The truth is

The truth is I had something already typed to post to mark the beginning of December. Something about reflecting on the year behind and looking forward to the year ahead. The truth is this post was supposed to go up yesterday (being 1st December and all). It was going to be cute and it was going to be inspiring and it was going to set a plan for the rest of the month.

decor

But the truth is I have been in bed with the flu since Friday. The kind of flu where you have to call your husband home from work at 9am because you literally don’t have the energy to … well to do anything. The kind of flu where you sleep for two and a half days solidly before you even start to think about getting bored. The kind of flu where PJ’s are the only possible clothing option, and going to the kitchen to get a glass of water requires multiple stops to catch your breath along the way.

I have been the absolute opposite of inspiring and/or reflective the past few days and it seemed somewhat of a fallacy to post something I wrote a few days before, when that is no longer my reality.

This December has not started off reflectively. It has started in a fog. A fog where the girls are so lovely in looking after mum, but oh my gosh so loud – their sweet voices (even when playing) can pierce sore ears and an aching head. A fog where the most thrilling conversation I have with Mr is “could I have more water, medication, or another blanket please?”.

I had high hopes for this December, I had an advent activity calendar planned (we got that up only because I had put in the preparation beforehand). I had imagined greeting the month with anticipation and excitement, sharing in the girls wonder and delight. Instead I have been grumpy mum, just constantly telling them to please shush.

No this December has not begun as I had hoped, but still the girls loved the ‘countdown calendar’ (as they call it) on the wall. We lit an advent candle yesterday, we read a book in front of the Christmas tree, we are snatching little moments in the midst of the fog. And maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s not about our plans, but what we do with our reality this Christmas. Maybe the snatched little moments in the fog are actually closer to the real meaning of what this season is all about.

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