In a Blue Moon

I had an existential crisis on Christmas Eve. I lost my purpose and it scared me so much. It was my husband's birthday, the baby turned 3 months old, the older 2 were sick, and we were supposed to leave the next day on an 8 hour car trip.

I cried, I thought thoughts that I really shouldn't think. It was just no good.

The excitement I usually feel on Christmas Eve was not there at all and it was completely depressing. "Santa" was not happy to give her gifts. The cookie baking lead to fits, the bike for Winston was a complete failure, and all the day's events were leading to the worst Christmas of my adult life.

But then the big boys wouldn't sleep and I started to get nervous about the presents I needed to arrange in secret. The nervousness led to much cherished excitement and I got everything done about the time it changed from Eve to Day on Christmas.

The Day was pretty good. I may write about the gifts that were really successful, but mostly I just want to remember the boys playing all day long, the relaxed "it's Christmas" feelings, and being able to pull together a stellar Christmas Dinner when I thought we weren't having anything but leftovers and candy.

We left on the 26th in a surreal mood. The trip was going to be long, and yet we really didn't care. We were in the van, we were traveling, and it was going to be ok.

Being with all of my Father's family usually makes me want to scream and hide, but this time I relished it. I loved every person I saw, savored every bite of my Grandmother's food, and was even better to my boys that I ever am at home.

After some time with my family we went to NM to see The Mr.'s Dad and his wife. We were snowed in and the feeling was indescribable. We were stuck, if only for a few hours, together. My boys, big and little, and me, in a kitchenette hotel room. The window in the little kitchen faced north, and when Winston woke up he ran to the window with his Papa and said, "Mommy, look! It's snowing!!"

The boys played in the snow, sat at the table to do newly gifted art projects, and swam in the hotel's indoor pool.

We went to visit Grandfather and Lamb (husband's father's wife's maiden name, and the name I'll use here when writing about her) the second day of our trip, after naptime. The Mr.'s father was so grateful that we'd come, even if our only visiting was done in the hospital waiting room. He told me my husband's nickname as a baby as I watched Lamb tear up. We didn't know if he was ever going to make it out of the hospital.

The morning before we left, we took the boys to see them one last time. The Mr. and I were both anxious. It could have been the last time he ever saw his father alive. My husband pulled out the fancy new shirt our boys had chosen for him for Christmas to wear that day and I knew he was feeling a loss even if it hadn't happened yet.

The last thing his Dad said to me was that he hoped he'd make it out of the hospital.

Lamb called yesterday evening when we were just a couple of hours from home.

Today, my FIL is going home. Home to his house, with his Lamb. They asked if he wanted to stay through the weekend, and he chose to leave early. I am so happy that he made it out of the hospital, and so proud that my little ones visiting may have helped him to get there.

Tonight, there will be a Blue Moon in the sky. I want to go home too. I want to find my home inside my own insides, and curl up in my bed there.

Today I have listened to music, read a chapter in a real book, and tried to give myself some room to breathe. My purpose, rather it remains the same, is slightly revised, or radically different, is in there somewhere. I don't want to feel any loss that doesn't yet need to happen.

I can let myself go home once in a blue moon.