Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree...

What kind of Christmas tree do you put up in your house (if you put a Christmas tree up at all)?

 

Are you a Martha Stewart, with every color-coordinated ornament carefully and specifically placed?

Or does your tree contain a mish-mash of objects?

Perhaps your tree is filled with homemade items?

 

My tree tells a story.

Each year, as I carefully unwrap each ornament, I think about the history of that ornament.

Whose hands it rested in before mine? 

 Whose hands had carefully crafted such an item?

Whose tree had each piece hung on?

 

 

Some of my ornaments are very old and have been handed down through many generations.  They have hung on many trees through the decades.

 

 

 

Some are from first Christmases.

 

 

 

Some were made especially for my tree, by the young and old and in-between.

Some of these were made by friends and family no longer with us.

 

 

Some hung on my childhood tree and some were picked out especially for my tree.

 

 

 

My tree tells a story.

And for one brief period of time, all of the pieces of my story hang beautifully in my living room.

 

Merry Christmas everyone!





 

 

Why, Oh Why, Do I Need Anxiety Meds?

On a recent trip to my doctor's office, I asked to review my current meds because I was feeling like my anxiety meds weren't working up to par.

Tell me what's going on, he said.  What's got you stressed out?

Well, doc, sit back and I'll tell you about my day yesterday...

Let me give you some background.  I live with 3 boys.  No offense, doc, but that should explain quite a bit right there.  One boy I will call "Lazy".  One boy I will call "Narcissist".  The third I will just call "Mate".

Okay, so back to a walk through my day.  The alarm clock went off at 6 am.  I don't need to leave for work until 7:30, but that first hour of the morning is the most peaceful hour of my life, so I don't squander it.

6:00am      I make my coffee and sip it in silence, the only sound is my keyboard as I peruse a little Facebook in solitude.

6:35am      Lazy flies through the house.  Can you give me a ride?  I'm running late and I need to get to school.

6:42am      I quickly get dressed.  I can't find my shoes.  Where the hell are my shoes?

6:43am      Mate announces, from the bed where he is now wrapped up in ALL of the blankets, that Narcissist is sick (uh-huh), so he is going to stay home with him.  He thinks he might be coming down with something too.

6:48am      Lazy announces that he has no clean clothes.  Did you bring your dirty laundry downstairs?  YES, I DID!  When?  I didn't see it down there?  AT MIDNIGHT LAST NIGHT.  WHATAMIGOINGTODO???  Looks like you'll have to go grungy today, mate.

6:50am      I still can't find my goddamned shoes.

7:00am      Lazy, miraculously dressed in clean(ish) clothes would like to leave a little early so that we can stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way.  Okay, after I find my freakin' shoes.

7:05am      I found my shoes.  Wayyyyy under the bed.  There was only a little cat puke on them, no big deal.

7:45am      Lazy dropped off, Mate and Narcissist still snuggled up in their respective cocoons, I am finally at work.

~Flash forward to 5:30pm~

 

5:30pm      I have a raging headache, one of our teachers called out sick so I played substitute to a group of 10 toddlers.  I officially hate the song "The Wheels On The Bus" and soybutter makes me puke in my mouth just a little bit.

 

5:50pm      The friggin' bridge is up.  The friggin' bridge is up.  The friggin' bridge is up.

 

6:10pm      Six cigarettes later, I am home.  I haul my sorry ass up over the stairs.

 

6:12pm      I quickly realize that no one has started dinner.  Where the hell is everyone?

 

6:15pm      Peel potatoes.  Chop potatoes.  Throw veggies and sausage in a dish.  Where the hell is everyone?  Oh, there's Lazy.  No, I just got home, I haven't done laundry today.  You know where the washer and dryer are.

 

6:20pm      Narcissist and Mate have made a miraculous recovery.  They've been out working on the truck all day.  Oh.

 

6:30 pm     Well, if we're going to use silverware to eat our dinner, I suppose I'd better clean some.  Turn on Ipod (on dock) to make it just a little more bearable.

 

6:35pm      Grooving to The Goo-Goo Dolls.  Narcissist = think you could turn that down a little?  I can't hear the TV (SpongeBob? Really?  You are 17!).  Sure, as soon as I unclog the drain from all the food y'all stored down there.

 

6:45pm      Mate decides now would be a good time to take a shower.  That's okay, the sausages need to be turned anyhow.

 

7:15pm      Dishes done, timer goes off.  Dinner cooked.  Is THAT what we're having?  I'll have a toaster waffle.

 

7:30pm      I retire to my corner to blog, don't anybody bug me, you hear?!

 

Okay, says doc, here is your prescription.