It started last Christmas morning 2007 in Argentina. I was bound and determined to have nice Christmas music playing, the tree all lit, the smell of something yummy cooking, and all of us dressed in Christmas pj's while opening presents on Christmas morning. As you can imagine it didn't work out that way at all. It started with the breakfast. I tried to make Matt's grandmother's recipe for her coffee cake, but the ingredients couldn't be found to pull that off (that happened because we lived in a third world country). So I made a friend's recipe for homemade cinnamon rolls. What was I thinking that we would be rolling out cinnamon rolls and putting together toys at the same time?????? Asking Matt for help while he was being pulled in all directions from the kids didn't work; it did not end up the story book Christmas morning.
I had visions of this Christmas Eve and how it would all play out. We would got to church, come home, get out cookies for Santa and carrots for the reindeer and maybe leave Santa a little note. Then Matt would read The Night Before Christmas and the kids would go to bed (all in their matching pj's of course). NOT! We ordered pizza before church (how traditional)! We all went to church but left Cole with the maid. Half way through the service Reid fell asleep. Matt attempted to read The Night Before Christmas while Reid was half asleep and Cole was pulling on the pages of the book. Graham was the only one listening to daddy read. We put the kids in bed and I took out the cookies for Santa, alone!
This Christmas morning was something similiar; hopefully I will learn next year! I decided to make a quiche and have it cooking while we opened our presents. You know, that whole yummy smell of something baking Christmas morning. The whole time it is cooking I am being asked, "HOW MUCH LONGER, I NEED THE OVEN A.S.A.P FOR THE TURKEY"! O.K. that didn't go so well either. The kids ended up eating left over donuts from Dunkin Donuts! And no, they weren't in matching pj's!
The day after Christmas we were all excited about taking a road trip (about 5 1/2 hours) to Nicaragua to visit our good friends we knew in Chile. My vision was that I would sit in the front seat eating my Starburst (my favorite road trip candy) and read my People magazine while the kids watched their movie. Thirty minutes into the trip we hear Graham crying that his stomach hurt and he needed to go to the bathroom. We quickly pulled over, then we were on our way again. Ten minutes later, we heard Graham tell us he was going to throw up. I quickly climbed to the backseat and held a bag in his face, sure enough I put it down and he threw up! We pulled over, changed clothes and moved on. Ten minutes later, Reid said he was going to throw up. We were on the side of the road again changing clothes. By the third time and me holding the bag in front of Graham's face, he did throw up but we had gotten pretty good. No need to stop! So, for the next 4 1/2 hours I sat in the backseat between the 2 boys ready to shove a bag into their face!
I guess I shouldn't complain, and I should embrace these memories. I know that in a flash my sweet boys won't put cookies out for Santa or need me to hold a barf bag in their face for four hours. 
The night before Christmas!
1 comment:
The road trip story made me laugh..:o)..we just got back from Carilo and decided to take the puppy and we weren't even to the other side of BA before both Micah and the dog were throwing up; in total, they threw up about a half-dozen times between the two of them! Fun times....:O))))
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