It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year....

In my mind I am skipping through the house, blissfully singing, "It's the most wonderful time of the year! It's the hap-happiest season of all!" (I actually do this twice a year, because...to me...the first day of school, when I send the Bug and the Pea packin' is truly THE most wonderful time of the year...But I digress...)
Last night we put up the Christmas tree. Well, the trees. I know what you're thinking..."I bet she puts up theme trees! Perhaps one with a UK theme, and one with ornaments all red & gold, and one with..." (Thank you for thinking I have the decorative prowess to accomplish such a feat, unfortunately, far from it...)
The Bug and the Pea each have a tiny 12" tree they decorate with tiny ornaments and place in their rooms. And of course we have our family Christmas tree.
We have a process, nothing that would ever be described as "military precision," yet it works for us. The husband hauls the ginormous cardboard box of branches down from the attic. He looks a bit Frankenstein-ish...holding the box against him, wrapping his arms around it, completely blinded as the box is bigger than he is, taking awkward steps forward. I shoo the kids out of his way to avoid certain death should the box crash and crush a child or two. Once the box is close to where the tree will be built, the husband collapses onto a kitchen chair.
The Bug and the Pea know the drill: organize the branches by length. They pull the artificial branches from the box and make piles all around the den. They examine the diagram instructions, and get to work. The Bug places the branches on the metallic tree "trunk" and the Pea "fluffs." The two finish the bottom few rows of branches andd then scramble to find stools. Standing on the stools they complete a few more rows. I help finish the top while they race to find the lights.
The husband plugs in each light strand and the Bug unrolls said strands across the kitchen floor. For a moment, our home looks like an airport runway, streaks of tiny lights line the lower level. The Pea is ready to light the tree! She picks up each strand and the husband circles the tree from the bottom to the top and back down again. The Bug and I smile, it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!
My most favorite part is the ornaments. Each ornament has a story. The glittery plastic ballet dancer from my babysitter when I was six. The teal felt star I made in Sunday School when I was in kindergarten. The Santa Claus ornament I bought with my allowance from the Santa Shop in elementary school. The plastic skis from my first (and not coincidentally...last) youth group ski trip. Ornaments from the year I graduated high school, college, first apartment, first house...first child. Ornaments celebrating the birth of the Bug, the birth of the Pea...ornaments we've begun to collect based on THEIR first experiences. My most favorite are the homemade ornaments. Dough shaped into gingerbread boys, feathers on paper doves, pipecleaner wreaths.
Strands of pearls are draped across the tree (primarily the lower portion, where the kids can reach...) The bottom branches are laden with the kids' favorites. The very top with our crystal and glass ornaments. To an innocent onlooker, the tree was thrown together in haste. With no attention to symmetry, balance, color coordination or theme. But to me, it's Christmas. A celebration of memories, tangible reminders of what I have become, of who I am, of who I've helped create, stories told with popsicle sticks and clothespins, yarn and felt, cottonballs and ribbon, fingerprints and fingerpaint...