Christmas Woes...

“...it's the most wonderful time of the year...” I start listening to my Christmas music mix on the first of December. I want to feel the anticipation of the season, the joy, the love...the wonder of it all. But the reality of the event is such that, what I really feel is exhausted. The enormity of what lies ahead is overwhelming. But why? What is it that makes something that should be a happy time of year such a chore?

It could be the laundry list of things to be done:

1. Bring in boxes from the garage
2. Christmas cards, purchased, signed, and sent (don't forget the stamps)
3. Gifts purchased and wrapped
4. Decorate the house
5. Decorate the tree
6. Put up the outside decorations
7. Bake – cookies, fudge, etc.
8. Clean the house – including the toilets

     These things alone would cause a grown woman to book a vacation in the Caribbean. So how is it, so many households, do not book those flights, but manage to succeed in creating the “...most wonderful time of the year?” Or is it just me?

     There was a time I could manage it all. Perhaps the focus was different. With kids at home, the idea of creating those memories was a way of energizing for the long haul. But I don't think it was as simple as all that. Gifts had to be bought, ornaments placed on the tree and cookies don't just bake themselves. Overwhelm!!! There never seemed to be a good time to go shopping, so the idea of searching for gifts, gave way to, “what should we get them, and where do we go to get that?” “Can't it all be bought in one store?” “How 'bout a gift card instead?” My stomach starts to roll.

     Run!!! No. Never. I can do this, and I do.

     So, here I am again, looking at the empty boxes stacked in the living room waiting to be filled with all the ornaments, ribbons, knick-knacks, and decorations I just put up, what seems like, last week. Time to put it all away for another year.

     I will look at my list, in reverse. Baby steps to taking away all the magic I tried to create. The house will look empty and pale. But that's what January is all about, isn't it? Hmmm, warm sunny beaches, drinks with umbrellas...where is the gift card for that?

 

     Ah, yes, my mantra continues “...it's the most wonderful time of the year..”

My Country Girl

When a dear friend of mine went on vacation in Wyoming, a country song began to evolve. Not only did I use the details of her adventures, I added some of my summer as well...

I found your credit card lying in the parking lot,

I knew then, that you were gone.

You stole my heart and my pick-up truck,

But still I loved you.

We hit the whitewater that summer,

You screamed, you hung on tight.

Your lips turned a beautiful shade of blue,

And I loved you.

Now all I have are memories,

A Facebook photo of your feet.

Your mother keeps me updated,

God how your love still hurts.

The horseback riding, the gun shooting, the quads,

You did it all.

How was I to know you were planning to leave,

My love couldn't keep you here.

You hated my boots,

And my Dick Cheney t-shirt.

The elk-horn chandelier made you nauseous,

But still I loved you.

The rodeo made us laugh out loud,

As children ran to catch sheep.

I glanced to see you pull your hand from his,

How could I have loved you?

Now all I have are memories,

A Facebook photo of your feet.

Your mother keeps me updated,

God how your love still hurts.

Pillow Talk

A code must be written somewhere, that gives women permission to over accessorize the bed without fear of recrimination. We all do it. And yet, it is that same permission that is our downfall.

There was a time when my bed was adorned with more than a half dozen pillows of every shape and size. So many, if fact, that they took up easily half the surface space of the bed. Now, there is no arguing that they looked fabulous...almost HGTV worthy...but, again, they caused a problem.

The problem was not mine. I loved the pillows. Their grace, color, texture...the implied luxury in their asymmetrical placement. The problem was my husband's. Or rather, the problem he had with the pillows.

I set a goal this summer to make the bed, EVERY DAY. Seems like such a small thing, when in reality it is one of those things that you have to make a priority...like brushing your teeth. Not the end of the world if you miss one or two days...but it was the challenge of the whole thing. Getting out of bed, at a reasonable time, and making the bed. So, in order to get the feeling of satisfaction in having completed my task and wanting to have something aesthetically pleasing to show for it, I added a few pillows.

The bed was made and looked “lovely.” Except now, my husband's problem became a focal point of our evening ritual. The bedtime routine was disrupted. No more could he simply jump into bed, roll over and start snoring. He had to deal with the pillows. There was no way he could simply throw them on the floor...oh no! He had no clue where to put them, that they would not be in the “wrong” place. So instead, he waited...pacing, looking around the room, much like a caged animal waiting to slip by the attendant. Finally, as sleep could not wait he asked, in a small, boy-like voice if I could take the pillows off the bed.

What? It can't wait until I'm done washing my face? Brushing my teeth? Slipping into my grannie nighty? What? Of course not. The caged animal would not be able to rest, until the bed was cleared of all unnecessary paraphernalia. That being said, I sauntered over to the bed, gave clear instructions as to the resting place of the four pillows, removed them, and watched as he dove between the sheets.

I giggled a little to myself, watching my husband and his dilemma. And I smiled, an evil sort of grin this morning, as once again I made the bed. I wonder if tonight he will attempt to “de-pillow” the bed on his own...he could always sleep in one of the other beds...oh wait – they have pillows too!