Confession, Christmas is a struggle for me.

I always thought Christmas would be the best time in the world, especially when I had children. The anticipation, the excitement, the cookies baking, the joy of the season.... I thought that stuff would be a given. But most times Christmas leaves me dreading this time of year.

I am claustrophobic. Not something I tell everyone but I don't like small, cramped spaces. What does this have to do with my dread of Christmas? The six of us live in a very small house. Very. Small. My children are the only grandchildren on my husband's (G) side of the family. Only. Grandchildren. Most of G's family lives within 5 miles of our tiny house. This is a recipe for, what in my mind is, a disaster....

Gifts everywhere!

Every year I pull the reins on the number of gifts and every year I am disregarded. So in expectation of what is to come I make the children go through their stuff and get rid of what they absolutely don't want. They understand and do this as best they can. Not wanting to be the mean parent I also go through my things as well. Every year I also ask the family to allow G and I to be able get the coolest stuff for our children, and every year we are "outdone", in size and expense. Buying our children those once in a lifetime gifts that every parent looks forward to buying their child. I am so thankful that we have such a giving family but the madness needs to stop!

Then there are is the bric-a-brac. For what ever reason it is thought that I like stuff. Useless stuff that serves no other purpose but to be decorative. The more of this stuff we have the smaller and smaller my space becomes!

I want to be cheerful. Really I do, but every now and then I need to go outside and just breathe. Outside, away from the clutter of things.