The gates are flinging open and a gigantic truckload of tinsel and bon bons are about to tumble out. I’m high, you guys. And I can’t stop it. I can not. Christmas freak flag is fully raised. It’s so high I’m almost certain you could make out Istanbul from the top. But before I spray you kind, lovely, unexpecting people with all of my too-much, can I just tell you something else I love? Summer rains. I love the summer rains.
You know what the rain says? It says Hush Now. It whispers – Get into some cozy clothes. Bake some cheesy bites and watch Peppa Pig and Christmas movies all morning. And listen to me. Don’t feel guilty for one hot little second. Not for one. Because hellooo – it’s raining.
And then when you start to go stir crazy? Well goodness. Grab your boots and a “bella” and hit the streets for a rain walk. Get wet. Feel adventurous. Run home when it starts to pelt down, squealing as you go because it’s all just so insanely fun.
And when you get home? Snuggle under warm covers listening to the rain on your rooftop. Read Ruby Red Shoes. And Beatrix Potter. Think to yourself, these are the moments I always dreamed about. Feel overly sappy and sentimental. Kiss your girl until she wriggles away. Notice the rain has cleared up. Head out on a nature hunt. Collect flowers. Dig your hand through shells. Splash in puddles. Get soaking wet. Head home for a warm bubble bath. Do all of it, the rain says. Do it all.
And since that’s what the rain said, that’s exactly what we did.
Cue festive onslaught.
I heard the first radio Christmas carol of the season play on Friday as I was driving. Wedged between One Direction and Bryan Adams, the cheerful swooning of All I Want For Christmas is Yooo-uuuu took me by complete surprise and gave me a full-blown heart attack. Well goodness, I thought. WELL GOODNESS.
I’m not sure what’s been going on at your place, but at ours, rainbows have burst forth from pots of gold left out on our front steps. Whimsical beams of magic dust have been sent flying through the air. We’ve caught them on our tongues. We’ve stuffed handfuls into our pockets. We’ve brought them home and sprinkled them in every nook we can find.
Okay, maybe not, but nearly.
Yesterday morning, Christmas commenced. We woke up to Michael Buble’ swooning his swoony voice and telling us that it’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. We lit berry and spice scented candles and we opened our first Advent box. My heart was full as I watched Ella help us decorate the tree for the very first time in her life and as Joel lifted her up to put the star on top, I got that heart-stopping feeling that we are writing cherished stories in our family books. Traditions which hold so much meaning. Moments which bind us as family.
As Michael continued to serenade us, we Christmas-ified the rest of our home. Wreaths were put up, a million twinkly lights were strung, and I only had to beg Joel three times to get into the spirit of things. Definitely an improvement from last year.
And when the sun went down last night? That’s when the magic dust really started flying. Even Joel stood out in the middle of our street taking it all in. “Look. Lights,” Ella said just as I was putting her to bed, and since I am never one to dampen a Christmas fire, I obliged.
And with a full, overflowing, ridiculously sentimental heart, I am cruising on into this glorious month and I can’t wait to write more pages of my family’s stories.
Sending a heap of love from my family to yours.
Merry beginning of Christmas.