I have a confession to make. I’ve been faking it. This year, I’ve faked the Christmas spirit. Dallas went to Afghanistan four days after Thanksgiving. It’s the worst time of year for a soldier to deploy. I think most of us have been treading water, just waiting for Christmas to pass so we could get to a normal place. It’s hard to do this by yourself, especially when you are used to having someone else. Someone to help pick out the presents, wrap them, put them together. Especially when that person is on the other side of the planet. Especially when the stupid, measly presents you sent him a month ago still haven’t arrived. Thanks for nothing USPS.
It sucks. A lot.
I tried. I’m not sure I succeeded. My mom came, which helped a lot. Dallas’ Dad and his wife even bought presents for the boys instead of just sending cash so that I would have one less thing to do. Every little bit helps, it really does.
I tried to make the cash value of the big kids gifts even. I’m not so good at math, so there’s a chance I owe Taryn a new outfit. She doesn’t mind much.
If I slighted John, he made up for it in cookies.
Jackson got the ferocious dinosaur he’d always wanted.
Jackson’s the one in black.
Christmas is a long day. Luckily we had some great friends to help us pass the time. I had an open house on Christmas day for my Army family. I said it was because I didn’t want anyone to be alone on Christmas. That’s a lie. It’s because I didn’t want to feel alone on Christmas. I’m pretty sure they all knew and just played along.
I also wanted to take a picture where my hooters looked ginormous.
Can we just stop talking about Christmas for the next nine months? Thanks.