I tend to think about vomit.
While I do love the lights, and the music, and all that other stuff, it’s the vomit years that are indelibly marked in my mind. Since having kids, we have not had a single Christmas where there wasn’t at least one person suffering from some sort of intestinal upheaval. This year was no exception; Beege and I were struck down the week before school holidays.
The most memorable one though, would have to be the year Kee was one. The husband was performing in a show over the holidays, and I was left largely alone with Beege (who was 3 at the time), and baby Kee.
‘Twas the week before Christmas, and I was alone,
For Husband had taken a job in a show.
He was out of the house for 6 nights a week,
While still working full time – really quite a feat.
We all were exhausted, but I most of all,Since I’d contracted some evil head cold as well.“It’s Strep!” The helpful doctor exclaimed,And sent me off for pills with an unpronounceable name.
That I pulled myself from my bed to see what was the matter.
The vomit was spraying from each child through the air,
and I thanked heaven above that buckets were near.
Then I felt a lurch, and a heave of my own,
I ran for the bathroom, and let out a groan.He found us that night, as we had been all daySprawled in the bathroom, covered with spray.The baby was held over the tub with care,
While the Toddler cried and threw up in my hair.
My own bucket was filled, right to the brim,
There was not one surface that didn’t need scrubbing with Vim.
Two more dark days were spent this way.
And I think, out of decency, that’s all I should say.But at least, from then onWhen the regular Christmas crap comes to passI just say to myself, “At least it’s not 2009,The Year Christmas Kicked My Ass.”