There are all these moments that I have planned in my head. I know how it will be and I can't wait for it to go down exactly according to plan.
Everything was going well last night, we celebrated with my family doing all the wonderful traditions and were on our way home when the puking started.
An hour later we were headed for home again - while googling places that were still open at 11pm on Christmas Eve because we needed pedialyte for our sick little one.
In case you wondered, Walgreens is open until midnight on Christmas Eve, nowhere else is. Don't even try.
As a result of the late night, Tommy slept until well after 8. (Heavenly!) Which means that instead of Tommy being awake and anxiously waiting for his parents to get him out of bed, his parents were anxiously waiting for him to wake up so we could get this party started!
Instead of sharing a big beautiful breakfast, Tommy is sticking to the BRAT diet and we learned that he doesn't like toast.
Instead of him going crazy and tearing the wrapping paper off everything in sight, he was totally satisfied when he had a fist full of nuts from his stocking. He had no need to open anything else.
Instead of heading to Josh's mom's by 10am, we're still thinking about getting ready for the day at 11.
Instead of a quiet morning sitting by the glow of the Christmas tree in the dark, we turned on the party tunes, danced and opened all the blinds to let the morning sun in.
Instead of Tommy sporting his brand new Christmas jammies in all the morning photos, he's dressed in his cousin's skeleton jammies because they were dry and that's better than wet.
The last 12 hours have been far from what I expected or planned, but they've been every bit as beautiful as I imagined. Here's hoping the next 12 hours go just as well.
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