10 Teachings of (This) Christmas

I could not have asked for a better Christmas than this years. That said, here are a few lessons learned that we can either duplicate of abolish next year:
#10 Christmas lights make everyone happy. Angry Birds themed Christmas lights make everyone think you're either the most wicked awesome neighbor ever . . . or the worst for making their lights pale in comparison (cue demented Grinch smile).

#9 I love big family Christmases. When I was a child, we did one of two things: Every other year, we would stay in Amarillo and participated in the massive Baker Family Christmas dinner (think Robert Earl Keene). The food was almost always cold by the time everyone got there, there were so many people that Christmas gifts were frowned upon (because, honestly, if you could afford that many gifts, you were just showing off. Or you weren't buying something for everyone which makes you a punk . . . unless you just bought for Grandma and then you're forgiven), and nine times out of ten a "disagreement" broke out. Good times. But fun, none the less : )

When we weren't in Amarillo dodging Grandma and her "Where's my present from y'all?" face, we trekked up to Erie, CO to have Christmas with Grandma and Grandpa Fay. I don't remember any other family members ever being there, so it was always like our own little spoiled rotten Christmas. We would bake pies with Grandma and go sledding outside with Mom and Dad. If Christmas fell in the middle of the week and we had more than just a day or two there, we'd go eat at Casa Bonita and visit Uncle Corky who would always pull a silver dollar out of our ears. Those were the best Christmases. They always felt special, even if there wasn't anything out of the ordinary about them.

I was hoping that moving closer would mean bigger family holidays for my kids. We have a big house with a guest room and a huge den that could easily fit five full/queen size air mattresses and still have room to walk, plus sleeping bag room for extra kids in our kids' rooms (well, maybe not Bugs . . . her room is always a disaster. Like the Barbie isle at Toys R Us exploded all over it). But, to my dismay, no one was able to join us for Christmas this year. They all had their reasons for not being able to come up and we had ours for not being able to go down (hubby was on-call all weekend and had to work Friday and Monday), but I was bummed none the less. Until Christmas morning, that is. I woke up and it was still dark out (and before the kids so, like, 3am?) and rolled over to snuggle with my exhausted hubby in my new Christmas pj's (thanks babe! I love 'em!). It was then that I realized I hadn't spent Christmas with extended family but twice in the last nine years, both times because my husband was gone. So instead of pouting about missing out on crazy, cold dinners and the kids making cookies with their G.G., I snuggled in closer and thanked God for our little family Christmas, for a husband who was willing to spend holidays and birthdays and anniversaries in Baghdad so that others would know what it means to be free, like us, and for having our whole family together this year when so many soldiers and their families . . . my friends . . . are spending them apart. I'm thankful that, no matter where wars take us from now on, I will always have my husband home at Christmas time. I'll take that over cold turkey and snoring grandpas any day.

#8 Nothing beats being able to get your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and seeing their faces when they come in Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents after ten years of getting just one thing from mom and dad and one thing from Santa. I may never go back to small Christmas mornings again.

#7 Buying your kids everything on their lists (within reason) and letting them wake up Christmas morning to an entire living room full of presents is a mistake! They get so obsessed with the gifts piling up under the tree that they completely forget the real meaning of Christmas. No amount of church services and Bible story readings or threats to never get presents again if they keep comparing who has more gifts can undo the damage done by mountains of presents Christmas morning.
Yes, to all you clever observant readers out there, I just contradicted myself. I do that often. But I think I have a plan for next year that will fix our Christmas morning selfishness.
All these years of going to church and I was never taught about advent until just recently. I have to do more research, but next year I plan on celebrating advent and not just Christmas. Each day leading up to Christmas will have a family activity, Bible lesson, and the kids will each get to open one present a day. Then, on Christmas Eve, we'll have a big dinner and they can open the rest of their gifts. This will free up Christmas day for focusing on Christ's birth, his sacrifice and find a way for the kids to do a little giving themselves at the hospital, nursing home or somewhere else in the community. I hope this will become a tradition that my kids will eventually share with their own families (and us, too, because I plan to invade their homes every Christmas long after they've moved out).

Yes, this would happen to an elf in our house. 

#6 The "Elf on the Shelf" is just plain creepy, and I refuse to give in to the further commercialization of Christmas (Linus would be proud).

#5 Sedatives . . . must . . get . . sedatives. For next year, that is. No more of this kids screaming at 5:40am stuff. Humbug.

#4 No amount of brilliant outdoor lighting combined with the hours spent outside installing said lighting will draw your neighbors out of their homes and encourage them to come by and introduce themselves. At some point, I'm going to have to man-up and do it myself. Just seems a little odd, though. "Howdy neighbor! I just thought I'd come by and introduce myself and welcome myself to the neighborhood. Here's a plate of cookies."

#3 The Santa issue is . . . well . . . an issue. As hard as I've tried to not put too much emphasis on Santa and elves and all that nonsense, my kids still turned out to be hard core believers. Especially Bugs. She's 10 and still thinks that a big fat man in a red velvet suit breaks into our house every year and leaves her a present. Besides the fact that he was obviously stalking her all year to know that she was good and exactly what she wanted. Why kids aren't completely terrified by the idea is beyond me. I blame the media. Heaven forbid they make Christmas movies and music about the real meaning and origins of Christmas. I even heard a song on Radio Disney by Mitchel Musso (I'm already revealing too much about myself just knowing that name) that says we all need to pause on Christmas morning to thank Santa Clause for all the things he does . . . for Christmas. Tragic. Other than Phineas and Ferb, I've boycotted Disney all together.

Chris really wanted to just come right out and tell them the truth . . . on Christmas eve no less . . . but I didn't have the heart. I don't do well in those kinds of situations. Words elude me and all I can say is "ummm" and "I don't know, I'm just really sorry." But one thing I can do is write. And that's what I'm doing. A book that helps parents transition from department store Santas to the real magic of Christmas without breaking their kids hearts and destroying the whimsy that young children associate with that time of year. Two wonderfully gifted friends are going to help with it, one to edit and one to illustrate, and hopefully by this summer I'll have it in print and on shelves. You'll know when it's done, because this is partly a shameless plug and I WILL try to sell it to you.

#2 Don't waste your time cleaning house before Christmas morning unless you plan on having company. My house was clean . . . and now it's not. Still. Four days post-Christmas.

#1 Christmas lists are great, but there's nothing better than giving or getting a gift that has had a lot of thought put into it. A fancy, delicate robe from your husband, an antique bound book from your son, a dress from your daughter that she's seen you drool over on-line for months . . . or seeing someones face when they open something totally unexpected since it may not have been on their list but it suits them perfectly. Next year I'm going to strive to put more thought into all the gifts that I give (and start shopping before the middle of December). Imagine the smiles we'd see if everyone did that : )

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from My Family to Yours!

"Is your house on fire, Clark?" "No, Aunt Bethany, those are the Christmas lights."

 

Most of you either know my husband or know of my husband. But even his closest friends and family are completely unaware of his dark secret. My husband has a disability. A mental one. It's called OGS, or Obsessive Griswold Syndrome. 

While most wives would view this as a very expensive and time consuming handicap, I embrace it. To me (the creative, big project lover), his OGS is a gift wrapped in multicolored LEDs topped with fresh noble fir garland. I'm, of course, referencing the *Award Winning* Gingerbread House of 2010 and the blazing white spectacle that was the 5,000 sq ft my-neighbor-is-deployed-so-I'll-make-his-kids-happy-by-putting-lights-on-their-side-of-our-duplex-too Christmas display in North Carolina, affectionately nick-named the Icicle House. He was over the moon after that one because, for the first time since joining the military, our exterior lighting was perfectly balanced : )

He is so particular about his exterior lighting and decorating, that he has developed a point system which he uses to evaluate not only our home, but everyone else as well. I'm not sure how many points everyone starts with, but points are deducted for each day your lights are up and ON before Thanksgiving, sagging lights, blinking sections combined with fading/running/non-blinking sections, rope lights, blow ups (that's a lazy man's Christmas decor), using only one color (white is the exception) . . . the list goes on and on and, frankly, I don't even know it all and am pretty sure he makes up more deductions as we go. I'm sure there are bonus points, but no one's earned them yet to my knowledge.

This year is no different, except that he's been presented with obstacles we've never encountered before. First, we skipped decorating the weekend following Thanksgiving because my parents were in town. Big mistake. Apparently, the snow can't stay at bay long after Thanksgiving in Colorado. We had every intention of creating his Christmas masterpiece this weekend. That is, until we checked the weather forecast yesterday. Snow . . . all weekend . . . and lots of it.

The ground work can be done rain or shine and so can the icicles since we invested in a ladder yesterday, but the trim lights require climbing onto the roof and that can NOT be done on a wet, snowy, steep pitched second story. So last night my husband, completely overwhelmed by his OGS, mounted the ladder and ascended to the roof where he completed the trim lights in the freezing cold pitch blackness of night. And I, the ever faithful and always concerned wife, stayed outside with him (on the ground), tossing bags of gutter clips and extra strands of lights up on the roof for him.

By the time we reached the back side of the house, we had worked through all the spools of lights we had purchased this year. He was so careful, even spent a little extra per spool, to buy Phillips lights only, since that was the brand we purchased last year and they MUST match exactly. It was only after I retrieved the bin of lights leftover from last year's gingerbread creation from the garage and tossed a strand up onto the roof that he realized Philips had betrayed us. Some disgraceful schlub at Philips headquarters whose sole job is to come up with ways to make even more money off men who suffer from the same mental disorder as my husband, realized that if they added an extra colored bulp . . . purple . . . to the pattern of colored lights, men with OGS will be forced to trash last year's strands and replace them all with the new purple strands or be left to suffer with mismatched strands. So my husband had a decision to make: Use last year's strands on the least visible side of the house and deduct points, or descend from the roof and haul off to Target and risk being gone long enough for the storm to blow in. The stress was almost too much to bear. But finally, he came to the conclusion that missing an entire section of lights (all be it the far back corner) due to snow was utterly unacceptable. He hung last year's strands and took his deductions like a man.

Though, I have a strong feeling I'll be heading to Target this weekend just in case the Philips punks decide to add periwinkle or chartreuse next year.

At this point, my husband's poor fingers were near frost bite stage. I commented, JOKINGLY, that he didn't have to put a clip on each individual bulb and save his fingers by only putting a clip on every fifth bulb. Would go so much faster! What follows is his rebuttle:

"Not acceptable. I refuse to have flaccid lights. Each bulb must stand erect. Christmas lights on Viagra!"

I do love him . . . . so much : )

Hanging our "gingerbread" last year

Pics of this years lights will be posted after the snow stops falling this weekend.

And here they are! I love having a husband that can take any crazy idea I have for a Christmas theme and make it reality. I mentioned possibly doing the Calvin and Hobbs snowmen next year . . . . 

  . . . he's already researching do-it-yourself snow making machines.

Good grief :-p