Watching the wifely whirlwind this time of year always imbues a certain sense of awe. The cards, the cookies, the school parties, the calendars… Gift planning and dispersal. Meal prep. Recording the Christmas specials on TV. Thematic coordination of wrapping paper.
Mostly with a smile. Mostly with chin up and a sense of yuletide determination. The late nights, the sleep deprivation, striving towards the 25th, when the kids tear through the wrapping paper and we feast mid-winters and yes, she can once again sleep an entire night.
Like final exams for moms. And, just like finals, she’s better at it than I am. The execution requiring more patience, better planning, and stubborn stamina. Sometimes I would ace a final, but more often than not I found myself feeling ill-prepared and wondering how much it would hurt my grade. Not so with the better half.
Sure, I can hang the lights outside, carry in the tree, provide the occasional assist. But Christmastime is the mom’s time to shine. So raise your glasses. Help with the clean-up. Let her sleep in and maybe indulge that extra glass of wine on New Year’s Eve. She’s earned it.