So this year’s Christmas has, sadly, been a bit of a bust. Little Miss Sunshine, Gal Smiley, and I were up most of Wednesday night vomiting — I think poor Sir Monkeypants did about 6 loads of laundry throughout the night and didn’t sleep more than two hours himself. Christmas Eve, the Captain came down with it, and by Christmas morning, Sir Monkeypants was sick too.
We managed to make it through presents and stockings and opening, but most of our past two days has been spent with all five of us on the couch, fighting over which video we are going to watch next, and listening to the Captain declare that this is the “worst Christmas EVER” about a hundred times. All the Christmas treats have gone uneaten. At least three Christmas feasts sit uncooked in the fridge — Christmas Dinner consisted of dry rice krispies for those who could stomach it, cups of ice water for those who couldn’t. I haven’t even been able to taste this week’s pie (but that’s a whole other post).
Plus, we’ve put our trip down to Toronto to meet my new nephew on hold, and possibly will cancel altogether.
It just doesn’t feel too festive around here.
Still, Sir Monkeypants reminded me last night that there have been good things. We’ve all been together. We worked together as a family to make it through — everyone has helped someone else at some point. The kids genuinely loved their gifts — almost exclusively books, videos, and board games from everyone this year, which has been perfect for getting us through these past few days stuck at home.
And even through all that barf, you can still feel the love. Maybe even more so.
It’s 6 a.m. on the 26th now and I’ve already been up for a few hours with the Little Miss, who has risked some canned fruit salad and a piece of Sunbutter toast this morning. I still feel queasy but I also feel happy to be snug in my little house with my little family on a cold and blustery morning.
Merry Christmas, and here’s hoping for a better New Year’s!