I had to order my Christmas cards quickly this year because I forgot to tell anyone our new address after we moved this summer. I think that shifts me from introvert to hermit, but I’m trying not to over-think it. I also didn’t want to miss out on anyone’s holiday cards this year because I adore Christmas and real mail and I’m ruining it for myself, which also says something about me that I don’t want to know.
So I put on my problem-solving hat, which is completely invisible and very sparkly, and found a WE MOVED CHRISTMAS card on the Internet. Next, I ordered my kids their Christmas-themed pajamas because one day I will need embarrassing photos for prom dates, and got my terrible photo-taking self ready to go.
And as usual, Christmas Card Day began with the annual exclamation-point-a-thon:
Stand by the Christmas tree!
That’s a lot of teeth!
Say I love Santa!
Maybe try I love Jesus!
Jesus didn’t help. Just try posing like ninjas.
But I didn’t have the time to be picky or take my usual 76 photographs because the card-making site literally had a timer counting down the minutes until I would lose speedy shipping and friends and possibly the right to bear future gold foil envelopes.
So I let my kids go be kids while I sifted through blurry Santa hats and the realization that our family room still doesn’t have enough lamps to keep anyone from having demon eyes. I finally decided to tell people the move went better than the Christmas photos and pick two with just under ten minutes to spare. I didn’t even include Scott and I in the photos this year as though only the children moved to a new home and built Santa’s workshop there leaving Scott and I to live in the tree house out back.
And when the shipping date came back as much later than I had anticipated and I was about to freak out from the knowledge that hundreds of holiday cards would go to the wrong home, I burst into tearful laughter because of these two series of photographs.
Background: By this point, my daughter kept insisting her only available pose was “holding the white poofy” or crying in the corner.
And then my son morphed into Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes and all my work as a parent and photographer was done.
Alleluia! These photos saved Christmas Card Day even if they didn’t make it into the actual card.