Christmas Eve
Merry Christmas Eve!
Make that Merry blinking early Christmas Eve morning. For some reason, we are all up at the unfortunate hour of 6. And by "we" I mean "me". Charles has been up for hours, but that is his issue. Colin has been up since 5, but as he actually asked to go to bed at 6:50 last night, it makes sense. No, he is not sick, he just got stuck on the idea that since tomorrow was Christmas Eve, that Santa was coming last night rather than tonight. In all honesty, Charles and I DID point out the truth. Once. And then shrugged to each other and bundled him off to bed. Sara soon followed and we found ourselves in the lovely circumstance of it being 7:30 with both kids asleep. So instead of a kid's Christmas movie, we watched the 3rd Harry Potter movie.
Unfortunately, I woke up thirsty at 2am. And then realized I had to, erm, use the facilities. Seemed a waste of time, to empty the tank and then immediately fill it, but with some things it is useless to argue. After all the excitement of taking care of fluid maintenance, I was unable to drift back to sleep. The reason for which was my asshole of a stomach:
S: "Grumble, grumble. I'm hungry."
D: "Shut up. Go to sleep. It's 2am."
S: "I'M HUNGRY! Get me some cranberry bread. It's just there on the counter."
D: "No. You know the rule. No middle of the night eating. Ever."
S: "Don't give me that. You've done it before. Just get up and grab that box of cheezee crackers. If you take the box back to bed, we will both be happy. Charles probably won't notice and you are washing the sheets tomorrow, anyway."
D: "I broke the rule once. When I was pregnant. Pregnant doesn't count. Go to sleep. It's not happening."
S: (sounding like Audrey 2 in Little Shop of Horrors) "FEED ME!"
D: "(bleep) you. I am not getting up."
The conversation degraded from there with much said on both sides that will require "working through" but I did win the battle. However, when I surfaced from sleep at a bit before 6am, my stomach was waiting in ambush. I made sure it realized I was still boss, though, and fed it an orange first. And then made a pot of tea. And last of all hacked 2 large pieces off the loaf of cranberry bread on the counter. So stomach is happily mulling over the bread (I can tell as it is making those happy tummy gurgly noises) and I am sipping a 3rd cuppa and catching up on my blog habit.
To be fair, though, the poor stomach did have to put up with a lot the day before yesterday, which was the clinic pot luck lunch, Midwest style. There was not a single fruit or vegetable, just miles of cheeze and chips and dips and salty soups. All tasty but combining to make for some rather unpleasant gastric distress a couple of hours later. I would have brought some homemade bread or a veggie or fruit platter, but I was forbidden from bringing anything. Wonder what they are trying to tell me? We won't mention the constant whining about obesity or the candy drawer behind the nurses station.
I always have to think of the story of my sister's wedding shower thrown by her soon-to-be inlaws in Iowa. My sister is vegetarian, something that completely flabbergasts them. She suggested a pot luck salad luncheon for the shower. And that is exactly what she got. Midwestern salads. I believe it was something like 1 potato salad, 2 macaroni salads, and 37 jello salads, many with Cool Whip. The ubiquitous "Mexican layered salad" was probably not there as that would have meant seasoned hamburger in it, which is a bit of a shame, as any REAL Midwestern pot luck must have the Mexican layered salad with shredded cheeze from a bag. Nothing gets the bowels going faster. I'm actually surprised this is not found in capsule form next to the Ex-Lax. Probably can't get a patent on it. Pity.
Colin's birthday was a smashing success, if success means he got cheese pizza "with cheese and sauce and nothing on it", chocolate cake with chocolate frosting decorated with Scooby Doo motif complete with bobble-head Scooby and 2 working curly straws (huh?), followed by a pile of presents. He is already plotting his next birthday. There was some grumbling from some of those in the adult sector that the frosting was "too fudgy" but I say "bugger that". As if. Plus, that is the perk of being the cake picker-outer. I get to choose the fudgy rather than the bland white frosting.
So today, we will loaf around (and starting at 6am means there is a lot of day to be loafed), Colin and I will make cut-out Christmas cookies when Sara naps, and we will eat "snacky" dinner and drink champagne. Santa will come and hopefully bring Colin the only thing he wants, a Lord of the Rings game for the computer. Somehow, I don't think he will be disappointed.
All our love to you and hope your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice or Festivus is warm and bright and filled with all good things. With our 2 bugs, I think this will be our best yet.
Make that Merry blinking early Christmas Eve morning. For some reason, we are all up at the unfortunate hour of 6. And by "we" I mean "me". Charles has been up for hours, but that is his issue. Colin has been up since 5, but as he actually asked to go to bed at 6:50 last night, it makes sense. No, he is not sick, he just got stuck on the idea that since tomorrow was Christmas Eve, that Santa was coming last night rather than tonight. In all honesty, Charles and I DID point out the truth. Once. And then shrugged to each other and bundled him off to bed. Sara soon followed and we found ourselves in the lovely circumstance of it being 7:30 with both kids asleep. So instead of a kid's Christmas movie, we watched the 3rd Harry Potter movie.
Unfortunately, I woke up thirsty at 2am. And then realized I had to, erm, use the facilities. Seemed a waste of time, to empty the tank and then immediately fill it, but with some things it is useless to argue. After all the excitement of taking care of fluid maintenance, I was unable to drift back to sleep. The reason for which was my asshole of a stomach:
S: "Grumble, grumble. I'm hungry."
D: "Shut up. Go to sleep. It's 2am."
S: "I'M HUNGRY! Get me some cranberry bread. It's just there on the counter."
D: "No. You know the rule. No middle of the night eating. Ever."
S: "Don't give me that. You've done it before. Just get up and grab that box of cheezee crackers. If you take the box back to bed, we will both be happy. Charles probably won't notice and you are washing the sheets tomorrow, anyway."
D: "I broke the rule once. When I was pregnant. Pregnant doesn't count. Go to sleep. It's not happening."
S: (sounding like Audrey 2 in Little Shop of Horrors) "FEED ME!"
D: "(bleep) you. I am not getting up."
The conversation degraded from there with much said on both sides that will require "working through" but I did win the battle. However, when I surfaced from sleep at a bit before 6am, my stomach was waiting in ambush. I made sure it realized I was still boss, though, and fed it an orange first. And then made a pot of tea. And last of all hacked 2 large pieces off the loaf of cranberry bread on the counter. So stomach is happily mulling over the bread (I can tell as it is making those happy tummy gurgly noises) and I am sipping a 3rd cuppa and catching up on my blog habit.
To be fair, though, the poor stomach did have to put up with a lot the day before yesterday, which was the clinic pot luck lunch, Midwest style. There was not a single fruit or vegetable, just miles of cheeze and chips and dips and salty soups. All tasty but combining to make for some rather unpleasant gastric distress a couple of hours later. I would have brought some homemade bread or a veggie or fruit platter, but I was forbidden from bringing anything. Wonder what they are trying to tell me? We won't mention the constant whining about obesity or the candy drawer behind the nurses station.
I always have to think of the story of my sister's wedding shower thrown by her soon-to-be inlaws in Iowa. My sister is vegetarian, something that completely flabbergasts them. She suggested a pot luck salad luncheon for the shower. And that is exactly what she got. Midwestern salads. I believe it was something like 1 potato salad, 2 macaroni salads, and 37 jello salads, many with Cool Whip. The ubiquitous "Mexican layered salad" was probably not there as that would have meant seasoned hamburger in it, which is a bit of a shame, as any REAL Midwestern pot luck must have the Mexican layered salad with shredded cheeze from a bag. Nothing gets the bowels going faster. I'm actually surprised this is not found in capsule form next to the Ex-Lax. Probably can't get a patent on it. Pity.
Colin's birthday was a smashing success, if success means he got cheese pizza "with cheese and sauce and nothing on it", chocolate cake with chocolate frosting decorated with Scooby Doo motif complete with bobble-head Scooby and 2 working curly straws (huh?), followed by a pile of presents. He is already plotting his next birthday. There was some grumbling from some of those in the adult sector that the frosting was "too fudgy" but I say "bugger that". As if. Plus, that is the perk of being the cake picker-outer. I get to choose the fudgy rather than the bland white frosting.
So today, we will loaf around (and starting at 6am means there is a lot of day to be loafed), Colin and I will make cut-out Christmas cookies when Sara naps, and we will eat "snacky" dinner and drink champagne. Santa will come and hopefully bring Colin the only thing he wants, a Lord of the Rings game for the computer. Somehow, I don't think he will be disappointed.
All our love to you and hope your Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Solstice or Festivus is warm and bright and filled with all good things. With our 2 bugs, I think this will be our best yet.
Labels: Drivel
posted by Diana at 8:50 AM
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