Page 113 of The Lookback

But not this year.

My beautiful baby caught some kind of cold on Christmas Eve, and he did not sleep well, which means I didn’t sleep well. So when I finally got him down for a much-needed nap on Christmas Day, instead of marshaling the troops and cleaning up like I always do, I slept.

And so today, on the day after Christmas, while my hands itch to finally put decorations away, when my husband returns home weary from yet another long night shift, I kiss his forehead, and I start to ready the kids for another wedding.

“It hasn’t even been a month since Aunt Helen’s wedding,” Gabe grumbles. “I hate wearing suits. They’re so itchy.”

“I think I figured that one out,” I say. “I cut the tag out—ripped it out, in fact, and then I stitched the shirt back up.”

“Really?” his eyes light up. “You ripped a hole in it, and then you stitched it back up? So now it’s like a zombie shirt?”

“Sure,” I say. “Let’s hope the zombie shirt can behave itself today.”

He’s smiling as he jogs to his room.

I’m halfway through applying my makeup when Nate starts to cry.

“I got it.” Izzy breezes in, her short blonde bob as perfect as ever, but a little fluffier than usual.

“You actually blow-dried it for once,” I say.

She shrugs. “Miracles do sometimes happen.” She winks on her way out, already bouncing Nate up and down, his squeals following her out. I’ve never met a kid who likes babies more than she does.

“Not too much bouncing,” I call after her. “The last thing we need is to have him up-chuck the carrots he had for breakfast all over the place.”

“I’ll stop before I get him dressed,” she calls back.

There aren’t many things in this world I can rely upon as universal truths, but Whitney and Izzy squabbling is one of them, and Izzy taking care of a baby with competence and a smile is the other. Apparently it’s just when kids hit ten or eleven that she starts to get annoyed by every single thing they do or say.

It feels like a miracle, but Steve emerges from his nap without being woken up, all blinky and slow-moving, right as I finish marshaling all the troops. Ethan and Beth have arrived, both in their own cars, but dressed in corny coordinated outfits that never fail to make me smile. Moments later, Steve ducks into the shower, and I make him a steaming cup of instant coffee.

It’s ready just as he comes out, suit on, but tie hanging loose around his neck. “Is everyone ready?”

Whitney salutes. “Horses fed sir, chickens have full water and food, and the dishes are. . .” She glances sideways at Gabe.

“Done,” Gabe whispers. “Even the stupid silverware.”

Our puppy yips as we lock her into her crate, but she always stops once we reach the door. “Who has the gift?”

It almost killed me, taking a break from Helen’s baby quilt to make Mandy’s quilt in the week right before Christmas, but I managed to finish it just in time, if finishing at three a.m. counts as being ‘in time.’

“She’s going to love it,” Steve says. “Trust me.”

I know Helen will get Mandy something lavish and ridiculous. Amanda will know just what she’s been wanting. And Donna will stress to the point of misery and get her something weird.

It’s just what we do.

But my role is to make something special and heartfelt, and it’s starting to feel like a contact sport, with all these weddings and babies piling up one right after another. “The seams aren’t great,” I say, “but it’s done.”

“She’ll understand.” Steve sips on his coffee and then blows on it again.

“Or she won’t even be able to see that they’re crooked,” Izzy says.

Whitney jabs her right on cue.

“What?” Izzy says. “She’s ancient. Everyone knows old people can barely see.”

Steve’s laughing. “How long until we’re ancient?” He rotates his right shoulder slowly. “Because my shoulder feels like an antique already.”

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