Waiting for Wendy: "All I Want for Christmas is You"

For the past six weeks, so many people have said to me, "This Christmas is going to be AMAZING!" "This Christmas is going to be soooooo special." It's true... I have imagined Wendy's first Christmas at home for so many years: her eyes sparkling with delight at the beautiful tree with stacks of presents... her enthusiasm while making our famous family fudge... her joy at discovering a stocking with her name on it filled with treats and toys. On the flip side, my gut also kept saying, "Don't overwhelm her. This is all new. Keep it simple."

On December 21, we all hit a wall. All four of us. We were overworked, overtired, grumpy, Grinchy. The first sign was the fudge. In my haste to get it made, I accidentally added 1 pound of butter instead of 1 cup. Yuck! The next sign was when Bill couldn't find the Christmas presents he hid. Then, Wendy took a really long nap and woke up lethargic. When my normally eager eater declined all food, I took her temperature, and yep, she had a low-grade fever. Then, Maddie came to me and said her throat hurt. And yep, she was running a fever too. It just went downhill from there... upper respiratory junk and stomach flu that lasted several days. Rather than enjoying Christmas cookies and cinnamon coffee cake, our girls were taking Children's Advil and Pedialyte. Rather than running toward her stack of presents, Wendy crumpled into a pool of tears on the floor. It was not exactly the Christmas I had imagined, but it was a reminder to SLOW DOWN. We canceled all of our plans and just focused on getting better. It was the Cosmos' way of reminding me to keep everything in perspective.

A year ago, our baby girl was thousands of miles away while her stocking hung empty on our fireplace. A year ago, all we had were a couple of sweet photos and boundless hope that our baby girl would come home soon. A year ago, nearly every Christmas song was a painful reminder that another year had passed and Wendy was still so far away. Perspective is an amazing gift.

So even though the girls didn't feel like their perky selves, it is still the best Christmas ever because we are all together. Bill continues to search for the gifts. I remade the fudge, and I adjusted my expectations. I firmly believe Christmas is a season, not a day, so we will continue celebrating when they feel better, just as we celebrate and cherish every day they are with us. Thank you, Cosmos, for reminding me of what is truly important.

These cute aprons are compliments of Umma. After the butter debacle, maybe I should focus on the fudge recipe instead of taking so many photos. Then again, maybe not.