An Early Christmas

I have to share my kids. It is not the best or most fun way to live, but it is the reality of no longer being married to my kids' father. This year is his turn to have the kids on Christmas. A reality that...well...sucks. I told the kids that they were getting to spend Thanksgiving at home this year because they were going to be with Daddy for Christmas quite a while ago.
Last weekend the reality of them not being here on Christmas day hit me and made me start thinking of ways to still make the season special as well as trying to figure out when we were going to be able to celebrate Christmas (working in the service industry means that I have to work Christmas Eve). After talking it over with my husband, we agreed that December 23rd would work best. It is a Sunday meaning neither of us has to work, and we will be going to church and being filled with Christmas messages (a great way to remind the kids what Christmas is really about).
I explained this to the kids a few nights ago and suggested that Eric write a letter to Santa to request that he make one exception this year and stop by 2 nights early. My poor sweet Eric had tear welling up in his eyes. He was fine with writing the letter and even left room for his brother and sister to sign. As I looked it over and told him what a great job he did, he started crying. I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he didn't want to go anywhere for Christmas. He just wanted to be home. This melted my heart. I looked into my sweet 10-year-old's face and told him that could understand that, but his daddy loves him too and it is his turn. I don't know if it really made him feel any better. It is moments like that thought that I just want to say, "Then you can stay home if that is what you want." I can't. I have to share. Being a grown-up is hard sometimes.