I’m in the minority in our town for putting up lights. Just last week, I was driving in the dark evening of 4:00 and noticed all the lights, Santas (you know, the big blow up lit up kind) and even a few trees.
I REFUSE to decorate until at least after Thanksgiving Day.
But, ahem, I did just download Christmas music to my ipod. Yeah. Who can pass up some Olivia Newton John at a time like this?
This year the girls are gone for the full four days and J and I drove with the masses up North (can we say “traffic”?) to see his family.
I was the only person out of the 12 that were at his sister’s house for Thanksgiving dinner, who was not groaning about how full they were. I had one modest plate. I had two glasses of wine. I ate one extra roll. Three hours later, I had a piece of lemon meringue pie and my own cranberry steamed pudding (ahem, with brown butter sauce).
This is where I write in what I am thankful for. In essence, I am thankful for the life we are living. I give endless thanks for the ability to see that things work out how they are meant to be, even if they are hard…I think often about how last year at this time, J had just left to play piano out of the country for seven months.
I remember how fucking hard it was.
Without that, I possibly wouldn’t be so appreciative and thrilled that he is lying here next to me napping in the middle of the afternoon, snoring like a train.
The blessings in our family sit steadfast.
I was thinking just now, about last Monday, how after school, the girls and I ended up eating breakfast in my bed for dinner and watching “Little Women”. We finished it off with pudding, during which, I threatened to never allow eating in bed again if it ended up on my white 1000 count sheets.
Let’s just say they went at it like superstars and the sheets stayed clean.
I’m glad for moments like those, especially when I can look back on weekends like these that I spend without my kids. I know they are well cared for by their dad, but I feel like they always belong here with me, and maybe the reason is because they came directly out of me…or maybe because I am just so used to them needing me, I am not so sure what the hell to do with myself when I stop long enough to think about what’s missing.
Regardless, it was a great few days, J and I spent some time on a lake up north in an inn that was to die for.
This is where we stayed for three nights.
We had time with his family, but most of our time was spent alone, together, by the fire, overlooking the lake.
There was endless tea and coffee, episodes of “Glee” on the laptops, a bar downstairs for hot toddy’s, Thai food down the street, a hot tub, a feather bed that makes you want to never get out of bed and rain coming down reminding you that you really don’t have to go anywhere you don’t want to, for three whole days.
I’d say in bed first thing in the morning (due to the feather bed thing) with coffee while J stretched out on the deck in his boxers.
And we basically did not much but relax and work on our laptops in order to get ready for the next stage of our piano bar planning.
Which I will update you with once it happens. (2-8 weeks…yeah, I know, the waiting is killing us)
On the last night, I wanted a bath. The drain had stopped plugging up, so the tub wouldn’t fill.
I’d given up and was getting ready for a shower when J came out out of the bathroom to tell me my bath was filling up…
He’d “McGuyvered” (a verb in our household) the plug for me.
Even better, it actually worked.