If you’ve read my blog before, you’ll know that Husband has some sleep issues which mean that often, he is awake while the rest of the household is asleep. We’re both avid users of StumbleUpon, which means that I often wake up with a dozen emails from him, little things that he’s read that he thinks I’ll find interesting. And I love it, it’s one of my favourite things as I know that he’s been thinking of me, plus it gives us lots to talk about and debate upon. He’ll send me things which are so random, so totally me that it gives me a warm feeling to think that he really gets me, you know?

Until yesterday.

I woke up to a bunch of Stumbles, one of which was a suggestion for the Christmas tree we should buy this year. He’d sent me a link to a page from the B&Q website, where they were selling a *urgh* fibre-optic tree. I mean, really? Who wants a Christmas tree with no fairy lights, and light literally shooting out of the ends of the branches?! And then he explained, very reasonably and rationally that a fibre-optic tree is a far more sensible option as it means we don’t have to have wires tangled around the tree, it’ll save time, we don’t have to have the saga of finding out which dead bulb is causing the whole chain to die, it’ll be easier to store, not to mention the fact that Sausage has a fibre optic lamp, which she is absolutely obsessed with, ergo she’ll probably adore a giant fibre-optic tree!

And you know what? He’s totally right, it’s the best option all round. But why is it that I still feel sad that we won’t have the same awkward, difficult to put together, mess of a tree that we do every year? I think it stems from when I was younger and staying with my grandparents. I think I’ve mentioned my maternal grandparents before, whom I love dearly, but who don’t like each other very much. Well, when I was a kid, I’d remember them arguing, every bloody year, my Nan asking my Grandad when he was going to get the Christmas decorations out of the loft, and my Grandad moaning and saying he’d get round to it. Every year, without fail, this would start in early December and usually go on up to Christmas Eve, when the nagging would get too much and my Grandad would get off of his arse and get the decorations.

They’d let me put the decorations up, assembling their minute and ancient artificial tree (seriously, it’s like 2 ft tall and they’ve had it my whole life) and hanging the baubles, some of which were older than my Mum. And once it was all done, this peace, this sense of calm would finally descend on the whole house, my Nan glad that she’d got her way and my Grandad content that the nagging would let up, for at least a while (I’m not making my Nan out to be a bad guy here, she really does have to poke my Grandad with a stick, just to get him to move). It was like the spirit of Christmas had done its work, and we could start to feel festive.

I think the process of putting the tree together, stringing the lights around it, adorning it with tinsel has become a reminder of that time, and I suppose I go through it, waiting for the feeling at the end. But my Husband has made me realise, I don’t need this to put me in the Christmas spirit. I have an amazing Daughter who, this year, will be looking at the tree with the light shooting out of its branches and her face, and the thought of how happy it will make her, is all the Christmas spirit I could ever wish for.

So here’s to change, a step away from the negative and towards a Merrier Christmas.