Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Wow. Are you tired? I'm tired.

Christmas will do that to you, I guess. I could now regale you with a minute by minute replay of our day, and a breakdown of every gift we got and gave. Complete with pictures of feasting, revelry, and aforementioned gifts. But this is not that kind of blog. So I will only tell you about one. Alas, there is a story first. Did you really think I would break my newly instituted short blog rule just for Christmas? Here is the story:

Once upon a time I got pregnant. This was a happy thing, but, unfortunately, it caused my once delicate fingers to swell to immense proportions. As a result, I was forced to remove my beloved wedding ring and confine it to a box for the duration. Fast forward to a few months after our little mischief maker joined our ranks. I had lost some weight, and hoped my fingers had too. I retrieved my ring and despite the fact that it was still a bit tight, was determined to resume wearing it, lest any single men felt tempted to flirt with an overweight woman with a newborn.

Then one day, I realized that I was once again not wearing my ring. And I couldn't remember when I took it off. I felt sure I must have put it somewhere for safekeeping until it fit better. A frantic search of the obvious places yielded nothing. I thought I must have taken it off and put it in a pocket, a purse, or a bag. I wondered if I put it on a counter or sink and forgot to put it back on. But after many days of thorough searching in every box and cranny, there was still nothing. If you have ever lost your wedding ring, you will probably understand that there was a lot of tears. And guilt. And a lot of other not so pleasant feelings and sadness and what have you. It became a painful subject, naturally.

Two more moves followed my months of searching, and each time I looked through every box and drawer as we packed and unpacked. It was pretty clear that whatever safe spot I had chosen to hide my ring was a very secure location, in which the ring would remain until the Millennium. So I resigned myself to feeling stupid.

But.

My lovely husband knew I felt stupid. And sad. And guilty. And that I really wanted something to wear on my finger to show I did love him, even if I'm bad at keeping track of jewelry. So the blessed man got me a new ring for Christmas. A beautiful ring. Much less expensive than the first, which is practical, but let me tell you, just as priceless, if not more so. Because this ring is not just a symbol of our eternal commitment to be together, but our eternal commitment to overlook flaws like losing very important things and being supportive and giving your spouse another chance to do things right. Basically, a symbol of our imperfect selves trying to do better together. And reminding me it's the person who took the time to pick out a ring for you, not the ring itself. So I'm feeling pretty happy at the moment. And pretty unapologetic that this post is kind of sappy and not so sarcastic. Because sometimes you don't feel sarcastic, you feel happy. And sappy.