Feels like an Indian Christmas to me

I don't know if they celebrate Christmas in India. In fact, I'm pretty sure that Muslims and Hindus don't; after all, it is the Christians who celebrate Christmas. What I do know is that yesterday (the day my husband Eric returned home from his two-week stint in India) felt like Christmas to me.

It's hard to have him gone. I'm an independent woman, but I admit I get a little paranoid in the middle of the night when I hear noises and I'm in bed alone. Bianca and I eat a lot of mac and cheese and party pizzas; I don't actually cook. But I also don't get relieved from mom duties either--no girl's nights without having to hire a sitter when he's gone. It is hard on me, but it's all worth it when he comes home. Because when he gets here, his bags are bursting with presents.

Eric goes to the Indian markets where he can buy things for a tenth of what you would pay in the U.S. Beautiful beaded and embroidered skirts, beaded curtains, intricate gold-threaded pillows, marble coasters, amazing rugs, and some of the cutest kids clothes you've ever seen. And it's all so cheap. Bianca asked for Indian shoes, some clothes, and some sequined pens. And she got them. I got way more than I expected.

He swooped in late yesterday afternoon, handed out his presents, then had to rush off to go to his fantasy football draft. A lot like Santa, I thought. He comes, barely makes an appearance, and then he's off again. It wouldn't have surprised me had he driven off in a sleigh with eight tiny reindeer.

But to tell the truth, I would have been fine even if he hadn't had time to go to the Indian market and shower us with presents. But it does make his return even more exciting. Dare I say a little like it would feel to actually spend Christmas in India?