Every year, I stop and stare (longingly) at the the beautiful, pre-lit, artificial Christmas trees at Costco.
Every year, I tell Sean we should think about getting one.
Every year, he tells me I am nuts. (I married a true-blue Christmas lover).
Every year, we bundle up the weekend after Thanksgiving and, rain or shine, go on a hunt at our favorite Christmas tree farm for ... the perfect tree.
Every year, someone whines and cries, falls in the mud or complains they are cold the entire time.
Every year, Sean or I (often both, usually me) drop an F-bomb (or ten) at some point during the process of getting, chopping, moving, placing, or decorating the tree.
Every year, at least one strand of lights doesn't work on the tree and we end up at target once, twice (or in 2013) THREE times trying to get the damn lights for the damn tree.
Every year, we laugh.
Every year, we hold hands on the way to the Christmas tree farm and Sean says how great Christmas is. I smile and nod... knowing what is headed our direction.
Every year, we go with friends and family... some of us with Bailey's in our coffee and babies on our backs.
Every year I take a ton of pictures that I love to look back on.
Every year, the kids get a little bigger.
Every year, we do, in fact, find the perfect tree.
Every year, memories are made. Special memories.
Every year, it's worth it.