One. More. Day.

If you are reading this on Christmas Eve, I will have worked 23 of the last 25 days.  I gave up every one of my days off and volunteered my last Sunday to the office, making an eleven day work stretch for myself. The two days I did have off I spent hauling and selling Christmas trees for the Boy Scouts 9 hours and 6 hours, respectively.  And while the money is certainly welcome (hello beautiful new roof and trim) I am tired.

And no matter how I prepared the kids for my incessant work schedule, the look of horror on Youngest's face last Sunday morning when he saw me leaving for work and realized he was yet again having cereal for dinner was shameful.

Quite simply, something had to give.  That something was laundry... cooking dinner... paying bills... my sanity...

So here I sit, on the eve of Christmas Eve realizing that yet again another entire month of my life has passed by.  This year has had so many changes, heart break, and twists that I can not remember it all.  Of course, if I had made more time to write it all down that wouldn't have been an issue, but that's a conversation for next year. This year, when the urge to write has hit me either Youngest has been doing his homework on my computer or I have fallen asleep where I sat. Next year I might have a dedicated computer of my own that I can tote around with me for when the mood hits.  Or not.

Our family is changing.  With the passing of my mother in law, the dynamic between my husband and his brother has blindsided him and he's having trouble navigating a path. He is struggling and all I can do is watch.  Years ago, when his father died I had given his mother a mahogany letter box to write to him when she was feeling sad, frustrated, happy, whatever.  She tucked it away as she always did with anything she liked... it was too nice to use... and we found it a few days after she died... in the drawers with all the important papers.  It was the only thing I wanted.... and now I write to her.  I mail it off into the box, in the hopes that she will read it and be able to somehow change hearts, or at least know that there's another side.  Or maybe it's nothing more than a way for me to make peace with some of it, to find solace in something I can not understand or change.

Christmas Eve is her birthday.  Tony has asked to celebrate without us where they lay her ashes. So while the rest of his family gets together to celebrate and remembers her, he will be left to himself to remember the mother he had and to mourn the loss of what is essentially his entire family.  We bought gifts for the nieces and nephews and were told not to bother with them.  We have tried to send congratulatory cards for babies on the way and were left with no response. At some point, we will stop trying, because at the end of the day, people only do what works for them. And this... whatever this is... isn't working. But he's not there yet.

We have had many good things happen here as well.  The roof finally went on, my new headboard for the bed is finally finished, the sun tube is getting installed in the bathroom, the boys are doing well in school, and Bonus Son is finally (maybe) going to get his license.  My side of the family is doing well, trips are being planned, and the chaos of life is being managed accordingly. And work, as I've already mentioned, is a'plenty.

But there's a marked difference this year, similar to when I lost my grandmother and I started this blog. It's a time of change, a redefinition maybe, of our life, or family as we know it. A time to reconnect with myself, to pull some people closer and let go of others.

A time to start writing it all down again.

See you in January Pen Pals....