Growing up we always thought my mum was an elf. Or at least was once an interior designer in the North Pole. The outside of the house wasn’t always lit up like the Griswold’s, we’d have the typical candle lights in the window, maybe a wreath on the door - that was the extent of the exterior decorating. But my mum would always tell people she spends most of the first week of December decorating the inside. Pictures really don’t do it justice, its hard to capture every single little Christmas/winter decoration she has wedged, hanged, clipped, nailed, or placed.  

She always says after the end of every year shes going to stop decorating so much, “You guys are getting too old for this” she tells us while she packs up her collection of Santa Clauses. Yet every December she continues, and we love it. Granted my brother and I really only get to bask in the winter wonderland the week of Christmas, but it still just makes the holiday for us. Seeing my mum’s over the top decorations, its like Santa’s workshop threw up all over the inside of our house. Its fantastic. You are always consumed by Christmas cheer and nothing is ever redecorated the same way. Its always different, but the amount stays the same.

I’m hoping my mum never quits her holiday addiction. I know it tires her out and frustrates her, especially since we have an entire room dedicated to her constant need for Christmas decorations and seasonal throw blankets. She always reminds me that I was the cause to her addiction, the heroine to the crack head you could say. When I was young I had this fascination with wanting to live inside a sno-globe. I figured Christmas was the only time you were allowed to live inside one so my mom made the inside of our house look like one. My imagination sparked the tradition, a tradition that she has kept alive for a very long time. Which i’m incredibly thankful for.