There are eighteen days left until Christmas.
I have this personal policy that I won't wish away my life, but lately I have been really looking forward to Christmas.
You might think that it's because I love the joy that Christmas brings. That I look forward to eating, drinking, and being merry with friends. Because even though I can't enjoy them myself, I still love baking batch after batch of Christmas cookies. That I can't wait to bring home the things T makes on Ornament Day and hang them on the Christmas tree. Because I get to spend time with my brother, who lives across the country and hasn't been back East since last Christmas. Or that I look forward to showing off the new kitchen and family room while enjoying the company of my extended family. That, more than anything else, I so look forward to seeing the excitement on the boys' faces when they see what Santa brought them.
Well, I do. But that's not why I'm looking forward to Christmas this year. Oh, no. No, no no no no no.
I'm looking forward to Christmas because after all of the hype, the class parties, chocolates from their Advent calendars, the never ending Christmas lists, and the cookies and milk left out for Santa, IT WILL FINALLY BE CHRISTMAS.
Look, I love my kids. And I love Christmas (but not as much as I love my kids). But my kids awaiting Christmas will try the patience of the most sainted of adults. That is why I look forward to the Big Day. Because all of the antsy-ness of waiting will be OVER. And then when they drive me crazy, I can blame it on something else, like the weather.