I cut my finger, all the way through my nail, almost to the bone, with scissors.
I did this, of course, just after giving giving the preschoolers a lesson on cutting with scissors.
I wanted them to practice doing it safely, so you know, I made a lesson out of myself.
I was wrapping presents, and trying to do it quickly the other night when I was so tired. The kids all got new socks and new underwear, and I wrapped everything separately so that it will look exciting all week. The pillow factory donated new pillows, for the third year in a row, which is amazing, and so also I made new pillowcases for everyone. We also have a tradition of exchanging homemade gifts on Christmas Eve, so we have gathered supplies for that and the kids have drawn names and we will work on that this weekend. The kids also always get new pajamas on Christmas Eve, and I found a sale of buy-one-get-one-free where pajamas were half off. That’s a win, even if I lost a finger getting them under the tree.
I am fully functional, however, even well enough to wash all of our supper dishes by hand since our dishwasher broke down yesterday. Sigh. My finger is very sore, but the pain just distracts me from the pain in my back and pelvic bone and hip. That’s helpful, right?
It didn’t stop me from practicing cello tonight. I love, love, love kissing my babies good night and then going to practice cello. I am sure they could have better lullabies, but I have learned a lot this year and playing them to sleep is still one of my favorite times of day. It’s a routine that keeps bedtime positive and peaceful: dinner together, scripture reading (Anber and Barrett read their first words from the scriptures tonight!), hugs and cuddles and prayers, tucking in, stories, more kisses, more tucking in, songs, more kisses, and the cello.
Oh, that cello. It heals me straight through to my bones, I know it. It soothes my frazzled spirits, like David playing his harp.
When I started playing last year, I picked out all Christmas carol songs to practice in the beginning, and besides the lesson and technique books, that’s all I practiced all year, having it as my goal to be able to play them by now. I am grateful, and think that was genius, because it is has been lovely these late resting nights. The cello may be one of my most favorite coping skills of all time, and I love that the songs most familiar to my fingers are the musical memories of Christmas.
Nathan and I are going to take the children, my cello, and his violin, and go play for my grandfather next week if the baby is still well enough. It will be lovely, I think, and perfect since the only thing I can play confidently with a good sound at all are the Christmas songs. Besides, Nathan will play the fancy stuff and make us sound pretty. I am terrified, but it feels good and right and private and sacred somehow, and I think my grandad would like it… and worst case, if I chicken out, Nathan could still play anyway!