Each year, when we decorate our tree, my family reminisces about Christmases past. These ornaments are a treasure of the places we lived, snaggly teeth and bad haircuts, and fleeting childhoods.
So precious. Until you consider that I have five children. Five children who each get an ornament every year. If you’re doing the math, that will eventually equate to 95 pictures.
Can you imagine being hopelessly in love with your boyfriend, excited to spend your first holiday together, and finding out his mother has 95 photos of her children adorning the family tree? As in, five less than 100.
There is not enough tres leches cake in the world to make that seem normal. Not that marrying into my wild family will be anything close to normal. The ornaments are probably the least of my worries.
But isn’t that the best part of the holidays? Gathering with our favorite people who know us well and love us anyway. In spite of, in my case, my ridiculously decorated tree and the embarrassing desire to be liked in the future by a girl who, as of the time of this writing, is wearing mom jeans on purpose.
Perhaps I should chill out on my future role and enjoy the one I currently have: adoring the five children I proudly display and investing in our relationships in such a way that there’s no place they’d rather be than home for Christmas.
The free babysitting will just be icing on the tres leches cake.