The Week After Christmas

It's become one of my favorite times of year - the week after Christmas. The craze of the holidays has died down, and it feels as though countless days remain before school begins again.

There's this luscious, lazy cadence to the hours. We do laundry and play with new toys, watch movies and listen to Christmas music. My car sits out front, cold and unused. Mister's backpack hasn't moved since he threw it in the corner on the last day of school. I live in yoga pants and hoodies, and I haven't rushed to do anything since Christmas Eve. It's divine.

It's also a recharge period. To kick back and relax. To think about the year ahead. To slough off the trappings of Christmas and find peace in the stillness and solitude of deep winter.

And so, tonight, I find myself with a baby who can't sleep. My littlest one has a runny nose and I don't think he's feeling his best. He needs me to rock him for a little while, and I am more than happy to oblige. I am more than happy to snuggle with him in the rocking chair, our bodies wrapped in a blanket, and the bite of frost at the window. This is exactly what the week after Christmas is all about, and I have loved every minute.

Mac, having finally fallen asleep.