...and when I say "done", I don't mean that I'm done shopping and wrapping and decorating, and am sitting here with a warm cuppa joe revelling in my own awesomeness.
I mean, I am done.
The living room is void of all furniture right now. It is a room filled with a Christmas tree aglow and a massive metropolis of train tracks, tressels, car roads, tunnels, and a zillion little train wash stations, gas stations, quarry loading docks, and tidmouth sheds. The trim on the floors is missing, the walls untextured, and the occasional dust bunny scurrying by.
The family room has an abundance of seating now, thanks to the couches moved in from the living room, so much so that you can barely maneuver into the kitchen, and that's only if you can turn sideways and still be thinner than 2 feet. There are boxes of Christmas decorations stacked up in the corner, the floors are not done, and is that an old bag of cracker jacks behind the lamp? Hmm.
I have a lot to do.
But I'm done.
The train infested living room is full of sweet little chugga chuggas, and horns honking. It's the swishing of an engine being washed, its the wailing of a tiny man falling of the big mountain bridge, only to be caught by the helicopter passing by. It's softly singing O Holy Night in the background and full of little ones in footie pajamas caring not about the dust bunny they swept up with their fleecy little bums.
The crowded family room is warm and bright and always has a Christmas movie playing, even though he would rather watch football, but it's Christmastime, and he knows momma loves her some holiday movies as she runs about trying to fight the chaos that is always abounding in a home. And he secretly pets the dog he hates and stealthily allows the cat to snuggle up to his legs without shooing her off, and I just smile and load the dishwasher.
I have no shopping done. I have nothing wrapped.
My house is torn apart and unfinished.
But, I am done.
Because this is home.
And it's Christmastime.
And everyone else is relaxing and loving our home just like it is.
And what good is it to stress about having it all done and perfect, when, really, only I am bothered by it?
Sometimes I'm so stupid!
After all, the king of kings himself, was born in a manger. With dust bunnies, and animal smells, and hay, and dirt.
And HE turned out just perfect.
I'm just going to enjoy the holiday.
If you come to see us, we'd be glad to have you among the mess, anytime.
If you come to see our house, make an appointment.
Because I'm done until the season ends!
And because you really only come for the eye candy, some random instapics.
|A day of sledding|
|evan's idea of sushi: crab meat & rice|
|bento box for baby girl.|