It’s been a non-stop play date here since Friday morning, and I’m so unbelievably tired right now. I stayed up too late reading and then the kids took turns waking me up every couple of hours. They alternated, with each one taking only one turn (except for Sam, who volunteered not only do it once on his own, but to piggy back onto everyone else, so that once I’d get a girl back to sleep, I’d then have to get him to sleep again). They all appear well rested and content, meanwhile, I’ve been up for about two hours and am still struggling to open my eyes all the way.

Much, much going on – too much for my little brain to handle this early, and while I’m going to attempt to blog about them all, it’ll probably be all disjointed and incoherent.

Marc was a phenominal husband and father Friday and Saturday. Really – can’t rave enough about it. He was up, he was focused, he was involved, it was so lovely. He did the dishes, he cooked, he cleaned the bathroom, all on his own and with no prompting. FABULOUS. Then on Sunday – it all fell apart – and it was so sad and frustrating, especially after two days of such highlights. He sat and watched football or played on the computer while the hordes of children ran wild in my house and yelled and screamed and stomped. It was terrible – and I’m still mad at him because of it. I’m a firm believer that when we’re both here, we both work. At least with the childcare. I’ll do the vast majority of housework and cooking, it’s my job now – but being cast as Cinderella and the massive evil stepmother just pisses me off… I have to be that much more of a bad guy because he’s chilling and enjoying himself. Makes me crazy…

The vendor fair on Saturday went great – it was LOVELY to step outside of the Mommy role and be a fully functional adult, in charge and responsible. I really, really enjoyed it. I am so very happy with my life right now, being the stay at home mommy, and wouldn’t change it for the world, but it’s very nice to remember that there was a time when I had a whole other life that was complete and whole without kids. I wouldn’t ever want to live there again, but it’s nice to visit every once and a while…

And now… onto the biggest dilemma in my little world… Christmas. I miss it. A lot. And I feel tremendously guilty about not having a tree this year… I do feel as though I’m depriving my kids of an incredible experience for no real reason. Like they deserve to have this tradition, I deserve to be able to give it to my children and I’m not doing it… for no reason that makes any sense at all to me. It doesn’t conflict with converting to Judaism for me at all. I can see where people who have grown up Jewish would think there was a conflict, but for me, it seems like a punishment for a crime that I committed by being born not Jewish, and it’s just so unfair and WRONG. I’m trying hard, but the closer I get to Christmas, the more I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing, and that if this is the price I have to pay, to deny myself and my children of my favorite time of the year, then perhaps that price is too high.

I think my children are as much mine as Marc’s. And that to ignore my traditions is monumentally unfair to me and to them. And I think it’s entirely possible that you’re going to find a very small, very tasteful tree in my living room before too long.

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