didn’t ask Santa for this
oh my god it sucks
Picture this, if you dare:
3:00AM Christmas morning: I wake up freeeeeeezing and then wet and warm. WTF? The heater is out. And the wee-er one has peed on me. The events are not related, but ominous.
4:30AM: I notice a light on in the living room. Then my brother-in-law knocks on my bedroom door and informs me that my sister is puking her guts out, as is he.
6:30AM: My husband goes into the master bathroom and never really comes out. He’s sick, too.
7:00AM: I decide I’m not feeling quite right, so before the puking begins, I WAKE UP the wee one so I can selfishly see him enjoy his Santa gifts before I start puking.
8:00AM: We call my sister-in-law to tell her and her husband and my mother-in-law and father-in-law (who had previously been puking over at my house at about 4:00AM on Saturday) not to come over right away. My sister-in-law informs us that my brother-in-law woke up at 12:30AM, fainted in the bathroom, and whacked his head and nose pretty badly on the wall (or some other hard object). They opt to stay home for awhile.
9:00AM: I am feeling worse, so I call and beg for my in-laws to come on over and help me, as my husband has gone back to bed and I’m feeling funky.
9:15AM: My sister and her husband decide that driving while puking is a better option than staying at my diseased abode, so they leave to make the 3-hour drive home. They take their presents, unwrapped, with them. My sister says they will not be coming back. Ever. I so don’t blame her.
9:30AM: It’s 55 degrees in my bedroom because the heat is officially out. These are like the only two days it’s been cold out here in weeks.
10:00AM: I take a shower and cry.
11:30AM: Everyone shows up in their varying stages of pain and sickness.
Noon: We alternate between bathroom trips and unwrapping presents.
Thank the little baby Jesus, the wee one and the wee-er one seem to be OK for now. Please, please, please have them stay healthy. We’ve got a fucking cruise ship/nursing home/virulent beastie taking us all down one by one. Either that or someone poisoned the Christmas cookies. Stupid noroviruses and cookie poisoners and broken heaters. You can all kiss my shivering, plague-infested butt.
And I was really excited for Christmas this year.