It’s Christmas Eve. Where are the helper elves?


Star of Bethlehem

We’re In Countdown Mode

I am much too tired to do a regular post tonight. I’ve been going non-stop since I rolled out of bed. Somehow, Tillie managed to make herself small and curl up on my right side, right on my shoulder and arm, the one that is hurting. I woke up holding on to one of the rungs on the iron headboard, with my head hanging off, yelling to Corey, “I’m falling off the bed.” To which he replied, “how can you possibly be falling of the bed?”

When I’m falling off the bed, I’d much rather that he grabbed first and asked inane questions later since I fell off the bed in my attempt to answer the question. Luckily, the nice, cushiony dog bed that none of the dogs sleep on broke my fall. This is how my morning, or rather afternoon began. It was already afternoon as I had slept well past noon. I don’t feel guilty since I didn’t fall asleep until 3:30. My insomnia is getting better, though.

My mother’s words of advice are that I shouldn’t be taking sleeping pills because I already take too many pills. This I don’t know already? She then proceeds to yell at me for not answering my phone as I try to explain to her that I couldn’t answer my phone because I was in the doctor’s office, and then after the doctor’s office, I came home and went to bed. To which she replied that she understands, but I shouldn’t sleep during the day, but she spent the day on the couch because her arthritis was acting up, but that’s no reason for me to spend the day in bed . . . ya da ya da ya da . . . I’m dozing off as she is telling me how irresponsible I am . . . I am so tired of my mom being mad at me

So, after getting out of bed today, I wrap presents, and wrap presents, and wrap presents. At some point, I realize that I cannot find a present: the gift card for my daughter. But Brett finds it in a bag. Then I cannot find a present that Brett bought for Corey. At this point, it’s still lost, but we will resume hunt in the morning. We are too tired to keep looking tonight.

Tillie has tried mightily to help wrap presents. It’s her first Christmas, and everything is new and exciting. The ornaments on the tree are new and exciting. Corey is taking bets that the tree will not make it through the holidays. I tell him to run some fishing wire to the ceiling. He looks at me as if I’ve grown a third eye in the middle of my forehead. I know that other people do this to prevent tree toppling. Am I right?

Of course, I could be hallucinating at this point because I haven’t been ingesting fluids regularly throughout the day. I’m also jonesing really bad for something sweet. There is nothing sweet in the house. Eamonn found my gingerbread men. I thought that I would be safe buying gingerbread cookies because there is no chocolate involved. But no, he likes these too. I’m trying to find a cookie that he doesn’t like, but I fear that is not possible.

So no cookies in the house, no ice cream, no chocolate, no jello, and three twizzlers. I need chocolate. Is anyone listening? I’m saving the twizzlers for my most desperate moments as I know that the worst is still yet to come. Eamonn’s presents haven’t been delivered yet; they are due to arrive Wednesday. I’m keeping my fingers crossed.

I did finish my present for my niece. She wanted Obama memorabilia, so I got together a bumper sticker, some voter cards from the campaign, a poster, and a Time Magazine Man of the Year edition. Actually, I’ve bought one of those for everyone’s stockings. Oh crap. I still haven’t made Tillie’s stocking. Maybe that’s the last thing I’ll do before bed.

Have to get up and finish wrapping, put more ornaments on the tree, and make a sweet potato casserole for the luncheon at 2 tomorrow. No problem.

This Christmas Cheer I Could Do Without

The boys’ dad called me today to find out what kind of jeans Brett wanted for Christmas. I only told him weeks ago. He was obviously paying attention to me as usual. Actually, he called Eamonn, and asked Eamonn to ask me. Lovely. Then, said father called me about an hour later to ask what his daughter might want for Christmas. Not only is he last minute shopping, which is none of my business, but he can’t even be bothered having conversations with his children to find out what is going on in their lives long enough to know what they might want or need for Christmas. That is his other son and his daughter. He so obviously plays favorites.

How can the man that I spent a huge part of my life with have turned into someone I barely recognize? This man does not know his youngest son or his daughter. How can he be content with that? How can he live his life knowing that they know that he care more about their brother than them?

I stay out of it. It’s not my business. And besides, he wouldn’t listen to me anyway.

That’s enough for now. If I think about this any more, it will just make me depressed. More later.

Merry Christmas to those of you who are ahead in the time zones.

Peace on earth to you all.