On the Lost Day of Christmas, My True Love Gave to Me: Sleep

Sometime after midnight Mass, I woke up feeling strange. Sometime after 8 am, when the alarm went off, I woke up feeling stranger, and it wasn't because the kids were standing beside the bed begging to know when we were all going downstairs. Sometime before the 11:00 Mass for which I was the cantor, I started to feel achy, and breakfast was most definitely unappealing.

When one must sing, one must sing, though, so I went to church in my pajamas and sang the Mass from the choir loft (and thank God for the choir loft, I say, and for ailments that don't involve my throat). By that time, I'd started to shake, so I went home, and went to bed, and didn't wake up for five hours, and only then to sit at the table for about half an hour and push some potatoes around my plate.

While I was collapsed, Darwin supervised the gift opening, and made Christmas dinner and the cake for the newly-minted birthday boy. The last time I spent all Christmas in bed was two years ago on the occasion of the fellow's birth, and in the blessings-counted category I must say that I didn't feel as bad this holiday as I did on that one. But on this day, as that, Darwin did all the things that needed doing and let me rest as much as I needed. I received no better gift this Christmas.

I'm dragging myself around today, feeling slightly off balance but with 75% less full body ache. I don't know what it was, and I hope it goes away, and I'm sorry to have missed Christmas with the family, but I'm glad to have the opportunity to know how much my family loves me.

And for your delectation, a gratuitous shot of Mr. Two-Year-Old himself, in his Christmas/birthday finery. Look, I may be biased, but this fellow is the most delightful boy in the whole world, so sweet and funny and chatty and full of it. He is simply the Best. And he wishes all of you a Merry Christmas.