Deck the halls

You know how when you have this perfect scene in your head about how you want your day to go and then it goes just not the way you plan? That's pretty much what I face every time I try to capture a moment. I'm not spontaneous, go with the flow, roll with the punches. I need to know what is going on when and plan accordingly. I need to set expectations and have them met or I get a little twitchy. I'm not proud of this, although it made a mean project and product manager in my past life. With children, this does not fly. I think Rick began easing me into the reality of the here and now way before children. We are both the sign of the Leo, have our birthdays one day after the other, but are complete polar opposites when dealing with a planned event. I must show up on time, he must eventually show up. I must know where, what, why and when, and he is happy to get in the car and start driving. I'd like to say we've both adapted slightly to each other's personality, but that's not really the case. It's more like we've mostly accepted that it's the way it is. But when my camera comes out, the opposing forces rear their ugly head. If my camera comes out during a special occasion, watch out. He'd like to live in the moment and I'd like to capture the moment. Oh I see how silly it sounds writing this out; I sound a little nuts. So Friday we had decided would be a good day to pick out the tree and decorate. Last year I was preoccupied with Ava in the NICU, and while we did everything the same, my heart wasn't fully in it. This year, I wanted to make it big. Big mistake right there. Expectations set super high. Wouldn't you know that on the day we set to pick our tree would be mid 70 degrees, and my long sleeved shirts designed for the girls to wear would be almost sweltering? But they wore them anyway. The visit to the lot was so short actually, that I think we beat last year's record. The very first tree we saw happened to be perfect. Deal done, Rick wanted to book it home. I wanted to capture the moment.

While he ran off with the tree tag to pay, I attempted to take some pictures of the girls at the lot, in blinding sunlight, not the perfect setting for taking pictures. I found some shade, but still not ideal.

When we got home, we realized the tree was way too tall for the space assigned, so off went about 1 foot of beautiful tree, which made the rest look a little trim and lean. But roll with it I did. And then came time for decorations. Wouldn't you know I am highly allergic to our tree this year? Sneezing, wheezing kind of allergic reaction during decorating. The allergens must have traveled to the vents, because I have an attack now every time the heater comes on. After the hot spell, it became quite cold. The heater is on most of the day now. My nose is chapped. So while decorating the tree, I have made it tradition to drink hot chocolate. I really wanted a picture of Sophia drinking the hot chocolate after the tree was trimmed. I told Sophia we could try to make a white chocolate peppermint and she was so excited. I handed her the mug and told her to sit next to the tree. I ran out of the room to get my camera and during the few seconds I was out, she had put the cup down to get better purchase of her makeshift seat. Wouldn't you know it upset the cup of hot chocolate, ensuing a full blown temper tantrum.

Of course I made her a new cup because I had only made enough for one round. If I were better at making lemons into lemonade, or turning half empty glasses into half full during all of those little things that go wrong, I would probably have less gray hair and lower blood pressure. But the amazing thing that happens after a few days go by? I laugh at those things. And then years later? I look back at the one picture that actually captured the moment I wanted it to be, and I get all warm and happy. I even look at the bad pictures and they don't look all that bad--cute really. So maybe it's not immediate gratification, but I know I will have those memories forever. Even though it may be shaving years off my life in the process.