A Christmas of Contrasts, Part the First

This year, Christmas morning took me back to when my children were little – waking up early, tearing into the brightly colored packages, squeals of excitement.

Oh, and the vomit.

Note: The following blog post does NOT contain scenes of a disturbing nature to those with weak stomachs. I promise.

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After the stockings were dumped out and the gifts all opened, my husband and I prepared breakfast. Cinnamon rolls, bagels and cream cheese, and fresh fruit salad. I know, all those carbs, but, fruit salad. Yummy, yummy! (You’re welcome for that earworm.)

Thing 2 took all her loot to her bedroom. I may have even heard a territorial growl or two. I’m not certain.

Thing 1 was still in the living room savoring her haul, and surfing the interwebs, seeing what she missed while sleeping and such. A cry from that room sent us running in to see her latest present to us. Thankfully, she found an open spot on the floor. No gifts were harmed, though the ottoman got splashed a bit. Twenty minutes later, we finally returned to making breakfast, which didn’t look quite as appetizing as before. Her encore performance all over the bathroom vanity and floor was impressive as well. My sluggish instincts finally kicked in and she was banished to her bedroom with a bucket.

Thing 2 refused to be outdone by her older sister. She had a lingering cough over the holiday that, in one amazing act of sitting up quickly from a laying down position to cough, caused her to vomit all over her bed and floor.

Banished.

I finally sat down with a cup of coffee and took one deep breath, savoring the blessed quiet. Then, behind me, I heard the rhythmic, convulsive, gulping sound that strikes fear into every cat owner’s heart.

With all the earlier drama, we’d forgotten Lugnut, our elderly cat. His timing was perfect. His revenge fitting.

Apparently, the odds were not in my favor.

Unlike the kids, Lugnut likes to spread the wealth around, leaving small piles of goodness trailing off toward the closet he prefers to hide in.

Banis–well, he banished himself.

After cleaning up all that, I went back to bed.

The bright spot? Believe it or not, there was one, well, two.

It was warm enough for the hubby to grill steaks outside for dinner. Which went very well with the large vodka and cranberry I decided I’d earned that day.

Tune in to the next post, where things do get better…

 

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