Like some of you, I’m still recovering from Thanksgiving. I’ve still got leftovers in the fridge and a few decorations needing to be put away.
I’m usually quite on top of these things by now. I usually have my Christmas tree up, the stockings hung, the decor set. Usually.
For that last five years or more, it’s been tradition that on Thursday we eat at Mom’s house; and on Friday she comes to our house to help decorate. Then we relax with some cheese and sausage and whatever new Christmas DVD I’ve purchased. On Saturday, we get in some much needed R&R, and by Sunday our routine is fairly back to normal.
While I try not to be a control freak, I am admittedly an admirer of stability and scheduling. So when one of my brothers decided to surprise us by driving down from his new home for Thanksgiving weekend, he and the rest of the family who knew in advance were slightly concerned with my reaction.
Well, I am here to say, first and foremost, that I’m here. So there’s that! I must admit, it was really fun for me to say, “Schedule scmedule” and just hang out with the family. We ate, played cards, ate, watched some football, ate, chatted a lot, ate, went out on Black Friday… oh, and I think we ate a little.
I kept up with the important things: daily blogging, writing, cleaning the house, things like that.
But I really enjoyed noticing that I was okay with the impromptu activities. Actually, to be honest, I was more than okay. It was fun. Completely spontaneous, and even more so. Because once we were out and about, we just kept going. It was just really fun.
Even after my brother left this morning, I embraced the whole spontaneity thing and we did something never done before: we watched this year’s Christmas DVD before putting the Tree up. How wild am I?
We still haven’t put the Tree up; we’ll prob’ly do that tomorrow. But if we don’t, I’m okay with it. Really okay with it. Because that’s not what matters. Keeping a schedule isn’t always what matters.
It’s the memories of all the surprises of this weekend. It’s the togetherness we don’t often have. The making plans for next year (which, by the way, is not the same as making a schedule… who knew?!).
If my Tree doesn’t go up for another week, I’m okay with it. Because I know what happened in its place.
And whether my brother coming home for Thanksgiving becomes a new tradition or not, at least for this year, he did.
That’s worth more than my Schedule Shmedule. Don’t you think?
