Ah, Christmas Eve Eve. How I love thee.
I have always loved this day. It's such anticipation, such joy. The last-minute details, the making of memories and, this year, an ugly Christmas sweater party with good friends and family!
I made one last mad (kid-free!) dash around town this afternoon: nine stops in about three and a half hours. The OB says all is well, I'll "be miserable until it's over." But I'm OK. This baby is active and seemingly everywhere. Don't ask me how, but somehow he makes me feel like I can't breathe and that I'm going to pee my pants in the same second. But yesterday morning, around 5:30 a.m., as Colby made his siren wail for a sippy cup of milk and I looked over to see Dave had gone to work already and I was, indeed, the runner, I had a moment. A moment where I imagined not only Colby wailing, but maybe this babe too. And it hit me: soon my life will be ruled by the sleeplessness, the milk needs, the guttural truth of it all! (I have since decided we are getting a dorm fridge for my bedroom. If any of you have one laying around, please get in touch with me!)
Alas, I'm off topic. Basically, what I want to say is this: Christmas, I am ready for you. Come for me.... Second, I have a new skeleton key so that the Roberts can get back to a proper birthday party tradition for Baby Jesus tomorrow night! And third, I know of several families mourning the loss of loved ones. To all of you, may God bless you. May He hold you in the palm of His hand.
I am going into the magic now. I hope to see you, and your ugly sweaters, in the mist.
May you be blessed, may you hear Santa upon your rooftop and may you believe in the magic that is Christmas. Now quit reading this, get off the Internet and make some memories! Andddd...... GO!
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