So, adding a last-minute work trip to the holiday schedule was NOT MY BEST FRIEND... but we made it work and on Sunday, went and picked out the tree. Not just any tree. THEEEE. TREEEE. The tree that was the perfect combination of not too tall and not too wide, but sturdy enough to handle some slightly heavy ornaments. I call it the cheerleader tree. It's very peppy and organic.
The girls have finally bought into the whole YAY! WE GET TO DECORATE FOR SANTA brainwashing that we've been encouraging for years, and were very excited to help. Actually, The Bird was excited to help. The Bean was excited to sit in her nightgown and poop on the flashcards we had left out. In her defense, she was constipated and I think the poopy surprised her as much as it surprised us. I think the second time she did it surprised us more than it surprised her, though. Because, you know... fool me once, yada yada yada. But fool me twice and I'm totally telling Santa.
Because he's a rock star, Benny decided to do a little time lapse of the decorating of the tree. And what you'll see when he finally has it finished is so heartwarming and holiday-ish that I almost don't want to burst that warm bubble of Peace on Earth you've got going by explaining exactly HOW. MUCH. IT. SUCKED.
So, I won't. Except to ask you to reflect on how much both of these girls absolutely OWN me on a daily basis, and then add a dose of holiday
And, I should clarify... it didn't suck. It's just so chaotic that by the end of the night, after the teeth were brushed and the stories about the Elf on the Shelf were told (and yes, Dino came to our house last night and decorated for mommy... and even hung up a picture that mommy's been procrastinating on doing for at least a year), let's just say that the silence that followed bedtime was freakin' magical. And hey, I've got the memories that will last me through Christmas but will magically disappear in time for decorating the tree next year so that I won't remember the crap that goes along with it and we'll hit repeat. And then, you know... it only takes doing something the same way for two years before it becomes a tradition.