So the holidays are finally here, and it's been one heck of a festive season for us so far.
In the past month Connor has had four doctor's appointments, three hospital trips, two illnesses and a partridge in a pear tree. He's mostly recovered from the strep throat, RSV (which he generously shared with Jeremy and me) and g-tube infection but has now developed a truly glorious case of conjunctivitis, making both eyes resemble candy canes in honor of the occasion. Also he's now running a fever, cause unknown. Again.
One of our cats has decided the ribbon on our Christmas presents under the tree is edible. The other one prefers the flavor of packaging tape. There's a four-foot wide section of our Christmas lights burned out smack dab in the middle of our roof line. At the rate I'm going, I'm hoping to get all my Christmas packages sent off before February of next year.
And Christmas cards? Forget it. Mailing Christmas cards is one of those gloriously unattainable things that normal people do because their kids aren't collecting diseases like Pokemon cards.
But you know what? Dang it, I'm determined that we're going to have a great Christmas anyway. We'll light a fire, pop our Christmas crackers, open our slightly-chewed on presents and just enjoy spending time together. It probably won't be the kind of picture-perfect Christmas that Bing Crosby sings about, but you know what? That's okay.
That's not really what the holiday is all about anyway.
You can find Jess daily at her blog, Connor's Song.