I started this post on the 26th, but I never got to go back and finish it…so… I will now. Enjoy :) 

Another Christmas is over. For me, it just seems anticlimactic. We have all this build-up for a month and then - poof - in one morning it’s all over with.

Christmas Eve, the baby boy spent the evening with his dad and family to open gifts. I stayed home, drank a glass of wine, and put together toys. The nice thing was, I didn’t have to cook dinner. I watched the 1977 version of The Nutcracker with Mikhail Baryshnikov (when I was younger and dancing en pointe, I always wanted to be Clara). The man was an incredible dancer with such power. It was so cool to watch it again. It made me really want to go do the ballet.

When the baby got home, he went right to sleep. I fell asleep on the couch but woke up about 11 and put out the Santa stuff. Broke the stocking holder so I have to glue it back together today. Went to bed.

Woke up early - like 4 - and found a little boy in my bed. I had about 2 inches of mattress and little feet in my kidneys. I had no idea he had crawled in next to me. I guess I was that tired and dead to the world.

Christmas morning was good. He opened presents and played with all his cool new toys. Then we packed up and headed to Mom’s for the rest of the day. More presents. He got Battleship and he played a couple of games. He managed to beat is older cousin two games in a row.

We got home late - nearly 11 - and he was sacked out in the backseat. Got him in bed, then I crawled into mine and promptly passed out.

Tuesday went at a slow pace and it was nice. Ran a couple of errands on the morning and then we played all afternoon. I got him this really cool Mega Bloks Pyrates fort and lighthouse and we played with that and then a couple of board games.

Took him home and by the time I got back home, I fought the emotional breakdown I knew was coming. Eventually I gave in. It sucked. I hated every second of it but there was not much I could do about it.

The evening was quiet. Too quiet. There was no little boy noice in the background. Or cartoons on the TV. Or a little voice hollering, “Mom, this broke off again.”

I can’t even begin to explain the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach dropping him off that night. Or the sharp stabbing pain in my chest. I :censored: hate it. I hate it. And so I force myself to focus on the positive. I had him for six straight days. We had a lovely time together and did lots of fun things. He had a great Christmas and that’s all that really matters.

Now it’s back to work time. I hope I have the strength to make it.