My First Time
This weekend I found out (1) my family listens when I say things I almost mean... and they remember and (2) I would be hosting Christmas this year. In my house. Christmas is usually hosted by one of the matriarchs of the family, a person with an abundance of serving dishes, silverware and Christmas decorations. It takes cabinets full of take-home Tupperware, wine glasses and napkin rings. I don't have themed dishes or a bread basket or more than three dishtowels (none of which match any other).
I've always wanted to host something like this because it's for both sides of our family. Eddie's family and my family will both feel like Christmas is on their turf, which works for everyone. It makes the most sense, really. BUT I do this thing to myself where I go and put on all kinds of pressure to make everything perfect except I don't even know what perfect is in this case, because we're trying to make something new. I've been spending this week worrying about what that is and how to achieve it.
We're excited because it's a chance to start traditions and embrace the holiday in a new way while giving others a chance to enjoy themselves without the worry of, "Is everyone ELSE happy? Does everyone ELSE have what they need?"
Eddie's just excited because it'll be impossible for me to make us late arriving (because it'll be here) and we'll be having roasted duck (at his request). He does not realize that hosting this holiday means that we'll have to start cleaning immediately. And we won't stop until the duck is done.