Those of you in the know are aware that it's not really a holiday if someone isn't physically impaired. I can't recall the last time we had a healthy What If Cats and Dogs Had Opposable Thumbs Day (March 3) or an injury-free Sneak Some Zucchini Onto Your Neighbor's Porch Night (August 8). I mean, seriously. Are we cursed?
This time it was Papa who was under the weather. A bad back sucks, though he'd have about 20 minutes of semi-lucidity when the drugs were doing their thing. We hardly saw him, but we knew he was there even if only in spirit or as a lump on the floor to keep the kids from jumping on.
For the rest of us (us (including Tokul), Nana, Grams and Gramps) Christmas Eve was an early service on Christmas Eve when we learned there were cheetahs and elephants with Jesus in the manger and were reminded that bottled oxygen probably shouldn't be in the same sanctuary as a bunch of kids with lit candles. (Can't you just see the headlines for that?) Then we sprinkled reindeer food on the "lawn" (read: strip of grass by the curb) to draw in Santa.
The next morning poor Carl was still down for the count, which was doubly lame for us since he usually manages the kids while we get some extra sleep in the mornings. The kids tore into their stockings and then I tore into a new Starbucks card for some much needed caffeine. (Yes, they were open!) Fueled up, we made short work of the mounds of gifts. Paper was everywhere and ribbons wrapped around most of our necks. (Note to self: use stick-on ribbons next year.)
We fled when the gifts were exhausted (not really) to take our loot in two separate cars back to our lair in the mountains. The kid were hammered and barely able to keep their eyes open on the ride home, but still plenty awake to wreak havoc and resist the opportunity to go to bed at a decent hour.
Never willing to let sleeping kids lie we were up the next day preparing for Grandma Joan and the Triplet Troop to visit. More paper! More gifts! More tears! More screaming! At least nobody was broken (well, not obviously so, there was surgery looming in the week after Christmas for Grandma Joan, but that's a different back injury story).
So... um... what day is it? Right. Saturday night. Boxing Day night. Amy and I locked the kids in their rooms... er... put them down for a nice winter's nap and actually had a moment or two to relax together. It was nice, but short lived. There was too much to do, just like there always is.