It was Christmas Eve, a day for spending quality time together and then, I sneaked away for just one little hour to drink my coffee and catch up on the news, i.e., Facebook.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for breakfast with friends overlooking the Biscayne Bay and then, Amos had a fit, cried and threw his orange juice as I played every show he has ever liked on my phone and ordered a Bloody Mary.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for the beach and collecting moon jellies and then, my big three accidentally got wrapped up in a man of war and were all stung and thus, horrified when ordered to pee on themselves.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for baths and dressing nicely for church and then, we ran out of time, got in the pool instead and I let everyone wear pretty much whatever they wanted.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for good behavior and then, I told someone to shut up and Amos ate five candy canes in church and when the sugar kicked in, I threw him in the nursery.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for Christmas pajamas and then, I remembered I had forgotten them and felt relieved there was no pressure to take a picture.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for family dinner and then, I served four people spaghetti, fried shrimp, mac and cheese, and garlic bread and afterwards, the children piled in my bed to watch a Christmas Carol until Amos pitched a fit and they watched Little Einstein’s.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for getting in bed early and then, it actually happened and I remembered that no one left Santa any cookies and I was too relieved to fetch them to begin that process.

It was Christmas Eve, a day for being reminded that life is real and wonderful, though our best intentions never seem to be enough and then, I remembered it’s the showing up that counts.

It was Christmas Eve.