Holiday memories

Christmas is over which means I have to wait until New Year’s Eve to continue eating my feelings away.   I was convinced this holiday was going to be a disaster.   Several days before Christmas my 6-year-old complained of a stomach ache.  I did everything short of witchcraft to make this kid feel better.  I even tried to convince him he wasn’t getting sick.  It’s a case of mind over matter, right?  I think it was around 3 a.m. when I realized that was a bunch of crap.   He screamed my name with an extreme sense of urgency.  By the second kid you can figure out the problem by translating the pitch of one’s cry.   He was not having a bad dream.  This was a I am about to puke shriek.   I jumped out of bed landing on what I believe was a toy.  I tried to turn on a light.  Click.  Click.  Nothing.  The house was pitch black. The entire neighborhood was dark.  The power was out thanks to a small ice storm.  I managed to find my phone on the nightstand and used it to find my way into the bathroom to locate a bucket.  Then, I made my way into my son’s bedroom.  I got there just in time to catch an explosion.  It is tough to comfort your child while holding a bucket with one hand and a cell phone in the other.  Plus, the poor kid was half asleep and wasn’t exactly following directions.   This scenario repeated itself about half a dozen times in the next few hours.  Have you ever used a flashlight app on your phone to catch vomit in a bucket?  Oh, then you haven’t lived my friend.  Do you know who should have been Time’s Person of the Year?  Amish mothers.   I have a new respect for motherhood sans electricity.   Luckily, it was a 24 hour bug.  The other kids didn’t catch it.  Santa Claus came and went.  My children were shrieking Christmas morning, but  in a good way.   This is what I will remember most about this holiday: The image of my 6-year-old raising his hands in the air declaring victory after opening a present.  The sound of my daughter’s giggle as she skipped out of the room with a new doll, her ponytail swinging slowly from left to right.  The look on my teenagers face when he, after opening what he thought was the last gift, realized the gaming system he wanted was already set up. It was magical.   I will remember the joy on their faces, laughing at the dinner table and enjoying time with our extended family.  My father sitting on the couch with my first born son.   My mother’s face lighting up watching her grandchildren play together.  It makes those dark moments worth it.

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