I am thankful Christmas comes only once a year; so, I imagine, are the drivers of recycling trucks.
And as my holiday bonus, no one puked this year, and I am eternally grateful I didn’t have to sleep with The Vomitator and play catch-the-acid-chunks like I did last year in an RV in Arizona.
Instead of telling you all the warm fuzzies, which include staying in pajamas all day and admiring my kids’ Lego creations, I’m going to tell you the lowlights. Because I’m that kind of person.
Lowlight 1: The Wake-Up
A couple of years ago, we started the Santa-Leaves-the-Stockings-on-the-Bed Tradition. We stole this idea from my sister-in-law, and it has brought us a few extra minutes of sleep. This year, our first Christmas ever in our own home, we told William and Vivian they could open the stockings in their room. We neglected to tell them not to wake us up at 5:45 a.m. to announce their intentions by trampolining on our bed.
Lowlight 2: His Gift
Even though my husband is hard to buy for, I found two books that he loves. Still, I managed to fail by purchasing a DVD collection that he bought last year when we shopped together. In addition to losing this memory, I can’t find the receipt either, no doubt filed under dementia.
Lowlight 3: My Gift
It’s politically incorrect to complain about your own gift, but what-the-heck. I got some lovely things (including some Lululemon wear), but when I pulled out a long-sleeved purple shirt, my smile said give me an explanation. My husband looked at me sheepishly and said, “I thought it was pajamas.” Suffice it to say that it wasn’t lingerie. We live in Canada, people. Brrr.
Lowlight 4: Batteries
We saved a lot of money by purchasing used gifts for our kids, but we remortgaged our house to buy batteries.
Lowlight 5: The Broken Toy
In what may be a new record, William broke his remote control Super Mario car that some poor child worker likely assembled somewhere. Yes, Super Mario is decapitated; we have a bit of a history of guillotining dolls.
And yes, I’m fully aware that if these are my lowlights, I’m incredibly lucky. May all your batteries and toys work, and may it not take you half your holidays to assemble your children’s gifts.
Just for the record I love that you’re “that kind of person.” I wonder if everyone else gets the immense humor that I find in the simple picture of the lego gift and rearrangement. I’m laughing before I even get into the post! Gotta watch that Mario. Rip off his head and you never know how he’ll respond.
Glad you liked the Lego rearrangement. It made me laugh, too, even as it freaked out Vivian.
Alas, poor Mario, I knew him well…
I love your posts. They give me hope. Although that may not be very encouraging to you; it means that I am not the only one out there that is happy Christmas is only one day a year, thankful that my children aren’t sick and grateful that although the husband purchased me a gift, it wasn’t exactly what I wanted.
Thanks for the camaraderie. Here’s to the other 364 days of the year (minus the kids’ birthdays, of course…).
Yea Christmas. You have to laugh about it really! Our house looks like a toy store and we didn’t buy Theo as SINGLE gift. NOTHING. I want to feel grateful but the waste is pretty egregious.
True…Is “egregious” in the Globe and Mail’s holiday crossword? How are you doing on that? We’re nearly done the bottom half. Maybe by Easter…
“In addition to losing this memory, I can’t find the receipt either, no doubt filed under dementia.”
This made me laugh out loud—thanks! I have 11-year-old girl twins, and I’d like to say that Christmas (along with everything else) gets easier but . . . frankly, it doesn’t really. It gets different, though. For example, this Christmas, the girls opened their stockings, and played with toys they received the night before, allowing us to sleep until 9:30! (This miracle almost made a believer out of me.)
“It doesn’t really [get easier]”? Don’t say that! Still, the 9:30 sleep in sounds positively luxurious! Only five more years to go. I think I can, I think I…
Somehow, despite having four kids, I’ve never been subjected to the Christmas morning pre-dawn wake-up attack. Ever. (We always said “not before 7”, and shockingly, they listened! Weird.) This year, with my youngest now 12 yrs old, I woke up before any of the kids. *ducks as y’all throw lego at my head*
Good job ducking, Shari. Maybe some day, I too will wake up first (and not on one of my insomniac cycles!)
Like the Legos. I can just picture him making those revisions and thinking, “There, that looks better.”
“We remortgaged our house to buy batteries.” Funny. And true. How can woooden blocks needs batteries?
All in all, those lows are pretty high, especially in comparison to dealing with Christmas puking.