Letting Go and Decking the Halls (Hall)

A few weeks ago, I signed up to bring some baked goods for a party that our church gives for the women in the correctional institute in town and their children every Christmas.  I had such big plans and ideas--I was going to make beautiful cookies with the kids, and we weren't going to eat them, we were going to share them.  It sounded perfect, right?  A fun, Christmasy activty with a wonderful moral at the end.  But, yesterday was busy with birthday and holiday parties and consequently tired children and it didn't happen.  Truth to tell, I completely forgot, and it wasn't until my darling husband looked at the calendar this morning (I have gotten better about writing things on the calendar, but am still working on the actually looking at it) and saw that I was supposed to bring cookies to church this morning for the party.  So, off I dashed to Ingles and bought way too many cookies to assuage my guilt about not baking them from scratch.  I do wish I could have actually made really good cookies for the party, but it was a good lesson for me.  I have so many ideas floating around in my head for Christmas things to do and make and I am just getting frustrated and anxious, instead of enjoying the good bits of our days these days that are devoted to preparing for Christmas.  Every moment of our day probably will not be filled with Christmas wonder from the Sunday after Thanksgiving until Epiphany, and I probably will not be able to hand make everyone a present and come up with a present for the kids to make either.  Thank goodness my husband takes care of the Christmas cards, although I sometimes snipe at him about that--for two years now I have wanted to take one of Elsa's drawings and turn it into a card, but can't seem to pull it off.

But, on a fun note, we put up our Christmas tree today.  Elsa was so excited and sweetly impatient, demanding to set it up as soon as she woke up, before breakfast, then immediately upon her return from church--I remember the agony of waiting for my father to carefully put up the lights on our Christmas tree.  It would generally take several hours, including at least one trip to the hardware store and stern commands to stay out of the living room.  I am not quite so much of a perfectionist as my father, although I do have to do it myself, otherwise I would be standing over my darling husband's shoulder, critiquing.  I would say I am working on it, but at least at Christmas time, I am not.  To be frank, I am not the laid back member of the family.  At any rate, watching both children's delight at unwrapping each ornament from the big tree box, Elsa remembering each ornament--"Oh, this is the carriage ornament Grammy gave you when I was in your tummy," while for David it was like opening up brand new items.  Last year he was just barely two, and didn't really get it, but this year, he definitely did.  "Look, Ewsa, it's a blue ball!  It's a gingerbread man!  It's a heart cookie!" he shouted, dancing around the room, every time he unwrapped an ornament.   I don't want to forget it. Then we lit the third candle on the Advent wreath, had supper and gingerbread cake for dessert in honor of tree decorating day.  Yes, I know, yet another tradition added, but I love itI feel the need to mark our special family occasions--this is it, kids, this is our family, and we are together, let's celebrate.  Happy Decking the Halls.