I Meant to Stop at the Tree Stand

With December’s calendar moving into overdrive, I’m making lists and adding stars and exclamation points and trying to figure out if I’ll ever be able to highlight more completed tasks than I add new ones each day.

Our highest priority Sunday was getting our Christmas tree. As usual, we seem to be racing against time to find a fir that meets my aesthetic standards and Ryan’s financial ones.

Needing our tree stand, Ryan pulled the rubber storage totes from the attic.

Dylan snoozed on the couch after falling asleep to Christmas music on the way home.

Abbey immediately wanted to dig into the shiny, sparkling, trinkets packed away so carefully last January. Visions of checklists pushed aside the dancing sugarplums of our beloved ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Hoping to quench her decorating thirst, I pulled the stockings and stocking holders from the box, clearing our mantle onto my little desk, hanging our four stockings across the white molding.

Despite pleas to play with something besides the holiday decorations, she pranced down the stairs, cradling a box of colored glass balls.

Almost reluctantly, I walked up the stairs for the ornament hooks, bringing her stool over to the wall where we decorated our giant candle holder with purple, gold, red, and green bulbs.

Her eyes sparkled more brightly than the ornaments, her spirit transfixing me to our task.

My eyes snagged on the mantle, the stockings looking lonely below our oversized mirror.

Minutes ticked by.

I adjusted poinsettias and filled a flower bowl with ornaments, moving things around and adding lights and oversized red balls behind the stocking holders.

More minutes ticked by, starred items pushed back and pushed back again.

We wrapped pre-lit garland around the banister.

We filled the tree with water, Abbey hurrying back and forth, Dylan using his “careful” walk, both hands clasping a small cup as he proceeds with deliberate steps towards the tree. 

Abbey fastened the oversized buttons of the tree skirt, smoothing and adjusting it until she was satisfied.

I’ve written twenty checklists. I have starred items and circled stars and made little notes in red Flair pen.

Minutes slide into hours, and my priorities shift into place, my to-do list forgotten until after bedtime.

this week's theme was priorities

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Next week we are going back to an open ended theme:Be Enough Me.
What gives you that be enough feeling?