Bustin' at the Seams

There are so, so, SO many reasons I adore my husband. Every Christmas, I remember a specific quality that I really love. He loves Christmas as much as I do. And that, my friends, is a whole heck of a bunch! Really, it's kind of out of control. I can't really help it. It's what I grew up with. I've always appreciated my parents' approach. They do it up big- Christmas spirit takes over, my mom outdoes herself every year baking and decorating, my dad still clings to the "fact" that Santa is real, and his spirit overtakes his body every year, thus, he becomes Santa. Their home becomes Christmas central, in all the best ways. Laughter radiating through each room, Christmas music softly playing, cozying up with White Christmas and Christmas Vacation, sipping hot chocolate, smells of pine and cedar and baked goodness wafting throughout the house. It was always magical growing up. I remember wondering if the magic would subside once I "grew up." Well, either I haven't grown up yet, or I can answer that question with a big, jolly, No, no, no! Christmas magic is still bustin' at the seams. And I'm loving every bit of sparkle.

We've been ridiculously busy lately, and I wasn't sure I could live up to my parents' Christmas spirit standards, even though compared to the average person, I'm certifiably insane. Then I saw this photo. The one I'd staged and plan to send to all of our loved ones. I think I was worried for nothing; our Christmas spirit scale tipped over and fell into a pile of ornaments and garland, at our poor kitty's expense. It was hilarious. And yes, I realize I need a child.