I love receiving Christmas cards.
However, Joe ADORES receiving Christmas cards, and there’s an unwritten law in our house that he is the ONLY one to open Christmas cards.
At all.
Period.
Each Christmas season, we wait for the mail to come, ripping open the letters to catch up up with long lost friends and relatives through their picture cards and sweet letters, chronicling sports team success, musical prowess, and overall awesomeness. We used to send out a letter, and Joe’s really good at crafting it, but this year, just a picture will be in our envelopes, and as I was stuffing them last night, I almost had to laugh.
Our picture is not us.
Well, it is us…just not us most of the time.
In the picture, we’re relaxed.
We’re on a beach.
We’re sunkissed from the San Diego sun.
I’m wearing white pants that don’t have any spills or dust or dirt on them.
Our Christmas card picture was taken this summer as we were on vacation, and who wouldn’t want to highlight the fact that we went on a really nice vacation?
I feel like a phony, however. This is just part of our year’s story. We don’t have it in us to write a letter this year, and would rather remember this time of sun and smiling.
But, even though that’s only part of our story of the year, isn’t that what a Christmas card is all about? Shouldn’t I want to show how I rocked white pants and a tan? Shouldn’t we want to share that we were at one time, sunkissed? While we all want to be real with each other, no one wants to air out dirty laundry in a holiday greeting, right?
However, after recording another podcast with Holly and DeAnna (listen here) and discussing how we like to only share our highlight reels, and then reading the blog post, Killing Off Supermom, I had to take a step back. My card is too nice. We’re all smiling so sweetly. We’re not even in the right state, let alone state of normalcy that accompanies our family.
Am I part of the problem? Am I only sharing my highlight reel as I stuff envelope after envelope with our beachy vacation picture…which, by the way is lovely, but it’s not really where we spend day after day.
See?