Right about this time last year, after getting everyone else ready for Christmas Eve Mass, I put my five day old baby on the couch to change him one more time before we left. The little dear let loose as soon as I took off his diaper, all over my skirt and his outfit! Of course, being the perfectly rational, newly postpartum mom, I burst into tears. I stormed outside and announced that the family (all waiting in the van) should just go without me. After all, it was a miracle I found one presentable thing to put on my no longer pregnant body. What on earth could I change into?!
Everyone came back in the house. Court somehow talked me down from the ledge (trust me, if there had been a ledge available…!). I managed to change the baby and myself. Thinking back, I don't even know what I wore. We all trudged back out to the van and made it to Mass in plenty of time.
This year presents it's own Christmas Eve challenges, from kids who won't clean to the one year old who is either nursing or attached to my leg. And I don't know what I am going to wear. So I need to remind myself that a year from now, it won't matter what I wore, or if the girls couldn't find their tights or if the teenager wore jeans because his good pants are at a friends house. What will matter is that we were together to celebrate this most glorious day!