It's Beginning To Look A Lot Like Christmas.... Everywhere But Here

This is what happens when your Christmas decorations are improperly stored in the desert hell that is Arizona. They melt.

Obviously, we've finally gotten around to pulling the boxes down to get some decorating done. Not sure why I'm in such a rush, though. The holiday isn't for another 13 days, after all. ;)

We have never put up outside lights. I know, I know. Its a sacrilege! However, I knew the score when I married Scrooge. Or maybe he's the Grinch. I'm not entirely certain. Both of them have NO holiday spirit until Christmas morning, and then they're the epitome of generosity. And no one EVER remembers them being pukes leading up to that point. Such is the attitude of Coach.

In years past, I could count on both boys to be excited about things. As I've mentioned before, Jock and I have created quite a few traditions for ourselves. They expanded to include Bug when he got old enough. They would start begging me to get out the decorations and put up the tree right after Thanksgiving. Once the tree was up, they would bounce around like little Jack Russel terriers waiting for me to sort the ornaments out, so that each boy had his own ornaments to hang. As each ornament was pulled out of the storage box, we'd all sit for a minute and remember life the year they made it. **oh yeah.... I'm not one of those super-together mommies.... my tree is not pretty; its covered completely in memory ornaments that my children have created over the years, with the ornaments that Coach and I made as children added in for filler** Meanwhile, Coach would sit over on the couch, trying to see around us to the TV, waiting for when I made a fuss for him to come re-locate the tree to the corner when we were done decorating it, and put the angel on top. (He's still the only one tall enough to do that without grabbing a kitchen chair!)

This year it has become GLARINGLY obvious that Jock is just like his father. When I told him I was going to be doing the tree tonight, he asked if he HAD to help me. HAD TO??? What happened to wanting to? I stood there for a moment, totally and completely baffled. When did decorating the tree become something not fun for him? (Ok, realistically, I know that when he hit teenage-dom he morphed almost overnight into some creature that lives only to torment me by repeatedly breaking my heart over little things. However, that is not the point here.)

So, being the wonderful, understanding mama that I am.... I told him that YES, he HAD TO come help me. After much groaning and posturing, he came and flopped down in front of the tree on his stomach. Cell phone in hand. Constantly buzzing with incoming text messages. I can only imagine what he was telling his friends. When I set his group of ornaments in front of him, he proceeded to place them only within reach of his arm, as apparently it was entirely too much to ask that he GET UP. People, this boy is almost six feet tall. All of his ornaments should at least be on the top half of the tree. Nope. They are all clustered in one spot at the bottom. Looks like it did when he was two. ** but I will point out that he recognized all of his ornaments; and reminded me of a couple that I had not handed to him...maybe he's not a total lost cause this year**

Bug on the other hand, still enjoyed it. He sat with me and talked about each of his ornaments. Giggled over a couple of baked clay ornaments that we can't identify, and no longer even remember what they were supposed to have been. And he took great pains to carefully place each ornament in a special spot on the tree; being careful not to put any other ornaments in the section dedicated to the stained glass nativity ornaments.

Finally, Bug and I hung the candy canes on the tree. In true Christmas pack-rat fashion, I really don't throw much away when it comes to decorations. If its not broke, I'll save it and use it next year. Consequently, our candy canes are about 12 years old, I think. Jock thinks this is hilarious, and plans to invite his friends over and offer them one. Then laugh hysterically at the faces they make over the stale candy.

I have to say, though, that I'm pleased with the finished product. After Bug went to bed, I sat there and just looked at my memories, lost in my own little world of Christmas Past. Jock came over and sat next to me, and said

Now THIS is Christmas, Mom.

So, yeah. Maybe he's not such a lost cause, after all.