Is it terrible that I truly relish the occasional weekend to myself?
Matthew is at the ranch with his Daddy for a couple days, and here I find myself: already in my PJs at 7:30 on a Friday night - sipping peppermint hot chocolate with marshmallows and debating whether I should have the Lucky Charms or the Frosted Mini Wheats for my dinner. And after dinner, should I read more blogs or just light some candles and soak in my tub 'til my fingers and toes are shriveled? Should I go to bed early or stay up long past midnight - just because I can?
I lived alone for a full year before Matthew and I were married - we weren't even in the same state during that year. Living with someone besides yourself is an adjustment. Sometimes you have to put the other's needs or desires before your own, just because it's the right thing to do. Sometimes you go to bed when they do, even if you're not tired. Sometimes you force yourself to cook dinner, even when you'd be totally fine with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and the thought of cooking a meal kind of makes you want to stab someone.
You make small sacrifices for each other, because it's no longer all about you.
But this weekend, beside me in bed will lie my sweet, furry babies ... just like old times. I probably won't eat one thing that isn't severely processed and doesn't come out of a box. I'll watch mindless hours of HGTV and read countless blogs, and then I'll dance around my house to some old school Christmas tunes (see this post) and wrap piles upon piles of presents (oh, and? I kinda sorta - OK, DEFINITELY have a wrapping paper fetish. So the wrapping presents thing is, like, my favorite EVER!).
It's good to have companionship, it's good to spend time with friends and family, and it's good to step outside your tiny world when you can. But it's also good to spend some time alone with yourself, and if you're uncomfortable doing that, it's good to keep doing it until you find out why.
Wishing you a wonderful weekend-before-Christmas!
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