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| Gingerbread Houses this year |
It's been a Grinchy few weeks. I normally love Christmas. I like to deck our halls and listen to holiday music and watch sappy holiday movies for months, but this year I'm having a harder time finding the joy. I always look forward to Christmas. I had all my shopping done by Halloween this year in an effort to focus on being present and joyful and having a shorter to-do list in the month of December.
Then we decided to buy a house. We were supposed to close on December 11th, but the sellers have had some issues, and we're now not going to close until January 8th at the earliest. But for a solid month, we thought we'd be in our first home for Christmas. I leapt into action, packing, purging, organizing. In my productive whirlwind, my children definitely started to feel ignored, so I scaled back, but still worked with a goal in mind, feeling so excited to be in my own home. Then we got the news about the delayed closing, and I was angry.
It was December 4th when we found out everything was delayed. I was upset. My apartment is virtually packed. I have limited kitchen and bathroom stuff out. Most of the toys are packed. My baby is sleeping in a pack n play surrounded by boxes in our extra kitchen. And now that had to be sustained for more than another month instead of a mere week. I was so angry that none of these issues were disclosed. I had felt so led to this house, and now it just wasn't coming together.
I complained to Ty that our Christmas was ruined. Instead of being together as a family in our first home, we are going to be in our tired basement apartment for the third time. There is going to be more snow when we move. We had to change plans with our landlords. It also meant another month without a garage which is kind of a big deal when you’re loading and unloading two small children in the snow. I had just gotten to a peaceful place in my heart about leaving this community I’ve loved so much. I was moving forward instead of being sad about all we're leaving. And then I had to take two steps back.
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After I cried and complained, I decided at least I could put up our tree and get out our stockings. I set up the tree, but it wasn't as joyful as some years. I decided not to put ornaments on it since Simon is so grabby and Will discovered that he loves to hide underneath and behind the tree. I went hunting for a stocking for Simon and couldn't find one I loved. We got out our train, but it’s stressful because my kids don’t know how to keep it on the tracks while they play with it. I haven't really been able to do the holiday baking I like to do because so much of my stuff is packed. I haven't had a very good attitude about it.
I got tickets to go to the zoo lights. My kids love the zoo. It’s one of their favorite places, and we’ve never been at Christmastime, so I thought it was a great idea. And the lights were amazing, but Will threw a fit for the first 20 minutes because he didn't want a coat or shoes, and he wanted me to hold him instead of being in the stroller. And even though he cheered up, and Simon loved it, it felt like a slap in the face. I already was feeling far from jolly and my attempt to do something different and fun ended up being a power struggle. (Incidentally, everything is a power struggle with Will these days).
A hard stage with Will combined with a beastly 8 month sleep regression and all the house drama has left me feeling utterly defeated and in a more downtrodden mental state than I’ve experienced in recent memory. This time of year has always been magical for me, especially since I’ve been married. Usually, I’m reminiscing on our courtship and the weeks leading up to our wedding, or I’m remembering when I was “great with child,” waiting for Will to be born. Those were truly beautiful and sacred times that I treasure, and it always has felt poetic that they coincided with the celebration of the Savior’s birth.
This year is a survival mode Christmas I guess, and it hurts my heart to realize that. What I’m realizing this month (again) is that mortal life isn’t always joyful and exciting even though we want it to be. Sometimes we just survive, and that’s okay. I’m still talking to my kids about Jesus. We’re still reading stories together and talking about what gifts we want to give and what our hopes are. We’re still playing “I Spy” everywhere we go, looking for the symbols of Christmas. There’s disappointment here, but there is joy too, and there can be both. So Merry Christmas, everyone. My heart already feels too large and heavy for my chest, so I don’t think I can bear for it to grow three sizes like the Grinch, but I’d settle for a little Christmas miracle to lift my spirits and make things a little less gray and a little more jolly.
