Home for the Holidays

Well crud.  Julianna was barfing her guts out last night so we won't be going to my folks' house today.  She keeps gamely insisting that she's "feeling better" but it's not all that convincing with her lying on the couch like a 100 lb sack of potatoes.  So of course, all the kids are very disappointed.  They wanted to see the cousins.  And, of course, "What about our PRESENTS?!"  I assured them that I still had their stocking gifts, the "santa" gifts, the Hanukkah gifts.  "But what about the presents we would open tonight?  From Nonnie and Papa, from the cousin that drew our name?!"  So I said, okay, I'll give you a present to open tonight.  Ben burst into tears. "I've waited all this time and I have to wait until NIGHT?!? It's not FAIR!" (note to kids, scores of whom surely read this blog: "It's not fair" is not a defense.  Parents never go for it.  In fact, as often as not, it makes them want to vote AGAINST you.  Yeah, totally not fair.  I know.)  He was unconsoled by my telling him that even if we were AT my folks' house, there would be no presents until night time anyway.  I was able to cheer them up with the notion that now Santa would have to come to our house and we could leave the fireplace doors closed and he'd be trapped in there in the morning, tapping on the glass. Maybe he'd look up and see the dreidle lights hanging from the mantel and realize his fatal mistake.  The big ones cracked up while Lily sat there intoning, "But there's no such THING as Santa."  Right, that's why it's funny to trap him in the fireplace, sweety.  Holiday Magic manifests differently in our household of non-believers.  The annual Ideas for Torturing Santa will surely become tradtion.

I'm bummin' too, though.  Even though the house is way too crowded at Christmas, with something like 50 grandkids tearing around screaming and making shooting noises, it IS what we do.  And I like to be with MY parents on xmas.  I like to eat too many cookies and laugh about past holidays with my siblings.  Maybe play some cards.  Eat my dad's fruit salad for breakfast on xmas morning.  poop.  (I meant that as an expression of disappointment, not as part of the list of things I like to do.  Although I DO enjoy a good dump. But it's not especially magical at my parents' house).

So I plan to make real egg nog tonight, because nothing settles a queasy stomach like raw eggs and heavy cream.  I'll give the kids a gift to open, give Steve his gifts (other than the Nano, which he couldn't wait for), and tomorrow, we'll see how everyone feels.  If the barfies have passed we'll go to Delaware. My snowbird parents will flee for Florida sometime next week, hopefully we'll catch them before they go.

Update at 4 pm:  Now Lily is barfing, too.  We went to the grocery to get saltines and ginger ale for Julianna, and Lily hurled all over the sidewalk outside the store.  A nice nurse came up and offered to help, to go in and get my groceries for me.  I assured her that we could just go home and I'd come back without her.  Trying to console Lily she said, "Well, Santa's going to come anyway.  Don't you worry.  And he'll make you feel better."  Lily sobbed, "But dere's no such FING!"  I don't think Nurse caught it b/c she kept on.  And so did Lily.  I wanted to say, "Look, I think you're overstating the healing powers of Santa.  Even if he WERE real, I don't think there's anything in his mythology to suggest he heals the sick.  You're getting your theologies muddled."  But I just said thanks and scuttled away.  So now I'm trapped here w/a heaving toddler.  My stomach is queasy, but it's that weird am-I-hungry-or-nauseated kind.  Serious humbug here, folks.