This time of year always brings some mixed feelings to my days. The memories of Christmas when I was a kid flutter through my mind on any given day. I think of the first Christmas Mike and I were married and just starting our lives together. I fondly recall holidays with our own kids and how our children always bring wonder to the season. But, to be quit honest, sometimes, I feel as though I am not creating a festive enough time of Christmas for our kids.
Living on the move has its perks and disadvantages. One of the those disadvantages can be the guilt that we aren’t “normal” like everyone else. For instance, this year Mike wanted to get an artificial tree for our rig as we will be picking up and moving to Utah on December 20th. The idea of traveling with a real Christmas tree was too much for him to handle. I ordered the tree from Amazon, and it was promptly delivered two days later, thank you Prime. When I opened the box, however, I discovered that there were no legs for the tree to stand on. I called the manufacturer and they were quick to let me know that they would send the missing legs within a week. It’s been a week today…no legs.
Tomorrow I will get on the phone with National Tree Company and try to get stupid legs for my Christmas tree sent again, or possibly just purchase another tree and ship this one back. Ugh!
Anyway, this silly business with the legless tree has my “mom guilt” flourishing. “Am I creating a festive atmosphere for my kids?” “Am I RUINING their CHILDHOOD because we’re getting our tree up ‘late’ for us??” Um…no.
With all of the insanity around us in the world, our kids, our family has a space we’ve created called “home”. Yes, for us it is a 400+ square foot rig that we tow around the country, but when we open the door and head inside from a long day of Christmas shopping, karate classes, book clubs, and whatever else, we feel an instant sigh of relief. We feel a “welcome home” hug as we walk up the stairs into the rig.
My kids may remember the “legless Christmas tree” when they grow up, but I also know they will remember the hot cocoa, the time Jensen and I strung lights outside our rig, the moments shared around a good book, the time Emma and I made Christmas cookies. That’s what they’ll remember.