Another Christmas has come and gone. Thankfully. Don't get me wrong. Christmas has always been a magical time of the year, at least until this year. I'm not sure exactly what the deal was with Christmas at our house this year, but I can be sure it didn't involve any magic elf dust or Santa magic. This is the first year that the kids have been really old enough to not give a hoot about all things normally Christmasy. Well, to be perfectly honest, they've all be old enough before this year, but in years past we forced them to have Christmas fun. So this is the first year the fight has gone out of us completely. The family picking out the perfect Christmas tree together was replaced this year by my husband and I picking one out with the help of the Christmas tree lot attendant while the children were strewn across the valley having lots of fun which included not spending time with their lame-o parents picking out a tree.
This year, not one single solitary Christmas cookie entered our house in any, way, shape or form. None were baked, eaten, bought, or given to us. Perhaps it's some sort of commentary of the state of our weight. Or perhaps its that we have one child who no longer eats junk food of any kind; another who works out every day and is not willing to lift that extra weight to work off that cookie; and another who is a 14 year old girl who is much more interested in hanging out with her best friend than living at our house, let alone eating or baking Christmas cookies.
Needless to say, the whole Santa scene was out including writing letters and carefully placing them in the burning fireplace, so all their Christmas wishes would wend their way to the North Pole. Sitting in Santa's lap? Yeah, not so much. Remember we're talking 18, 16 and 14.
Getting up at 5 am in anticipatory glee to see their presents? That's pretty much gone the way of Christmases past, too. Now we're lucky that any of them are even home at 5 am, let alone wanting to get up and open presents. Speaking of presents, you know, “Cash would really be great. That way we can just get what we really want and you guys don't have to go out shopping.” You can't say they aren't kind and thoughtful kids.
Even though they are all “grown up”, although not grown-up enough to actually move out or use their own money for gas, I still managed to scrounge a couple of presents for them to open instead of just doling our some cash on Christmas morning. Surprisingly enough, all my children were actually home on Christmas morning, albeit sound asleep.
I heard my husband rustling and bustling around in the house on Christmas morning so I thought I would get up and join him. Having just recovered from some surgery, I gingerly got myself out of bed amidst moans and groans (which, unfortunately, is not unlike any other morning when I get out of bed, surgery or not) and went in search of him.
He was outside and on his way into the house and he looked like he was on a mission. I managed a Merry Christmas as he breezed by me. I noticed one of our cute little reindeer was knocked over. I asked him if he was going to pick it up to which he growled in the affirmative. For some reason, he then proceeded to wash the dishes. Why? I don't know and at that point, I figured the safest place for me was back in bed away from anger man.
While lying in bed clutching my heating pad, I clicked on the TV and managed to find a rerun of Matlock which I had only seen 10,000 times. Suddenly, all the lights in the bedroom and bathroom flickered (Matlock seemed to be unaffected). No big deal I thought until I smelled the unmistakable smell of an electrical fire. Please let me elaborate on how I knew it was an electrical fire. My dad was a fireman for 30 years. Doesn't sound like a real basis for any kind of knowledge for what an electrical fire smells like, but it's more than most people can say.
Naturally, my first thought was that this was just great. Any second my house was going to burst into flames and we'd be on the news, the woebegone family burned out of their home on Christmas day, wrapped only in the blankets we were able to grab before our belongings were incinerated. My second thought was to tell my husband because he is a carpenter and would have no idea what to do. Unfortunately, he didn't seem to be home. He had gone out for the paper and some coffee, but I noticed he did pick up the reindeer on his way out.
