Do you have any New Year resolutions? I don't have any this year (apart from the usual eating healthy, exercising, getting up early, going to bed early, stop biting my finger nails, stop biting my toe nails, start wearing real clothes every day, becoming quite perfect in general, getting my doctorate degree, changing the world, learning how to cook well, learning how to bake better, opening a cafe, opening a restaurant, too, and a Bed & Breakfast in an old mansion that we'll acquire magically somehow, and writing the break-out novel, and a children's book, too.) No, I thought, this year, for a change, all I want to do is to love my family and friends, which I already do, so hey, this will be easy.
The kids always assume we go "there" (there being the blue-yellow furniture giant that shall remain nameless) for them. But it's really for all of us. (Haha, good ploy.) I love that picture of J. (This is him trying very hard to keep a straight face for the camera. Unsuccessfully. That man rarely keeps a straight face, which is why I love him).
I feel like I owe you an explanation. I said a dramatic goodbye two months ago, and now I act like nothing has ever happened (I am pretty good at that, the acting like nothing's ever happened). Truth is, I felt exhausted. I haven't slept properly in what feels like ages. I simply didn't have the time then, and I didn't feel very inspired, to blog.
It's better now because J is on vacation, and he takes care of the kids in the morning, so I can sleep in a bit. He also takes care of them throughout most of the day, and cooks, and cleans, and is generally being a very good housewifey (don't tell him I called him that in public), so I can rest. I feel like a human, not just a worn-down robot, again (look, I even carry my camera places!). I think I have time to blog again (on some days more, ergo today, and on some days less). I won't have much time to read blogs, however, so forgive me if I don't come visit as often.
Okay, enough with the blah-blah: I'll blog when I have time, and won't feel bad when I don't.
Apart from Fe, we were all knocked out with the flu and are just now slowly recovering. So, this Christmas hasn't been all that I thought I wanted it to be. In my head, I had had it all planned out: a Middle Eastern dinner, and a program including the acting out of the Nativity with hand-sewn costumes (no, that didn't happen, nor will it ever, let's be honest), the singing of carols in both German and Finnish, and the decking of the halls with self-made garlands and ornaments. Games, perhaps, and lots of laughter, certainly. Instead, it's been diarrheac (I made that word up, I believe) diapers, headaches, a lot of phlegm (sorry), fever, antibiotics, sleepless nights, etc. Fe was the only one dancing and prancing like a red-nosed reindeer fairy (bless her heart).
And still, there was peace and joy to be had.
Just like that first Christmas, which may not have been perfect; which saw dusty roads, discomfort, sacrifice, exertion, labor, sweat, and blood. And then amidst it all a small baby. A bright new star in the dark sky, to give us light.
Isn't it fascinating that the glorious story of Christmas is really the quiet story of motherhood.
We took a walk today to buy a Christmas tree, in - 30 Celsius degrees, all four of us ill. It was well worth the sacrifice. It's the most beautiful tree I've seen in all my life (with a very crooked top), and it smells wonderful. Oh, Tannenbaum. Whoever came up with that song, I get him. (Although our tree still needs some color. Tomorrow.)