It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

By: Angela Gillaspie Copyright © 2000

I've finally disposed of the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers. My poor family has endured a week of turkey tetrazzini, turkey salad, turkey omelets, turkey meatloaf, turkey enchiladas, turkey potpie, turkey parmesan, turkey on toast, turkey ala mode, and peanut butter and turkey sandwiches.

As I tossed the last of the turkey in the garbage, my three children informed me that all of our neighbors had their Christmas wreathes, swags, and lights up, fake reindeer out, and "Santa Stop Here" signs staked in their yards. "No fair!" my babies collectively whined.

The pressure to decorate is immense, but I won't give in until the week or so after Thanksgiving since I like to celebrate one holiday at a time. My kids' constant nagging and bewailing about the embarrassment of having no Christmas lights on our house and Mommy and Daddy's lack of Christmas cheer wore me down. Needless to say, this weekend we will begin our annual holiday decorating ritual.

Just like every year, the festivities started when I grabbed my clippers and attacked my boxwood and holly bushes with a vengeance. I cannot have a fake wreath on my front door, oh nooo. I must make a wreath and a swag for the mailbox and fireplace mantle. Why did I go to this trouble? Because it was prettier than fake stuff, it matches my other decorations, it's cheap, and best of all, no one else in my neighborhood had "real" swags and wreathes adorning their homes. I got this perverse sense of one-upmanship when I stood back and proudly viewed my work (and the pools of blood, bits of skin, and pieces of fingernails).

For decorating the inside, the major item was obviously the Christmas tree. First, my husband untangled the lights, carefully inspected each bulb on each strand, cursing under his breath all the while. When he finished, he went in the bedroom and watched a football game so that he could calm his nerves with regional championship games.

I then turned on Brenda Lee's Christmas tunes, and the kids and I sang along while I hung the multi-colored lights on the tree with my wrapped and wounded fingers.

When my dear husband finally calmed down, he hiked up to the attic and began an archaeological dig around the layers of old clothing, Easter baskets, and high school memorabilia for our ornaments.

We opened boxes, sneezed, and through the haze of attic dust we explained to our children what was expected of them. "Take an ornament and carefully put it on the tree - make sure you do not put them all in one place, and don't lick the candy canes - they aren't real," we instructed.

Without fail, they eagerly grabbed handfuls of ornaments and hung them all on the lower left side of the tree (while licking the candy canes). When all of the ornaments were placed, we turned off the overhead lights to admire our tree. Of course, there was a strand of lights that didn't work on top of the tree.

I agree with the Christmas carol that this was the most wonderful time of the year. There is more to Christmas than decorating our homes with blinking lights, wooden reindeer, and boughs of holly - it's a celebration of love. Love of family and friends, love of the miraculous birth, and love of not having turkey for dinner.

That time went by so fast, and I'm glad that I slowed down and savored each wonderful moment that occurred. The fun times were just as memorable as the crazy times. The way I survived was accepting the fact that things will go wrong - they have to - because if they didn't, I wouldn't have anything to write about.

Stay tuned for more of SouthernAngel's wonderful stories!