On the first Sunday of Advent this year, Danny and I lit the first Advent candle at church. Two days before, the day after Thanksgiving, we kicked off the Christmas carols and put up our tree, our nativity scene, our mantle decor. A few days after that, we went and got some fresh evergreen boughs and I arranged them with poinsettias, dusty miller, and a big red bow on the little white wrought iron tea cart that we have by the front entryway, welcoming people into our home.

I love Christmas. I love the happiness of it, the meaning of it all, the traditions of church and family and friends. I love the parties we’ll be attending and hosting in the next couple of weeks, the foods we break out only at this time of year, the colors and the closeness and the coziness. Yes, we have two little Georges-Pierre ornaments, and a couple awesome Our First Christmas ornaments. I wish real champagne were filled with glitter.As a child, I had so many favorite Christmas traditions with my family, from the hot cocoa in front of the tree as we read our Advent calendar each night to hanging our stockings on Christmas Eve to the annual Christmas morning breakfast of egg and sausage casserole and hot curried fruit. Also, the tradition of my mother putting my own gifts in nondescript boxes and letting me wrap them myself, since I absolutely loved wrapping Christmas presents!

As an adult without any kids yet, it sometimes feels like we have fewer traditions. Because, let’s face it, Georges-Pierre can’t exactly roll up his sleeves and bake cookies with me. But we do have traditions. We have the Christmas music we sing along to, way too loudly — check out the Jars of Clay Holiday, Hillsong Holiday, and BarlowGirl Holiday Pandora stations to hear some of our favorites. We have the extra flurry of mail with all the Christmas cards we send and receive, and of course, the always-hilarious photo shoot we do for our Christmas card. (It’s interesting trying to get a dog to understand that the point of a photo shoot isn’t for him to use his people as a jungle gym.) And, of course, who could forget that we have the tradition of Danny’s parents’ Christmas tree . . . which conveniently doesn’t get put up until we arrive in Virginia to drag the 12-foot tree up from the basement.

Whatever your Christmas traditions, I hope you are enjoying them this year!

~ Laura