If you’ve been reading my Scrooge like rants about Christmas over the years, you’ll know I’ve struggled with the sheer work and commercialism of this season. But each year, as the kids have been getting older, I am finding a little extra joy in the festivities.
If your Facebook feed looks anything like mine, it’s currently flooded with gorgeous pictures of friends’ carefully decorated Christmas trees. I love seeing the individuality of each person’s designs; keepsake baubles from their childhood, souvenir ornaments from travels; homemade angels and stars on the top.
In between work shifts, my husband put up the tree. He left the box of decorations out for me and the kids complete the job on Sunday. However, after a weekend of school fairs, kids birthday parties and swimming lessons I could barely get sentences out, let alone co-ordinate children to complete this task. However, while I was in the kitchen clearing up and preparing the evening meal, they came running in.
“Mummy, we’ve decorated the tree, come and look, ” my eldest proudly proclaims.
Lo and behold, they have not only put on all the tinsel but hung the baubles and even put our makeshift angel on top. They made sure I saw how they had included my very own special ornaments which I had treated myself to this year (I’ll leave you to guess which ones from the photos). I hate tinsel with all of my heart, except this tinsel. It’s bloody special.
Predictably I am gushing. The green of my inner Grinch is fading. A little Christmas spirit has snuck in.