We have a real Christmas tree. By real I mean that for the first year since we left our San Diego home and the subsequent exit of my husband from our family life, I have had a Charlie Brown tree in my Paris apartment.
Before Paris we always erected a giant tree picked out by a group effort and decorated it as if it was going to be in a magazine shoot - at least that was the goal.
Those decorations sit in a storage unit in San Diego. Paris has only known 2 footer's with some glitter thrown on.
A psychologist could probably do an easy analysis of what this all means and so could you so I won't go into it.
But this year is different. We bought a proud tree - probably over 6 feet and it has lights that twinkle and real decorations courtesy of My Frenchman.
It makes me happy - and it makes me cry too - for the family life I lost and for the family we are becoming.
At dinner with some of MFM's friends the other day I mentioned that I had four daughters and he corrected me - 5, he said - you have five daughters...........and 1 son.
Whoa.
6 kids around that tree.
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