We had the very best Christmas.
Oh! We really did!
It all started on Christmas Eve, when I was laboring in the kitchen to make a pot of homemade (YES! MADE-IN-THE-HOME WITH REAL VEGETABLES!) chicken stew, while Hubs showed off an abundance of new computer software to my dad, and the boy chatted on my iPhone with his buddy Enzo, about the essential gear they would need to hunt Big Foot and also about some creature that had just recently been featured on an episode of River Monsters that had the man-eating jaws of death that could snap a grown man’s leg plum off and make him bleed out.
It was a Norman Rockwell moment if I ever saw one.
And then my entire family showed up for Christmas Eve dinner, and we went to our Candlelight Service at church, which is my VERY FAVORITE thing to do all year long, and then we had Christmas! Christmas! Christmas! And Christmas really started for us at precisely 1:37 AM on Sunday morning, when the boy waltzed into our bedroom, shouted, “Merry Christmas, guys!” loud enough to wake the dead, and then inquired about whether or not it was time to open presents. Mama very gently and very lovingly tucked his euphoric self back into bed.
And then today we all woke up with a Christmas Hangover, and I just thought I’d show you how things looked around here.
That jug of eggnog? Yeah. It had been sitting RIGHT HOLY THERE for two-point-five days when I finally poured the remnants down the drain and put the empty jug in the garbage today. No amount of rum was going to make that warm stuff drinkable.
And really? Where are my kitchen counters in that picture?
Also, I would just like y’all to know that the once-beautiful dish of greenery that acted as our holiday centerpiece was not equipped with the CT Irrigator this holiday season, and that sucker dried out to a bit of tinder that would have made the Forest Service people gasp in horror and hammer NO FIRES! AND DO NOT LIGHT THE GAS STOVE! signs in our front yard.
That little centerpiece took DRY to a level that’s usually only found in the Sahara with a layer of sand on it.
Climbers who had grown bored with K2 called today, asking for permission to climb our laundry pile. I told them that the avalanches of dirty T-shirts were in full swing, and our homeowners’ insurance wouldn’t cover them. We had no St. Bernards with barrels of whiskey tied around their neck to go sniff out the buried victims, and Cat 1 would have just said, “Let ’em rot!”
For the record, I’m not fully convinced that Cat 1 even knows Jesus, but I continue to share Him with her on a regular basis. One of these days she’s going to totally GET the Gospel; I just know it.
So today, with my hair looking like I could have been homeless and in desperate need of a brush, I dug our family out of the chaos.
Our kitchen counters are bare and clean.
The dining room table is bare and clean.
The living room sofa is bare and clean.
The boy’s bedroom floor is bare and clean.
The laundry! Sweet mercy, but 6 of the 7 loads are done.
And y’all would think that four sugar cookies, a handful of pretzel M&Ms, two homemade salted caramels, and a thick slice of leftover cream-cheese-topped pumpkin bread would be enough for one person today, but apparently it wasn’t, because I had leftover chicken stew for dinner tonight, and Hubs is currently DEMOLISHING MY KITCHEN and baking himself another rum cake.
Well, all signs of Christmas are pretty much wiped out around here, EXCEPT OUR CHRISTMAS TREE IS STILL UP! That’s a real shocker, because in sixteen years of marriage, our tree has never, ever, not one single time, made it to December 27th, but I’m too worn out to dismantle it right now.
Tomorrow morning, people, that thing is gone, even though it is still LUSH and GREEN and FULLY DRESSED IN ITS OWN PINE NEEDLES, because of Hubs’ brilliant invention of the CT Irrigator. Too bad the table centerpiece didn’t fare as well, because it’s currently taking up space in our dumpster outside. You could actually start an entire forest fire if a spark from a scooter lands on THAT sucker today.
I’ll be back tomorrow with pictures, unless I’m busy watching something riveting, like Monster Quest or Moonshiners or Pawn Stars on the TV with my boys. You can never sacrifice quality television entertainment in order to put up a blog post, people.