The 2023 holiday season was lovely and full of time with all our people.
With Christmas landing on a Monday, the festivities naturally stretched into a long weekend. My family—Mom, Marty, Erin, Levi, and Ari—came up Friday afternoon for an early celebration. We had beef tenderloin, played games, and the kids discovered the hilarity of a fart machine (a newfound treasure).
Christmas Eve fell on a Sunday, so we started the day at church. Afterward, we celebrated with the Hights and had our traditional Christmas Eve dinner at Grammy and Grandpapa’s.
The boys’ big gifts were Apple Watches, and Hazel got a karaoke machine and a Furby. Santa also redeemed himself by delivering the reindeer stuffie Hazel asked for last year. I made the bold decision to skip the homemade cinnamon rolls this year—and no one noticed. So that’s one time-consuming tradition I’m officially retiring. With no oversized toys to assemble, Ty and I were in bed before 11 p.m. on Christmas Eve—a first for the Rallo family.
Christmas morning was cozy and joyful at home in our matching pajamas. That evening, we hosted Christmas dinner for the Leitz/Rallos/Kellers crew.
Chris and Kari stayed the night, and the next day we packed up in a flurry reminiscent of the Home Alone airport scene, heading off to the Cove shortly after lunchtime. Our time there was packed with fun: Wonka at the historic Ruby Theatre, a home screening of Barbie in the kids’ self-made “theater,” cosmic bowling, night skiing, and lots of cousin bonding.
We returned Friday, and I worked Saturday and Sunday—two tough shifts. I got home just before 9 p.m. on New Year’s Eve, and the kids decided they wanted to stay up until midnight. We rented the new Trolls movie, and everyone made it! At 12:01, we popped confetti and by 12:15, everyone was in bed.
By the end of it all, I was completely wiped. Working two long shifts and staying up until midnight sent me over the edge. In past years, we’ve welcomed the New Year at 9 p.m., which is much more reasonable when your alarm goes off at 4:50 a.m. Historically, starting a new year in the CICU has felt inspiring—but this time, I just felt drained.
And then there’s the cleanup. Wrapping paper, the avalanche of new things, dishes, bedding, meals—it’s a lot. I genuinely embrace the mess of a beautiful life, but it took significant energy to orchestrate it all. It took two full weeks before I felt like myself again.
Still, I wouldn’t trade any of it. I’m incredibly grateful for the big tribe we get to celebrate with and the chaotic, sacred, mess-filled memories we made together.
