Saturday, January 5, 2008

My Christmas Story

We spent Christmas at my parents house Up North. We played games . . . we all love Apples to Apples . . .cooked a ton of food, went sledding, had a good time together with Grandpa occasionally yelling at the boys for being to loud, running, jumping . . .basically being three little boys. But we all survived. Christmas Eve our little dumplings went right to bed without a problem and we rejoiced.

My mom and I finished up the under the tree stuff and we headed off to bed early for us, around 10:30. Joe and I had drifted off for long winter’s nap when what to our wondering eyes should appear, but two little boys ready for Christmas cheer. It was 1:30 in the A.M. Not only were they up, but they had already gone downstairs and seen that Santa had indeed been there. They arrived at our bedside with Lego boxes in tow. Thank God, they didn’t wake up Griffin or my dad. Norm’s like a Grizzly. Don’t wake him up from hibernation, ‘cause you will experience his full force.

Because, I’m probably one of the nicest and possibly the dumbest mom’s on earth I tell them I’ll lie down in their room. My idea was they could put together their Legos and I could finish my interrupted night’s sleep. Great idea, bad application! Just below their bedroom is the family room, which is adjacent to my parents’ room. Unfortunately the bedroom floor acted like a kettle drum. Boom, boom, boom, with every move they made. Will was lying on his stomach and banging his feet. I asked at least ten times for him to stop, but nervous energy kept getting the best of him. Surely this was going to wake up my dad, who is not at all nice when his sleep in disturbed. I’m terrified. I just don’t want to deal with my dad at now 2:30 in the morning. --Meanwhile, I would like to point out, while I’m living my own little personal hell, Joe was sound asleep. -- After repeatedly telling the boys they have to be quiet, enough blood reaches my brain to think the greatest solution. Take the boys over to the loft. This is a huge “playroom” my parents built over the garage. Although we could hear Amy screaming at the top of her lungs during our "sound test" over the summer, I was sure the situation would be better and I could crash on the couch.

We packed up the Legos and headed downstairs. Before our trek began it was decided I would take down the boys’ stockings and bring them with us. They were tied to the banister. As I was untying them, holy smokes, there was my dad. Gus and Will looked like Buckwheat when he saw a ghost. He started yelling at them, when I just lit into him. “I’M TAKING THEM OVER TO THE LOFT. GO BACK TO BED.” He hadn’t noticed me on the stairs and I scared the b’Jesus out of him. I grabbed the stockings and we go.

O.k., finally I got some peace and quiet. Freezing cold peace and quiet. The heaters had been turned off, so it took about a half an hour to heat the place up. I couldn’t sleep. They needed help putting the Legos together and the couch was not comfortable. I just gave up, helped them with the Legos and at 4am I found A Christmas Story on TBS. We opened the couch into a bed and watch the whole movie. At six something, I told them as nicely as I could that they needed to lie down and close their eyes or I would spank them. Lovely Christmas morning mothering! We all drifted off with visions of me whacking there backside and slept until 8am. That’s a better time for Christmas morning to start. We headed downstairs and had a normal Christmas morning.

Needless to say, but I will anyway, I slept from 10am until I think 1pm. I’m thinking Benadryl for next year.

1 comment:

Mindy said...

LOL great story. So much for "Silent Night"