For many, many years I was able to avoid the entirety of November/December festivities. No turkey. No 8 crazy nights. No fat man. Nothing. In fact, for years I always volunteered to work so others could have time with family. I wanted the happy people to have the chance to be together.
Through some holiday miracle of my own, I'm slipping into the guise of a happy holiday person. Okay, maybe not 'holiday happy'', but at least 'holiday tolerant.' People, it's freaking me out. Last week I bought cookie cutters and, in what can only be described as an incredible lapse of judgment, I also bought about $40 bucks worth of sprinkles, colored sugars, tiny swirly chips and frosting. I plan to have the kids from playgroup over to decorate my homemade effing cookies. I left everything in the bag with the receipt - just in case. Just in case I regain my insanity.
But today ... today ... wow. I'm pretty much speechless. I woke up this morning and this fell out of my head --
me: I want to get a tree.
bear: [blinks once, twice.] That would be really nice, honey.
me: Yeah. I need to make the holidays my own. Make our own traditions. Our family. Our traditions. Learn to love this time of year instead of, well, weeping so much.
bear: Excellent thinking all around!
me: Yeah, so, I want a tree. I want a white tree. A sparkly... shiny... white tree!
me: [weird smile finds its way onto my face.]
bear: Um, hon, no.
me: Bear, maybe you didn't hear me. I said I want a white tree.
bear: A white tree? Are you kidding me? You grew up in Vermont! White trees are fake! Hideous! I think I have to throw a veto here.
Isn't she beautiful?