Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Sweet Baby Jesus... The first Christmas casualty

Christmas has always been my favorite holiday. For a number of reasons. Ummmm I love presents... just kidding. But seriously who doesn't? And giving someone that one thing you know they will love... priceless. Especially if it is your kid. Having children seems to drastically change your gift giving practices... or at least ours. Before kids you buy for everyone. EVERYONE. You get married and then you have twice as many people to buy for so you cut back on gift exchanging with friends. Then you have a baby and you cut back on everything. The holidays become strictly for the kids. Yours and others under a certain age with in the family. Before kids my husband and I would exchange extravagant gifts. After we started buying one big household item that we both wanted like a new TV or something super cool like a stainless steel fridge with an ice maker. Three kids later we... say Merry Christmas and watch the kids tear into their gifts from "Santa". The mythological fat guy that gets all the credit for your hard work and hard earned money.

I used to love decorating for Christmas. I would transform our house into a winter wonderland. Everything from shower curtains and bathmats, comforters and curtains, to villages with hundreds of pieces, lights that would blink and sing, even fake snow. I had stocking hung in every room and Christmas music obnoxiously blaring through out the house from the day after Halloween until weeks after New Year's. I loved all the vibrant colors and... glitter! Everything had to be doused with glitter.

After I had kids Christmas decorating was much more of a task. Even finding the time to do it felt like a chore. But once it wasdone I would fall in love with all of it all over again. And then I had a miscarriage on Christmas morning two years ago... And I wanted nothing more than for Christmas to just GO AWAY. After the longest day ever I put the kids to bed. Poured myself a glass of vodka and started to dismantle the décor. I went to the closet and started to pull out all of the Styrofoam lined boxes that I would normally place each ornament so carefully in....  when I felt this overwhelming tightness in my chest. I was about to have a panic attack... I opened the front door and as the icy air rushed in the only thought that I had was to not pack this crap up. I wanted Christmas to be over. Now. I didn't want to take hours undecorating the tree. I wanted it gone. Out of my sight. So I slipped the door stopper over and pushed the tree right out of the house. It went crashing down our front steps. The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Tiny shards flew in every direction. Covering our front yard in sharp slivers of broken memories. Aidan's Christmas ornament... shattered. The years of ornaments we had exchanged for our anniversaries in smithereens.  And oddly enough it made me feel better.

I took one look around the living room and got out the biggest box I could find. House after house I threw them in the box haphazardly listening to each one break. I had never in my life understood how someone could get angry or upset enough to break their own stuff. It's illogical. But that night it made perfect sense.  All in all it took about 30 minutes to take down what took me days to put up. I shoved all of the boxes carelessly in the closet. Mopped floor, changed the curtains and bed sets. I dusted and put all of the non holiday stuff back in its place... and exhausted went to bed. The next morning I woke up and let the dog out. As I walked down the steps with Chachi I felt the glass crunch underneath my slippers and immediately regretted my impulsive Christmas slaughter.

I regretted it that much more the next year when I took out box after box of broken glass. We barely had anything to hang on the tree. We didn't even have a tree. The one I kicked down the flight of front steps last year and tossed in the trash... was a fake tree... that cost hundreds of dollars. (sigh)
But there is always an upside. I have already given birth to Rylan who is only two months old at this point. I am exhausted and still a little bitter about Christmas and with not many salvageable decorations left there really wasn't much to do. Which was a bit of a relief. I sifted through and hot glued back together what I could. I even put some of the broken ornaments back on the new fake tree. Not quite the winter wonderland it had been in years prior but definitely a step up from the previous year.

So the holidays came and went and before I knew it they were back. This year I decorated while the kids were asleep. I watched Elf and drank hot chocolate and apparently got so caught up in what I was doing I forgot I have a very curious, very active toddler. I was quickly reminded first thing in the morning when his tiny hands began to grab for any shiny, glass, or glittery object within reach. Grab and run. That seemed to be the name of the game we were playing. And then it happened. Rylan grabbed the baby Jesus. Stole him right out the manger (where he isn't supposed to be placed until Christmas) .  Grab and run was getting old... the game changer? Grab and toss! And there he went.... sweet baby Jesus. Flying high. Crashing hard. In less than hour we had our first Christmas casualty. Since then the ornaments have moved further up the tree and most of the villages have been packed back up... it's a shameful half assed job... Oh well there is always next year.

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