Traditionally the longest night of the year is the December 21st but in our family it’s the 23rd.
Last year I was up with Abigail nearly all night, watching Lady and the Tramp and Monsters, Inc. and The Wiggles as she threw up and cried. Last night I was up till 2:30am with Elliott as he whined and cried every time he swallowed. Now I’m sitting on the couch, in front of a nice warming (fake) fire, watching Oswald as my back tightens and ripples, wishing I could be back in bed. Hopefully tonight will not be the same.
I just want sleep. Uninterrupted, long, deep sleep — it feels like it’s been weeks. Gotta get a gag gift for Sonya today. Hope something’s open. And we’re making cookies, gingerbread houses, drinking some wine, eating food and food and food and just surviving the day till we’re neck deep in wrapping paper tomorrow morning.
The thrill is gone. I actually can sleep Christmas Eve. I don’t want to wake up early and evaporate presents. I don’t care about what I got, but more about what I give.
Still is a wondrous day.