For professional photography sessions please visit www.redtentphotography.com

December

There’s really no other way to start this post than with a great giant cup of egg nog. I was in Woolworths yesterday, forgetting to put things in my trolley like, you know, dinner, and instead I flung in mangoes and ham and melting chocolate and lychees and mince pies and pavlova bases and aforementioned egg nog because IT’S DECEMBER YOU GUYS AND I AM ABOUT TO PASS OUT.

If I was an emoji, I’d be that Spanish dancing woman. Or the jazz hands one. Or just that bomb explosion. “Do you just feel like you’re internally combusting?” my friend said to me yesterday, a friend who loves Christmas as much as I do.

“I can’t talk about it,” I said. “Do not make me speak.”

It has been a pretty wretched two months. I will never, not ever, renovate another house again so don’t even ask me. If anyone hands me another tube of gap filler or asks me to pick up some more chamfer boards I will immediately cancel our friendship and lock myself in a cupboard for the following month. I had NO IDEA what we were getting ourselves into, in the same way that you can tell expectant mothers what to expect but until they’re pushing that baby out and staying up all night to feed and forgetting the last time they took a shower and loving this kid so much they feel like they might die, only then do they do look at you and say ohhhhhhhhhhh, riiiiight.

Anyway, enough about that. I’ll put together a house reno post another time. Right now, there is a Christmas tree to my left, full of a million stories; how much Ella loved shoes when she was two, Billy’s obsession with garbage trucks last year, the first ornament Joel ever bought me when he realised he had to love my love of Christmas otherwise our marriage would most likely survive all of NOT VERY LONG. I remember who gave us each ornament and where we got the others from and why and it makes me happy to remember. I stayed up late December eve after everyone else had gone to bed, unwrapping every single one, laying them all out on the table for the kids to wake up and find the next morning, signalling the 1st of December, the time we could finally decorate the tree.

img_6155

And though life is far from a story book or a perfectly constructed Instagram feed, that doesn’t mean we can’t mine for the very best parts of it and breathe them in. I breathe in deep in December, because the good is so apparent – good I’ve worked so hard to earn, good I know only exists because of the hard and the mess and the sweat and the tears but also because of the ridiculous privilege I’ve been born with.

When God said, “Let there be light”, I think he meant twinkly lights.

Stockpiling our Christmas memories, so far:

December eve. New pjs for Joel and the kids, ready to be unwrapped before they go to bed.

img_5992

img_5993

Ella’s kindergarten Christmas concert at the Town Hall.

img_6051

My friend and I sat there clutching our throats, glancing at each other periodically, rasping “It’s too much”. I think the kindergarten was trying to kill us.

img_6054

img_6062

img_6066

img_6079

img_6019

Christmas beds. Be still my beating heart.

img_6002

img_6086

img_6087

And little Christmas slippers that will not ever be taken off.

img_6085

img_6211

The start of our advent.

img_6094

And decorating the tree.

img_6098

img_6101

img_6112

img_6129

img_6108

img_6147

Their ornaments of the year.

img_6148

img_6149

And the return of Hiccup, our cheeky elf — by far, one of Ella’s main reasons to wake in the morning.

img_6229

img_6220

img_6224

We unveiled the opening of our local Christmas village.

img_6164

img_6170

img_6175

And at night we cosy up under fairy lights and watch Christmas movies.

img_6197

img_6190

And like Meister Eckhar said, “If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.”

Dear god, thank you for this mess. Thank you for this good. And thank you, thank you for these children.

img_6046

Merry December, friends.

 

3 Responses to “December”

    • The Red Tent

      Ha, the kids sang a song “Santa wear your shorts” — because Australia is so hot at Christmas, Santa has to wear shorts here instead of long pants.

      Reply
  1. finkelstein

    My hat’s off to you! Renovating a house AND doing the lovely December rituals AND making brilliant photos of it! My favorite is the one with the slippers in bed 😍. Thank you for sharing the Christmas vibe. All I seem to be able to is rant about our renovation with bad iPhone pictures to go with it.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Basic HTML is allowed. Your email address will not be published.

Subscribe to this comment feed via RSS

%d bloggers like this: