Bah.

Why does having the Christmas spirit mean that I have to drape every inch of my house with fake greenery and hokey decorations? How on earth could I ever feel like fa-la-la-ing when my halls are already decked with with backpacks, shoes, dirty dishes, bags of groceries, piles of papers, and tossed-aside clothes?

Christmas, I was just not that in to you.

But the kids persisted, worrying that Christmas was getting closer and closer and we still did not have the tree up. So I very half-heartedly (is there such thing as quarter-heartedly?) agreed that we could start the decorating Sunday night. The tree came up. Then the box of ornaments. Then the four boxes of more stuff. I became less enthusiastic as more junk found its way upstairs.

The kids took care of the tree and I got to work on my job of filling every possible surface with all things Santa, snowmen, and nativities, dragging my feet all the way.

Until I was done. I just had to be done.

Next year the counters will be wiped down, the table will be cleared off, blankets will be folded and put away, and the house will generally be in a much neater state before we add more clutter. Lesson learned.

Monday afternoon I was feeling much more positive towards the most wonderful time of the year. While I didn't put out everything that I have in the past, the untrained eye will never know. Glenn put the lights on a timer and the empty boxes back downstairs. And by Monday evening we were ready for the crowning moment of Christmas prep.

Yeah, this is the first year Glenn has not had to assist in the tree topping.

So I've finally come around. It is looking a lot like Christmas around here. And I'm ok with that.