It is no secret that I love Christmas decorations. Few people don’t. If it were up to me, we would keep the twinkly lights and glittery ornaments year round. And also daylight savings time. Both make things merry and bright.

Every year after Christmas, I hit up a sale or two to pick up a few things for the following year. Last year, I got these white trees for a steal. Then I stole SK’s lamp to give them a new home.

Don’t worry. He will get his reading light back when I store all the decor (in February). We (and by “we” I mean “I”) also collect new ornaments from places we visit during the year. Wells and G really enjoy unwrapping all of them when we decorate the tree. My personal favorites are the ornaments the kids make at school and Sunday school. I try to date each of them with a sharpie as soon as they make it home, but I have missed a few. It goes in the same guilt pile as their incomplete baby books.

Growing up, my family had a live tree. In my book, the way they smell makes up for the mess they make. The last few years our tree hasn’t smelled as wonderful as my childhood memories, so I supplement with candles and cleaning products (Mrs. Meyers Iowa Pine, Nest Holiday and Thymes Frasier Fir). It would really just be easier to go outside. At this point, you have probably noticed my Beyonce wreaths. If you like it then you should put a wreath on it.

We spend Christmas Eve and day with our extended family. When Wells was a little fella, we decided to have our family Christmas early so we could make some memories in our own home. Yep. Santa comes early. Everyone knows he needs a test run to make sure his reindeer and navigation system are operating properly. #duh

Speaking of Santa, the boys get to ask for three things for Christmas. Why should children get more than baby Jesus? It is his birthday, after all. This year they both asked for remote control helicopters and professional soccer/football/baseball clothes. Graham also asked for another science project. He thinks our house is his lab. I am hiding all the Sudafed.

One year, all I wanted was an Easy Bake Oven. Instead, Santa brought me a Sesame Street cooking set. It had tiny pans and cake mix that required a real oven. Really? Who lets a five year old use an oven? The plastic box with the tiny light bulb is dangerous enough.

I’m not bitter. Really.

Let’s just say it’s at the top of my mom’s guilt pile. Right above my incomplete baby book.