quite a few years to do the decorating.  There was always a more pressing need than paint and wallpaper, like the furnace the size of a small bedroom that went out or the constant flooding of the basement.  Finally a decorator was brought in, painters came, and then the Christmas tornado named Rebecca followed.

I just could not help myself.  I adored our home.  It had a staircase that went up three stories, it had a window seat and a sun room.  It was beautiful.  The new paint and curtains looked so wonderful and well, Christmas was around the corner and the tree needed to be put up.  But alas I did have some sense in my head and I unstuck the poinsettia and I dragged the tree back around to the garage.  I ever carefully swept the snow of pine needles. 

My family has always teased me that I have Norman Rockwell fantasies.  I suppose I do.  There is just something so magical about Christmas.  I have wonderful memories of finding a real kitten in my stocking, of doing plays with my cousins, staying up late with my sister talking about the treasures we might find the next morning and the magical year of the Cabbage Patch doll, oh my!

As I started my own home I was puzzled where the magic went.  The holidays became stressful and I always felt let down.  There were years I took the decorations down on the 26th, just desperate to have the holiday finished.  I remember hearing the words "its the most wonderful time of the year..." and thinking...hmm not so much.  I am not sure what was happening during those years.  Perhaps it was the transition from child to adult, maybe I was stuck in a waiting room and unable to embrace where I was. 

Then something happened.  We had children.  The first few years with the babies really was not any different, but slowly the magic of Christmas returned in the most beautiful way.  It was tempered slightly by Max and our worry.  I know two years ago, as we awaited some scary test results there was strain, and last year had some dark moments as well, but the magic was still building up a little more each year despite the trials.  This year we are free from so much anxiety.  I am so excited to celebrate every aspect of the season, Christmas teas, dinners, visits, and more.  I get to see my cousins again this year.  It has been almost 15 years since we have all been together at Christmas time.  I doubt I can talk them into a play, but maybe we can talk our children into doing one.

I feel like I am the giddy teenager dragging in the Christmas tree all over again!