What IS this dream world in which I insist upon residing? Sometimes, I just need a smack in the head.
Obviously, my idealistic dreams have not been reality (and will continue to not be reality for the rest of my life, I'm sure). I'm not being defeatist here. I'm just admitting that what I want probably isn't what is best for me. Here is reality: the Christmas baking that I've attempted so far has been hastily done between interruptions that sound like this:
"STOP sitting on your brother!"
"Why are you crying? OH. You need your diaper changed!"
"Please take your hand out of your pants."
"STOP climbing on the ________."
"No, you may not watch more TV."
"No, you may not ________."
I'd love to bake a long list of traditional Christmas cookies, but all I've done so far (and I probably won't do any more) is to dip some pretzels in white chocolate, make peppermint bark, pecan tartlets and pizelles.
My tree, while pretty, isn't the way that I would want it. Part of this is due to the small hands that helped to decorate it. Part of it is due to the small hands that continually take ornaments OFF the tree (because they look delicious?). My Christmas decorations are limited to a tree, a nativity candle holder (which I love) and two stockings hung haphazardly high out of the reach of little hands. These items, I might add, are hung on an incomplete entertainment center.
|My favorite nativity!|
|How our living room currently looks.|
For a few days after we put up our tree, I was inwardly bemoaning the fact that the incompletion of our project (that's right; STILL not finished) has once again ruined my idealistic picture of how I wanted Christmas to be this year. Then, as I was lying on the floor in front of the tree, holding Little Brother in the air to make him laugh, I was reminded of something.
"Last year," I told him, still holding him aloft, "I would have given anything to have you home for Christmas, even with an incomplete house." Tears sprang to my eyes and I brought him to my chest for a big hug.