Friday, December 12, 2008

Falling Behind the Tree

A Typical Face
Dear Charlotte,
This has been an incredibly busy week at our house. Mommy has been superhero slammed trying to get ready for Christmas. Which usually entails stacks and stacks of lists of the things to do, buy, and organize before we start making the rounds to visit all of our families. Which reminds me. They should invent a gift-wrapping machine.
This year is a little different for us, because you'll be part of the family road trip equation. If you thought Thanksgiving involved lots of family and driving, Christmas is going to blow your mind. We're talking the Hurst family re-enactment of 8 Crazy Nights. Cuz that's what it is. 7 Christmas celebrations in 8 nights. (Note to future you: if ever, EVER, the word divorce crosses your mind, just think about how many different families you grew up having to visit on holidays, and don't inflict that on your children.)
I read another blog this morning while I was sipping my raspberry tea at my desk at work, and it mentioned Christmas trees, and how they bought the huge tree, but also more, tiny Charlie Brown trees for each of the kids to decorate however they chose. That inspired me to do the same for you when you are old enough to decorate your own tree. Or age one, whichever comes first. You are already proving that once you get an idea stuck in your head, you don't let it go until you've mastered it. And once you've mastered it, watch out.
I could easily be the happiest person in the universe spending my every waking moment playing on the floor with you and Daddy and the dog, buying Christmas presents, and taking baths with Lush's amazing bath bombs. But since I haven't figured out how to convince the world that money is overrated, I cannot stop earning it (which would free up all of my time to perform said activities above), and thus I will continue my days trying to find the happy in everything I do. And I will continue to try and see everything through your eyes, with their magical ability to find joy in every little speck of life.
Love,
Mommy




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