A Jinxless Christmas

Sometimes I feel like there is a curse hanging over my home-- one that only showers atrocities during holidays or otherwise happy family gatherings.  There was our first Christmas in our current house when Joel's entire family visited and, one by one, came down with an illness so aggressive that even presents were unappealing.  There was the Mother's Day I spent in bed and the Halloween last year when a dishwasher flood crippled my kitchen and soaked my basement in musty water.  I won't soon forget last year's Christmas Eve gas leak or the many, many, Thanksgivings that were missed due to stomach flu.

We simply seem to be jinxed when it comes to holidays.

This was the thought that kept me up all night on Christmas Eve.  (Well, that and the fear that I might have boxed up the cat while wrapping a few last minute gifts, but around 3am I heard a loud crash and knew everything was normal.)  I tied up all of the loose ends I could conceive of; I washed the dishes in advance of the official "Eat Until You Can't Fit Into Your New Christmas Pajamas" brunch, I cleared the pictures of Graham naked under the tree my children at church from the camera, and I prepared the house for Joel's Dad and brother Seth who would be arriving the day after Christmas.   

I was ready, and nothing would go wrong this year.

When the boys emerged from their room in the morning, I would have sworn they switched bodies.  Graham was jumping up and down, anxious to open presents and totally sure he'd seen Santa meandering about in the backyard with the abandoned baseball bats and snow-covered dog poop.  Cael, in a strange twist, was in no hurry to get to his presents and generously offered for Joel and I to catch a few more holiday winks while he watched an episode of Curious George.  The presents could wait.

But because of my yuletide anxiety, I'd been up since 5:45am and knew I wasn't likely to get any more rest while Graham jabbered on about the neatly wrapped boxes under the tree.  So we dug into our stockings and gifts, the boys delighting in army men, superheroes, books and stuffed animals.  And movies.  And airplanes.  And cars.  And enough other things to make brunch run late and confirm that I overdid it this year.

 But even late, there had been no disasters.  So far, so good. 

As we all gathered 'round the table filled with delicious and not burned, undercooked or otherwise poisonous food, I breathed a sigh of relief.  After Thanksgiving went off without a hitch, I was certain my family was due for a double-dose of seasonal disasters, so I was constantly on the lookout for potential catastrophes.  But with wrapping paper everywhere and bellies full of french toast and pancetta strata, we called Christmas a success.

So for Christmas evening, we reveled in the love of God and the warmth of our family, for which I'm very grateful.  Because the morning of the 26th, Oscar reveled in chocolate coin-induced diarrhea while Cael and Graham reveled in stomach flu.

Merry Christmas, everyone.  Pray that the new year won't kill us.