“Visions of sugarplums dance in their heads…”
I always picture Christmas being perfect. Gifts wrapped just so, with the homemade bows that I am really good at making. Breakfast casserole ready to pop in the oven for Christmas morning. Music playing, everything Martha Stewart perfect and pretty.
Then I open my eyes to reality. Reality being me holding G’s long blonde hair out of her face as she vomits over and over throughout the night. Reality being me getting the poor girl wet washcloths, new clothes, new vomit bucket, sips (tiny) of water because she is begging for it. Reality being the world’s longest night stretching out forever, until G and I finally fall asleep around five. Then N-Dawg wakes me excitedly at seven, because Santa REALLY came!! Yes, Santa really did manage to come in between spells of vomiting. The gifts are not wrapped perfectly, there are no homemade bows (bows- what the heck are those?), and casseroles can wait til another day…
But N-Dawg is so excited about even his stocking - “PEZ, Mom!!!!!! And look- a Pez dispenser too! SWEEEEEEET!”. The kid doesn’t even have the gimmes about his stuff under the tree, as he is satisfied with just his stocking. And G has stopped vomiting, and drags herself out long enough to ooh and aaah over her gifts- booksbooksbooksbooks- before she collapses in bed.
Merry Christmas- I am off to take a nap.
