The Magic in the Mess

If we are being brutally honest, those joyous Christmas photos flooded with happy faces don’t tell the whole story.  Unless you are swimming in a land of denial, there will be kinks in the celebration of the holiday.   This is my first Christmas without my appendages aka my kids and husband.  This isn’t a lame attempt for pity because by 4 pm, I can imagine many of you will be envious of me.   My small gathering of family will arrive to the smells of Honeybaked ham and all the sides courtesy of online ordering.  Due to my leg issues, I am incapacitated, but never fear, for the holidays are the foundation for the unexpected.

We opened gifts last night in preparation of them leaving early this morning.    As my boys get older, the spirit of the season is slightly tainted by the hormones of the men occupying this house.   It wasn’t warm and fuzzy, hell, it was brutal.    Truth be told, I would have loved to have shoved their presents where the sun don’t shine, but that would not the very kind or holiday like.

The point of this blog entry today is to not take the moments of the day too seriously.   After the whole gift opening, we were able to come back as a unit to enjoy a lovely Christmas eve.   My parting thoughts aren’t dwelling on the perfection of the season, instead of the insanity that I love about our family.   We are a magical mess.

So, today, focus on the good, laugh at the unavoidable, push aside the need for the perfect Norman Rockwell Christmas and acknowledge that perfection doesn’t exist.   Most of all, breathe in the good shit and exhale the bullshit.   Merry Christmas!!!!


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