I am a reformed control freak. By reformed I suppose I mean that I know I
am, was, can be a controlling person who wants things just so. Christmas is a perfect example of what really gets my ire up. OK, once again I’m showing what a wreck I am. Yesterday I found myself at the hardware store ready to purchase lights for the house. Yes, outside lights. Just that is progress for me, twenty years it took. Colored lights and all the glitter and s*** that we’re supposed to buy for this holiday, and Halloween, and all the other supposed “Hallmark Holy Days” — Well I rebel.
Yes, I have been told that I am “no fun” when it comes to decorations at holidays of any kind. I don’t do ghosts in the trees at Halloween. I don’t do little plastic hearts on the windows on Valentine’s day. And I’ve felt sort of righteous in my snootiness.
Most especially at Christmas. From the year
I had my first tree we had our first tree, I have tried to control it. My need for control being off the charts I would allow no colored lights, only clear ones. No home-made ornaments, only accepting matching ones with a theme on my tree.
((Sigh)). I am reformed because we do have home made ornaments. And this year, after eighteen years of marriage, I have decided that it would be “festive” and “fun” to have lights on the house outside for all the world to see in their glorious tackiness I mean isn’t really all about the kids? And their imaginations?
And this didn’t help. Driving home the other night, I heard my ten-year old son counting out loud. When asked, he said, he was counting the number of people on our street that had “Christmas spirit.”
I knew this was the year. I was going to get some spirit, let go and lighten up and have a little fun. Who cares if the house is garish if it makes kids happy? Screw Martha Stewart. And so I found myself at the hardware store putting down the lovely-green-genuine-pine-wreath-that-matches-my-house, for the front door. And buying a bright red, bow that lights up. And colored lights. (Picture forthcoming.) Yes, I am a reformed control freak.
This isn’t about me. This year for Christmas I’m giving everyone a decidedly much better time.
Isn’t everyone controlling at Christmas, with expectations ramped up to 110% for perfection!?
In all honesty Christmas never lives up to expectations because it isn’t about us and whatever experiences we can conjure up.
It’s about a babe born to a girl, quite unexpectedly and miraculously, who grew up to give his life up for me. And you.