Is it really December?

I feel a little worse for wear, I must admit. Perhaps it isn’t the best time to be writing…but then again, is there ever really a ‘best’ time?

After pulling a 12 hour shift I stumbled off the bus tonight to a quiet street and the tap, tap, tap of my faithful shoes against the sidewalk. My feet hurt and my eyelids felt heavy. I looked down at the cracks in the cement and smiled as I avoided stepping on them, thinking of my kids and the little games we would play…

‘Don’t step on the crack or you’ll fall and break your back.’ I would say.

‘No mummy, that’s terrible…’ she would reply. ‘It’s, don’t step on the crack or an elephant will fall on your head…’

‘How is that less terrible?!’

‘I don’t know, but it’s funnier!’

My children have an interesting sense of humour. One of my personal favourites:

‘Mummy, why did the chicken cross the playground?’

‘I don’t know baby, why?’

‘To get to the other slide!’

Cue laughter. Actually that one is pretty hilarious.

I missed them. Especially after days like today when all I wanted to do was burst through the front door to their beautiful little faces and hugs that can’t be beat. But I knew they’d be asleep when I got home and I’d have to wait till morning for those magic hugs.

I thought about all this as I walked and my heart felt a little heavy. But then something caught my eye and I looked up to the neighbors front yard where hundreds of colourful, twinkling lights danced about in the trees and across the path. Yellows, reds and greens all floating about like little fairies and reminding me of my favourite time of year. Suddenly the heaviness lifted and I had to stop and stare for a while.

There’s something about Christmas…the childish joyfulness of the entire thing. The hope it brings, the memories of sticky hot Queensland summers where we’d run under the sprinkler and gorge on icy-poles in an effort to keep cool. The smell of gingerbread and fresh mangoes lingering as though they were just placed before me. The lying awake at night to see if Santa would come.The smiles and laughs of family as we gave gifts and sang songs and made wishes for the coming year.

I love everything about Christmas.

So I guess coming home to my soundly sleeping babes wasn’t as hard after that. I kissed them on the cheek and rubbed my nose against their soft cute little faces. I selfishly wished they would wake just so that I could say goodnight. But they were deep into dream-land and I decided I’d give them that. Tomorrow, they would wake a day older. That dream-land of rainbows and unicorns wouldn’t last forever, and eventually they would be too old to laugh at silly jokes, or make up silly rhymes. But at least we’d always have Christmas.