Stress, It's part of the tradition

Every year, there are a few things that raise my blood pressure just a bit in getting ready for the holidays. But every year, I forget them. I liken it to childbirth. You forget how much it hurts until you are doing it again.

Every year the Tarn-X comes out. I curse the fact that I ever bought these stupid Santa stocking holders from Pottery Barn. I dig for gloves and cotton balls and stand in the kitchen and rub, rub, rub. And say never again, this is the LAST year, but then they just turn out so pretty.

Every year the tub of Christmas books comes out and of course the FAVORITE from the previous year is the one missing. They fight about what book we're reading every night, no matter that I have them draw the titles from a jar. Because half the time, I put the title back and tell them to draw again. Yes, it might be my fault that I have 17 different versions of The Night Before Christmas, but I don't necessarily want to read them all.

Every year, we paint their handprints to add to the tree skirt and I holler after them the whole way down the hall, "Do not touch anything!!" They do.

Every year, they decorate the tree in two minutes flat and I now have absolutely no say so in where any ornament goes. But next year, I'm hoping there will be a second tree and maybe then I can at least hang the angel ornament from when I was a baby.

And then I try to get a decent picture of them in front of the tree. Which is never, ever gonna happen. So I choose to let them act stupid, they seem to do that well.

We've added a few more stresses traditions to our season.

He's back...

And not quite as effective as last year. But sometimes the threats still work. Of course I still manage to wake in a sweat around 3am when I realize I forgot to move the damn elf!

Here we grow again.

I'm a glutton for punishment. I am bound and determined to be able to keep a stupid grasshead alive. Although Santa is looking a little doomed right from the get go. At least these guys are seasonal so it won't be too traumatic when I kill them.

Of course there are many more. The yearly fight with the banister and the garland. The yearly fight with the hubs to get lights in the yard. The trips to multiple grocery stores to find Borden Egg Nog, the rich recipe, because I'm a snob and that's all I'll drink. Making sure that everyone has the same exact number of gifts to open because you know they are counting. Trying to remember who's turn it is to put the ornament on the advent tree. Fitting two of the girls' birthdays into the mix. And don't even get me started on trying to take the Christmas card photo.

Which is why, every year, the best gift, is the gift certificate to the spa.