Twenty four hours ahead of Christmas day I had everything just tickety boo. Gracie's stocking was stuffed to overflowing with one dollar items from the Japanese store, from a fan in the shape of a watermelon to multi colored rice scoops for her miniature kitchen, There was a cute pink lunch box with a pink strap and baby chopsticks to crayons and coloring in books, I announced to my husband, while finishing a little note to my daughter from Santa. 'I am feeling pretty smug I can tell you.' He smiled proudly.
I then defrosted my giant ten pound turkey, ridiculous for the two of us seeing Gracie is a vegetarian. Yes, yes I know. Blame her Daddy and Tony Robbins for that one. It was then that I felt a disturbance in my tummy. Its nothing, I thought. I'm pregnant, must be junior larking around in there.
I looked for something else to do. The laundry was folded and the kitchen all sparkly. Our Christmas tree, despite its ridiculous bend, that made the fairy appear like it was bungying to the floor. And the distinct lack of ornaments on the left side, the side accessible to our 1 year old, looked quite appealing in a comical way. Everything was set for a perfect first Christmas as a family.
Another stir, then another, then an 'Oh My God I have to.................' I raced to the bathroom before a disaster had occurred all over my daughters clean pressed onesies. My husband raced in and then immediately raced out again with an ' Are you okay sweetie?...... Ooooooohhh... I'll just be out here with Gracie if you need me.' Wimp.
I don't remember much of the following 24 hours except for staring at the ceiling and re-coiling on my bed asking why, of all days in the year, do I have to get sick on Christmas. I am never sick. Okay, I fake sick, naturally, to get out of running to the store in the rain for salsa chips and taking out the recycling in minus zero conditions. But I am never actually sick.
I eventually sleep and wake just in time to prepare a half hearted Christmas dinner, groaning and sitting on the kitchen floor occasionally, with my daughter way too excited with her plastic pink rice scoop. The turkey is dry and we eat 4 slices, my lavish cranberry, almond and brandy stuffing is distinctly lacking the main ingredient of 'stuffing mix' ( well I thought it meant herbs). Its bread less, looks like a goo, my husband burying it deep into his potatoes possibly to disguise the taste.
I give up by four and take to my bed to watch 'Hangover' with Gracie and my husband, We laugh at the trail of destruction. There is always next year.....
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