Oh my goodness, I am so over Christmas. Am I allowed to say that? It’s what part of me didn’t convert to Christmas Change. It’s making me weary, actually sick and tired, dark half moons resting under each eye like life has socked me hard. We got so sick before Christmas that my mother-in-law had to come get the boys. They had been fending for themselves. Thank goodness for mother-in-laws.

For a year, I had looked forward to my Christmas morning in the rock house, cozy warm in, snowing out, the fleeced bottoms thumping each stair on the way down, the dim living room, the Christmas tree lights, the bicycles in a little row, and then the pure exclamations: “Best Christmas Ever!” I still buy into Christmas Unchanged. Oh me. I’ll work on it this year, my expectations, the return.

Instead of my beautiful, vain imaginations, we travelled to Seth’s parents and took their gifts there. It was a nice time. My sister-in-law cooked like a pro. I ate like a pro.

We’re back to the house now. I’m scheming – as you probably are – about when to undo the decor, which drawers to organize first. I’ve made some long lists. My brain is sorting before the get-up-and-go. I feel old.

Oh, and I look so old right now, and all I can think about is the tattoo I want on my back. I imagine my little shoulder in a tank top, a peony peeking out the side, and then WAM! I imagine myself, age 70, sun-spotted, dragging down, my sad flowers all drooping their heads. 

Resolutions #1-5: I will let myself get older this year. I will not freak out about it. I will get another tattoo anyway. I will stop imagining about myself, and I will enjoy whatever food hits my plate.

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Coming Soon: more of the Love Story. I think.