Dearest Matt,

"Why are you working so hard?" you asked me the other night.

I didn't have an answer for that other than the obvious: I'm behind on laundry, dishes and dusting.
A mother's work is never done.

You lay a gentle hand on my shoulder and tell me I've done a good job, I've done enough. Now it's time to go take a hot shower and put on my jammies.

I don't like leaving chores unfinished. But you insist. And I'm exhausted anyway.

"I want you to enjoy our children," you said to me later that night. You've brought me a small plate of food--a fried egg, half a bagel. Breakfast for dinner since I was too busy to eat. "You can't enjoy life when you're doing too many things."

It was the gentlest of admonitions. You'd seen me rushing around, barking commands earlier that day. You tell me that sometimes loves says no. Love says no to extra trips, parties, activities so that love can say yes to more time at home, more time interacting, raising, enjoying our children.

Only a few things are needful, you remind me. Time is hurtling by and our children are growing up fast. There will always be time to do all that other stuff. But time with my children--I won't get that back.

This Christmas I'm going to be here, be now, be present with you, our children, our extended family, our dear friends.

I'm going to enjoy myself. I owe that to you. Thank you, beloved.

I love you.

Always,

E.