reformed scrooge

Ahem. Okay, I admit I’ve been a total scrooge the past few weeks. This is normally my favorite time of the year, and I typically waste no time getting the tree up and the cookies baked, cinnamon simmering on the stove and Christmas songs floating through the house. This year is a little different. Of all this birthdays, anniversary, and holidays he’s missing, this one is by far the hardest. I haven’t been willing to face it, so I’ve avoided the Christmas aisles in stores and kept the carols buried in the cabinet. I’ve been a grinch. Or a scrooge. Or a little of both. I’ve been a grooge.

Guilt finally drove me to get the tree up. More specifically, it was Jackson admiring the tree in Shakey’s lobby, going “Mommy, are we going to have a tree?”

There’s nothing like a 4-year-old to get you through your pity party.