The Noodle Angels

“My mother wants to make us Christmas stockings,” my husband told me, that first autumn of our marriage. “For your birthday.”

I bristled. I had plans for our Christmas stockings. I wanted big flannel ones with snowmen and maybe blanket stitching. I had seen them in Target. They were cute. It felt intrusive to me to have my mother-in-law determine the Christmas stockings that we would hang up, if not forever, at least for a few years.

“I don’t want her to make stockings!” I said. “I have plans for our stockings!” I did not know what kind of stocking she would like. I shuddered at the idea of spending every Christmas resenting the fact that I had to hang up stockings that I hated just because she made them.

My husband is a very calm person. “It’s no big deal,” he said. “It will be fine. I will tell her that you’ve got other plans for the stockings.”rel='bookmark'>The Stories of Christmas

  • Reproaching ourselves at Christmas time
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