Of course, the thing to do about Christmas is let it come. But as it comes, it seems to blow in with extra force. Some years I’m up to it, but this year I’m going to have to lay low. That means only doing the necessary things, or the things I’ve already begun. I spent at least an hour one night searching for a nice printable advent calendar I could use with my kids. Then, I realized I don’t need a calendar to give my kids extra candy, or a calendar that I make by doing crafty things late into the night, or a calendar that demands I bake cookies on a certain day and drive into town to see Christmas lights on another day. I don’t even need a calendar to tell me which Bible verse to read every day. We’re already doing Bible class for school. I’ll just keep doing that. So, no calendar.
What am I doing for Christmas? Well, I believe we’ll be caroling in a couple nights with my church. But maybe not. It’ll be a late night, I think, and if we’re not up to a late night, I might skip caroling this year.
I’m involved in a low-key Christmas program at church. Low key is good. I hope the other kids practice at home. We practice at home as part of our school day now. I think “O come, o come Emmanuel” is my new favorite Christmas song.
I already ordered my usual Christmas photo cards, and I think they’re cute, but I suppose it’s cute in an artsy way and not really in a Christmas-cardy way. I haven’t mailed any of them yet. I began that, though, so I suppose I will finish.
I will bake. Baking is fun. But I certainly won’t bake ten batches of cookies in one day. No, no. I do one recipe at a time. We eat them. I make more. That’s how it works this year.
There will be a tree, eventually. There will be presents under it. I’m not going to wrack my brain thinking of the perfect gift for my husband. I’ll just save him his money, I guess. On Christmas Day there will be church and the annual potluck from my dad’s side of the family. I wonder if my husband will even be at it. He’s trying to kill himself working. He even took up cigarettes. I’m not happy about it. He can go smoke with the cows on Christmas afternoon. Fine with me.
I will make my favorite sherbet-7up punch periodically throughout the season. I will even buy myself some egg nog. But maybe not. Nobody but me likes it. I’d probably feel guilty drinking it this year.
I put The Father Christmas Letters by J.R.R. Tolkien on hold at the library. That book is so funny. Last year we read it in my son’s room, eating pizza and pretzels at a card table. I’m not sure why we were doing that. But that’s the kind of book it is–you remember what you were doing while you were reading it.
And that’s about it. My daughter would like me to decorate the house like Fancy Nancy does. Nope. Not me. She’ll have to do that when she has her own house. I’m no Fancy Nancy. I’m just waiting for January.