I celebrate Christmas with my kids the weekend before the actual Christmas. We’ve always had to do it this way, because they go to Pennsylvania on the standard Christmas day. Before I was divorced, I went too. Now that I am divorced, their dad goes there with them. He seems to enjoy the hubub of traveling, while I love the decadence of being able to spend Christmas day completely relaxed at home.
A lot of people look at a divorced family and feel kind of sad for the separations it creates. But these separations can also be looked at as variations. And variety is the spice of life. It helps us segment our busy time and our relaxing time, and it’s actually quite a luxury. Plus, the kids end up with double Christmas. Quadruple, really. I don’t know many kids who would be sad about that.
So, tomorrow morning, my girl will be enjoying her new iPod, my son, his Skylanders, and I will cook waffles and bacon (and hopefully nap), and feel cozy and grateful in my small apartment. Merry Christmas, which is something I don’t tend to say a lot. This happiness thing is turning me soft.