Christmas in the Country: The First Year

That sounds like a Little House on the Prairie book title, doesn't it?  

Our first Christmas in the boondocks has been anything but festive and fun.  It started one week ago (Monday, December 18th to be precise) at bedtime when our oldest whined that her stomach hurt.  She ended up sleeping in bed with us and in the middle of the night it started: Holiday Barf-a-Thon 2017.

I'll spare you the details but this is what the rest of the week looked like:

Monday: Daughter #1 upchucks

Wednesday: Daughter #2 hurls

Friday: Daughter #3 barfs (and barfs and barfs and barfs, Jesus make it stop)

Sunday (Christmas Eve): Daddy joins in the festivities

So, here we are.  Tuesday.  Today should be my day if we stick to the schedule.  At the time of this writing, I feel fine.  I've been washing my hands something fierce and keeping my distance from the infirm whenever possible.  That's not to say it won't sneak up on me.  It seems to pounce, sudden but violent, and then be on its way.  

I spent a couple of days this weekend being very not-filled-with-the-spirit-of-Christmas until I remembered that if the Lord has given me any word for 2017, it is "perspective."  We may have missed most of the fun family dinners and memory-making this holiday, but beyond the gifts and the gathering together, it was a refreshing turn of events to lay around Christmas Day and just be.  No schedule, no agenda, no timeline. It was just what the doctor ordered.

These three were finally on the mend while daddy stayed home sick

A Christmas tree at night-one of my favorite sights!

Merry Christmas from the country!