Does anyone else despise trips to the post office? I put off mailing packages until it just cannot be put off any longer. I've hear there is a way to pay the postage online and print a label for the package. It sounds like a great alternative, but these packages will not fit in my mailbox.
Today is the day to build a bridge and get over it. Off to the post office I go with only 2 boys in tow. The lines are shorted than usual. I imagine most prefer to shop and ship online for out of town loved ones. I am bargain hunting too much for that this year. So we are at the post office. It isn't too long before we approach the counter and unload the gifts for inspection and postage. I decline to add extra postage to send the items express mail and the clerk almost goes postal on me:
YOU KNOW THEY PROBABLY WON'T ARRIVE BEFORE CHRISTMAS.
That's fine, as long as they arrive before Epiphany. After all, Christmas is a season, not just a holiday. Did I just grow a third head? It doesn't go over very well with the post office worker.
Honestly, if it was up to me, we would let Advent be Advent and not even put up the tree until Christmas Eve. We would delay our gift exchange until the feast of the Epiphany. I am totally disgusted with the commercialism that has stolen our holy season. The girls are all on board with the idea of modifying our tradition. After all, we are unconventional homeschooling DIYers. But the males in the family have other opinions. They like keeping our customs as usual. So we compromise. We do hold out until the pink candle is lit. After all, there should be some joy on Gaudete Sunday. Even then I drag my feet. This year my husband comes up to the class room to remind me that the house is not yet decorated and it just doesn't feel like Christmas. I remind him that it actually isn't Christmas, just yet. But it is the eve before we would light the pink candle so technically he is free to let the children have at the tree and decorations. Everything comes down from the attic and the house is soon abuzz with excitement. I continue to grade papers, not because I am disinterested, but because I don’t want to ruin it. You know how I am. Every piece of tissue that hits the floor as each ornament is unwrapped will be scooped up and deposited into the nearest trash can. The furniture will need to be adjusted to accommodate the tree, but then there will be a mound of dust bunnies to sweep up and so on. Certainly it will be better for mom to cozy up with a cup of tea and a stack of essays while the family has at it downstairs. After an hour or so, Dear Husband trods back upstairs.
It just isn't the same without you.
I concede. How long do you think it takes for everyone to drop the project and head to the future "man cave" in the garage to watch the football game? I will tell you. Exactly 15 minutes. I am left in the middle of a disaster area. It looks like the holiday isle at Wal-Mart blew up in my living room. So I reorganize the boxes, discard the trash, move the furniture, sweep the dust bunnies (and the crackers, and candy wrappers, and pencils, and unrecognizable food items), rearrange the room, decorate the mantle, wrapped garland around the stair rail, and display the nativity sets.
See the light flash in the window?
That was lovingly placed there by my angel, Gina. Regina came back inside to lovingly unwrap and admire each ornament. If only I could see this project through her eyes. Christ asks me, everyday, to be like this precious child.
DH comes in at half time, in quite a huff. Is his team losing? Probably, but he is really upset that we didn't decorate as a family. OK. I know I should have ignored the mess and hid in the classroom with my hot tea and papers at least until the game was over. But my obsessive/compulsive Martha side would not allow it. Didn't I warn him?
See the light flash in the window?
That was lovingly placed there by my angel, Gina. Regina came back inside to lovingly unwrap and admire each ornament. If only I could see this project through her eyes. Christ asks me, everyday, to be like this precious child. DH comes in at half time, in quite a huff. Is his team losing? Probably, but he is really upset that we didn't decorate as a family. OK. I know I should have ignored the mess and hid in the classroom with my hot tea and papers at least until the game was over. But my obsessive/compulsive Martha side would not allow it. Didn't I warn him?









