I love Christmas. No I mean REALLY love love love to the capital L love. Except for the occasional mishap during a Black Friday event, I totally adore the warm and fuzzy vibes everyone is giving off during the holidays. Houses are jazzed to the hilt in an extravaganza of blinking lights and armies of inflatable Rudolph figurines descend to the smallest yard on the street. It is pure Trashy Christmas Americana and I am their biggest fan. You can never have too many Christmas lights and yard decoration do-dads in my opinion. Personally I prefer to not even see a blade of grass until at least until the end of January.
I love Christmas because it is the time of year when I am reminded of my favorite hymns and carols you unfortunately do not hear any other time of the year. Popular radio has tainted the airwaves with Madonna singing Santa Baby every 5th song which is inexcusable. This is crazy talk I know but how about shelving the Material Girl and give ol' Eartha Kitt some radio play? Seriously. Trans Siberian Orchestra will make you hallucinate if you aren't careful and if I hear Grandma Got Ran Over by a Reindeer one more time I may just go postal. For my funeral I would like my ashes scattered into Lake Waccamaw while Lo How a Rose e'er Blooming and For Unto Us a Child is Born is playing along with a champagne fountain bubbling on the pier. This is to promptly be followed by a sunset beach bonfire where everyone sips on Ketel One vodka gimlets and margaritas on the rocks with extra salt while they talk about how great my ass was and my Heisman Trophy worthy flag twirling skills. Take notes people.
Here is a snippet of our highly anticipated 6 days before the "Big C" Tree/House/Everything decorating party from last night.
- After endless days of nagging my husband finally brings in the multitude of overstuffed boxes.
- Kids mercilessly fighting over the same freaking tree branch to hang an ornament.
- Music blaring in the background offering zip in the way of "holiday cheer".
- Me yelling at everyone to stop yelling.
- Carl stepping on boxes of ornaments in an effort to block Annie from the preferred Stocking hanging spot.
- My husband looking at me from across the room no doubt wondering to himself how in the hell he got mixed up with me.
- Me shouting over the craziness that we are going to have fun by God and for everyone to stop shouting.
- Carl pouting in the corner because no one is listening to him.
- Nat King Cole failing miserably.
- My husband looking at me from across the room wondering how he managed to scoop up this crazy chick.
- Annie wailing because Baby Jesus jumped out of the Nativity and onto her toe. On purpose.
- Charlie the Elf calmly sitting by and taking it all in for Santa.
Man, we're in trouble.
Merry Merry Merry with a Capital M Christmas y'all!
Unto Us a Child is Born
Lo How a Rose e'er Blooming
In an attempt to possibly not work for the rest of our lives, my husband and I decided to really scale back and get down to the basics of having just what we need. With me having a career in real estate (if you can call it that) it's kind of a no-brainer. Just recently we moved to new place that is 1/3 of the one we previously had and I am now living in a home the same size of my first college apartment. Tar River anyone? Don't get the wrong the place is totally adorable. Our sweet treehouse is in Trey's extended family and was actually built by his grandfather which is pretty cool. The house is robin's-egg blue and is perched amongst some really pretty live oaks so while you sit out on the top deck you really do feel like a bird in your little cozy nest. I am thankful to have it, the kids love it and we are getting to spend a lot of quality time with one another. All up on each other. Every day. All snuggly buggly together. Close. All the time. Together.
Dear God ... I don't think I'm going to survive this.
You see, I am more of a "multi-room" kinda gal. The treehouse has 3 bedrooms / 1 bath upstairs with the living area and kitchen making the other 1/2 of the house. Did I mention that it is round? So basically you are either in your bedroom OR in the open living space looking at each other. Don't feel like listening to the TV? Go to your room. Have looked at your sister all day and need some relief? Go to your room. Annoyed with your husband for any reason at all? Go to your room. I'm not joking here people. Either we are together as a family or you are in your room. Alone with every stitch of clothing stuffed into the closets, toys stacked in organizers to the ceiling and every framed picture we own, nailed to the walls because there is simply just not another inch of space to display it. No, my dream home would have a sprawling floor plan with countless rooms. The kind of home where you decide to just visit the other side of your estate and upon opening a door you've never entered there sits a kid you forgot you had. "Oh HEY there little Sasprilla! How's the last 6 years been treating ya? Wondered where you crawled off to".
Listen, I love my kids ... adore truly, but we haven't spent this much "together time" since they were in my womb. And with the weather turning colder and it getting darker at like 4 pm, we are all stuck inside the treehouse surrounded by boxes upon boxes of absolute crap that I am just too exhausted to deal with. Seriously. Where in the hellz do you put your 4th set of pottery plates that you just HAD TO HAVE when you got married? Why didn't anyone say that unless I am planning on feeding an entire town, having 36 dinner plates really isn't needed? I am officially an every day china hoarder. Probably should add platter hoarder to that title too since I own countless platters in every size, shape, and type you could ever want. Aunt Beatrice is having a garden party and needs a frosted Amaryllis shaped platter? Done. Wine and Cheese gathering? Got your oval grape infused number right here. Old school clam bake? BAM! Rustic bowls and oblong ditties coming at ya. Fancy Smancy? Engraved silver beauties at your service. With handles? Of course. Decorated with flowers, boats, barns, your mother ... yes yes and yes. Relish tray? What decent southern girl doesn't? Glass cake platter? I can't believe you even asked me that.
So while the rest of the world is spending their days in the further most corners of their home not speaking to one another for days, the Stidham crew is talking to one another from across the house with excellent clarity and spending another day of together time in our little blue treehouse ...... counting plates.
