I wrote before about how the holidays around here are a mix of emotions. Will wants to be happy and have fun, but he is busy worrying about expectations. He is a 60-year-old in a 10-year-old's body worrying about retirement. This Christmas, we also have shared a cold within our house so yesterday was a bit lower key. Everyone was a bit under the weather and feeling run down. Will lamented last night the illness. He cried about it not being the BEST Christmas because we were sick. I reminded him of the good things that were yesterday. And always. And that sickness knows no time of year. He was ok after that, but still sad that we hadn't been able to celebrate to the fullest. This is how holidays are, though. Will is overwhelmed with decorations, music, people, expectations, and more. Then, he has the thought that the holiday must be the best experience ever so when it doesn't live up to his made up expectations, he is distraught. Not because HE didn't love it, but because others might not have. His heart is huge and he is concerned with how others feel about all things. Rather than ending my Christmas curled up on the couch with my husband, I spent in bed after diffusing a situation with Will. I was in bed from mental and phsyical exhaustion. I too was sick. Moms don't get sick. Especially on Christmas. I did all the mom things, but the illness compounded the existential crisis for me. It took much more from me to address Will than I would have liked. I had a shorter fuse with everyone that I would have liked. We didn't play outside like I wanted to. I didn't take the dog on a run. Life was just harder.