Probably my 78 gallon bathtub!  It’s absolutely my year-round safe haven. 

For the New Year celebration, we had some of the usual invites and we felt our usual anxiety which dwindles, inevitably, into the complete lack of drive to do anything at all.  However, I fought my comfy pajama pull; showered, dressed, and went across our street to the neighbor’s house, with our children.  My husband had already crossed, with our BYOB box and some snacks.

I was happy to be going to see our friends and was happier still that we were the crowd.  At 8:30pm, we were the “early ones”—which never happens!  We got to settle in and enjoy some chitchat as we started celebrating before the others arrived and it got too loud.  The children were provided (all too early) with their party favors which sounded throughout the hours for at least an hour and then again for nearly another at the more appropriate time.  I must admit that none of the noise bothered me too terribly; I had my well-blended pina colada and some nice tunes in the background.  I was fine.

All of this got me to thinking about our first New Year’s after we were married… there was a horrible storm in central Ohio and our duplex had power in exactly 1 room for 6 days—the kitchen.  We spent those days after our first married Christmas well bundled and very cuddly and fairly isolated. 

Newly weds and I was about 6-8 weeks pregnant… the cravings had kicked in.  All I had wanted in our entire frosty world was a virgin pina colada!  My darling husband braved the treacherous streets that had 24 inches of snow over ice one evening and came back 2.5 hours later (the store was normally 15 minutes away) with 2 gallons of colada mix, pineapple and a few other items, plugged in our blender and made me a very happy mommy-to-be!  

It felt so different to be amongst so much this year. Time has passed, my baby has been born, has a sister and they are in school.  Our jobs and family roles have changed.  We’ve moved since then too.  There was no snow this year for new year’s but there was still the tropical comfort of a colada in my hand and still the warmth and comfort of my husband’s arms around me as we rang in the new year.  This is going to be another colada year, as I hope they all are.

It must have been the exact pitch to my 5 year old daughter’s delight that made me giggle.  I have always been a big fan of the traditional holiday season; baking and humming and listening to the holiday crooner classics, crafting and gift wrapping have always been near and dear to me. 

I’ve seen and heard my small children giggle and shush each other on Christmas Eve so they could listen for reindeer and jingle bells on the roof (so quietly they’ve accidentally fallen asleep, of course)… but the other night, there was an additional sound—painful, if I’m going to be completely honest—that I just couldn’t have imagined or hoped or planned.  That deliciously and painfully loud and exceptionally high-pitch squeal coming from my daughter as she tore into her Christmas Eve pajamas could never have been expected or planned.  As she continued to squeal and giggle and clap and dance about the living room, excitedly showing us her new PJs and throwing herself upon us for anxious hugs and thank yous and I love yous for the next 5 or so minutes, my husband and i just kept giggling, smiling at one another and at Raya (and violently covering our ears), as though we had just returned to a much younger age ourselves. 

Meanwhile, Kieran just calmly opened his PJs and said “Oh, SWEEEEET, can I wear them now, Mommy?”

Ah, to be young… but we were for a few minutes, with a little help from my daughter and her pajamas.

I’ve been trying to decide what else to make for us this year and this definitely helps…