Two years ago I had the most sad, relaxing, pitiful, stress-free Christmas I've ever had as an adult. Memory waves, memory waves, memory waves...
It all started on Christmas Eve. That's when our four-year-old announced his arrival at my grandparents house by puking all over the driveway. Husband and Justin ended up spending Christmas Eve on the living room floor on top of Husband's patented kid-puke-preventing three layers of bath towels.
Christmas Eve is always crazy. Every year I spend all day preparing for the Christmas day brunch I host, then we head to my grandparents for dinner, then church, then over to Husband's Grandma's for some post-church gift opening. We usually get home late, the kids are exhausted, then we have to prepare for Santa's arrival.
That year I took Ryan and Morgan on our appointed rounds then came home earlier than usual. We got everyone to bed--even Justin--then started working to get ready for Santa. Pretty soon I started feeling queasy. I stumbled past the dining room table already set for Christmas brunch and onto the couch.
The puking stated soon after and I spent all night heaving and then dragging myself back to bed. By Christmas morning I was weak and dehydrated. My first greeting to my husband that day: call everyone and cancel brunch. Then I turned over and went to sleep.
I slept all day. On Christmas. I slept while our three children opened their presents--of course, Husband didn't think to take any photos. I slept while Husband took the kids to my mother's house--and Justin got the opportunity to prove all over the couch that he wasn't completely better either.
I slept while Husband washed towels and helped the kids design a track for the new Thomas the Train set. I slept while my uneaten breakfast casserole fermented in the fridge. Occasionally I would wake up and hear the sounds of my children enjoying the delights of new toys. Once, I woke up to hear the phone ringing--some farmer wanting to buy a pig--on Christmas??
I slept until it was time to sleep again. And then I slept all night. At some point, I guess I ate and drank but I don't remember. All I remember is spending an entire Christmas day in bed by myself. I felt sad at some points, secretly relieved at others. When was I ever going to have the chance to spend Christmas Day alone in bed?
That year, I opened my presents on December 26. And while I wouldn't chose or recommend spending Christmas alone in bed--it wasn't completely terrible.