I knew what I was doing when I signed on for a long-distance relationship. I knew there would be days it wouldn't be so bad (like when we snuggle up and he dutifully watches Christmas movies, not because he loves them, but because he loves me). I knew there would be days it would be hard (like when he went to his holiday party and I got to hear about the food and see him all dashing, dapper and handsome, but didn't get to hold his hand as he walked in). What I failed to fully appreciate was how fahking ridiculously hard some things would be. I stare blankly at the tree and wonder what it would look like if we had some of his little boy's ornaments on it. I imagine the two of us under a blanket, giggling over cocoa after the kids have gone to bed. I imagine the joy on his face as he gets to see my boys open the gifts from him or me open whatever insanely thoughtful thing he's gotten me this year. And, I'm not going to lie, I cry. Sometimes I cry a lot. The years that I have the boys, I cry less because I don't want them to be confused. Stomp's old enough to understand that this thing is hard. Joshie Mark is not.
So anyway, this year the boys head off to their dad's for Christmas and I head off to...nowhere. It just didn't work out for me to travel this year and I'll be home alone for everything. Oh, I have some plans. My dad's on the wagon again and that makes him pretty delightful company. And because I'm