Sentimentality

Ahh, the holidays. The glow of the lights on the tree, the movies, the music. The wonder on the children's faces as the tree goes up and the lights go on. The giggles as they find the perfect spot for each ornament.

Ha. Ahhahahaha.

And then there is reality. The irritation of plugging in a strand of lights that worked just fine last year but only light up half way this year.

There's the frustration when your child is rummaging through the boxes of ornmanents as you fight with the lights. She takes one out, oooohs and ahhhs over it and then, rather than putting it down, she hands it to you so she can take another one out.

I asked Olivia nicely to stop handing me things when she was perfectly capable of putting them down. She didn't listen. The third time she handed me an ornament after looking at it for a half a second, I snapped.

Then I felt awful because this is supposed to be fun, it's supposed to be joyous. It's supposed to be when we make memories and create traditions.

Instead, my shoulders hurt from stringing lights and hanging ornments on the top half of the tree. My ankles hurt from climbing up and down on a chair to reach the top of the tree.

I'm tired and I am so ready for my darling children to go to sleep. Instead, I just spent twenty minutes scratching various parts of Olivia's body while Alyssa held my other hand, constantly pressing in on the veins that are fairly prominent. She loves to do that. It drives me insane. But I try not to say anything because...she loves to do it.

But for now, the tree is up. And it's pretty and the girls always seem to forget that putting up the Christmas tree turns mommy into a raging lunatic.