December madness is in full swing.
Each year I despise the chaos that comes with this season more and more.
Christmas is less than two weeks away and I haven’t bought a single gift. Our tree is up but the ornaments have yet to be hung. Christmas bins are still strewn across our house and garage.
Every December is crazy for us, especially with a birthday that takes precedence the first week. But I can’t remember a year where I felt like I was drowning this much.
Each day is a race just to survive. Between doctor appointments, mounds of homework, swim team, jumping full swing into the scouting program (which wasn’t even on my radar yet), design work, Christmas parties, preparing for Blake’s baptism and a new church responsibility that is taking hours of my time, I roll into bed somewhere around 1am each night, frustrated that I have no Christmas preparations under my belt.
What I would really love is to forget about Amazon Prime and addressing envelopes and instead bake cookies with my children, go to the live nativity, seek opportunities for service and watch our favorite holiday movies together.
That is just not going to happen this year.
So, I’m making peace with the one tradition we have managed to fit in amidst the mayhem.
Each night, the boys take turns picking a children’s Christmas book to unwrap and read next to our undecorated Christmas tree. We slow down and soak up the books we have grown to love over the years. It might only be a few minutes that each of their not-so-tiny bodies are snuggled up next to me on the couch, but I treasure those brief quiet moments in this season of nonstop activities.
I’m sure it will all come together in a mere 12 days. And if no ornaments or presents make their way to that tree, at least I captured those brown paper packages tied up with strings. Because they really are my favorite things.