through the seven levels of the candy cane forest

I interrupt the week long blog vom of wedding pictures to link-up with some genius women and their genius link-up idea: You're Always a Kid on Christmas. I told you it was genius, but that's Helene for ya. She's the kind of person that asks you to jump and you do a switch leap over cliffs. Or she plans a link-up and you drop all posts and link it up, man. Just do it.

You're Always a Kid on Christmas. Yes, yes I am (let's ignore the fact that that sentence could probably read You're Always a Kid and be very accurate about me. Sorry I spend 90% of my time around children. Hashtag: teacher lyfe).

Christmas is magical.
Point blank. Period. The End.

Freddie made this for me. True love and also not creepy looking in the least. Wink with the crazy eye.

But really, who doesn't belt out Christmas music? There should be silence after this question. 

I had to think long and hard (insert obligatory that's what she said joke, moving on) about a good story from Christmas' past. What was blog worthy? Let's see. I was a fairly boring well behaved young lass and the only holiday related story I could come up with was about my sister. My sister being mad that my mother would not get her a cow for Christmas so she went to the mall and told Santa she wanted a cow and might as well have told my mother HA, CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT NOW, MC. THE BIG DUDE'S BRINGING THE COW. 

Long story short, the big dude did not bring a cow that year. Or any year since then.

A favorite Christmas memory for me is actually made up of lots of little memories. Little moments that make Christmas Christmas for me. Let's review.

Going to look at the big Grinch my neighbor's plaster on the side of their house every December.

This is followed by driving to visit the local 2-story Christmas tree and the waving Santa.

Wrapping present after present. And then wrapping up this cutie patootie.

Driving around at any crazy hour of the night just to find good Christmas lights.

And yet Disney Christmas lights always win. 

Speaking of Disney, visiting our favorite Christmas character performer.

My brother may or may not have been a reindeer in a former life. I can't say. 

Carefully hanging the ornaments. My family has about a billion and that's not an exaggeration, no matter what you may think. Each ornament has its own story and I love it. 

One, two, skip a few, ninety-nine, one billion. 

My parent's house (that feels so incredibly weird saying that, by the way. Hello, my almost 4 month old marriage) has ridiculously high ceilings so a 12 foot tree has been in the works since we moved. 

No picture will ever capture this beauty. Come visit sometime, ya hear? 

Getting the Christmas movies and playlists lined up every year. Home Alone, Home Alone 2, Elf, Santa Clause, Charlie Brown, Grinch, Rudolph, and...now Christmas Vacation. Thanks, Freddie, for expanding my horizons. 

Always a favorite. Let's jam out together, Bing.

Last, but certainly not least, every year since my brother was two or so we've gotten our picture made with Santa. It kind of really turned into a big family tradition that we decided would end when my younger sister turned 18. Which was last year. Cue the tears. No Santa visits this year. I am not 24. I am not 24. Shut up. But seriously, one of my favorite places in my parent's Christmas decked out house is the buffet where all 25 of those framed pictures sit.

Here are the past two years. Minus my broseph, Joseph. I know, you were wanting a sampling of the cute childhood Santa pictures, but this is all I have. And since we're always a kid at Christmas...

And also, SANTA!!! I know him!!


So where will you find me on Christmas?

I will be up at 6 am to see what Santa brings because yes, Santa still visits no matter how old you are and yes, getting up at 6 is a necessity. Don't the Santa gifts like disappear if you're not up by 6:30?! I will be wearing a Santa sweater with snowflake socks curled up with a Christmas blanket. I will be eating all the food off of my parent's Christmas china. I will be sitting in a pile of torn up wrapping paper and half way untied ribbons because please do not try to tell me you carefully unwrap your presents without a single rip or tear.

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animal.