It is no great revelation that I do not love surprises. An unexpected gift off my birthday wish list? Well that’s swell, but a flip-flop in plans or a hey-let’s-get-groceries-on-thursday-not-tuesday and you have quickly entered WOAH, STEP BACK territory. I’m working on it…but in the meantime I find myself craving routine these days more than ever.
Nine months ago it seemed like we had all the time in the world. I won’t even begin to describe the multitude of lists I created of “things that could theoretically be accomplished while staying home with a baby”. I mean, I was staying home, for nine months. Insert volcanic laughter here.
In January, routine as we know it will again alter drastically, and I’m just not ready for it. For it I am not ready.
So I do what normal people do, I tuck away money bits at a time, planning an elaborate honeymoonwedidnthave/awesomefirstfamilychristmas/sweettrainride/frenchsweepstakesgetaway. (That’s normal, right?)
Only to discover that those vacation days work promised us don’t actually exist, and we only get Christmas Eve because it falls on a Monday (Greg’s day off). Oh, you can have boxing day though! Queue sad whistle.
So while I momentarily wallow in my erased christmas extravaganza, I visit a friend. A friend who just had brain surgery.
Dear plans I wasn’t expecting, I see your deviation and raise you.
Perspective is a crazy thing. (Plus, believing there’s a higher power arranging all this earthly stuff can be really, really comforting right about now.)
So here’s me, focusing on what I can count on this Christmas; Charlie Brown soundtracks, lots n’ lots of holiday lights, daily holiday gaming hour, homemade cinnamon buns, and a whole lotta kisses on this little face.
I mean c’monnnn