You're. Getting. Sick.
And just four days before Christmas! So I did what any level-headed (that point is strictly debatable), red-blooded American woman would do.
I acknowledged it's presence, started drinking lots of orange juice, and I dared it to take me down. (Oh, and I also bought lots of OTC remedies. I now have a mini pharmacy in my medicine cabinet.)
And that, my friends, is how I ended up sitting in the doctor's office Christmas Eve morning. Luckily I had managed to get most everything done prior to the onset of
I'm usually the cookie baker. I have always baked pretty much all of the cookies for our family Christmas celebrations, and that means dozens and dozens of different kinds of cookies. This year I managed to get one kind mixed. Brie did the others. And you know what? It was all good.
The Hubster stepped up and took care of several of the last minute preparations for Christmas Day dinner. He pared and prepared potatoes, carrots and onions. He kept up with the messes being made in the kitchen and washed dishes and did whatever he could to keep it under control. And again, it was all good.
My MIL brought her usual array of sweets and treats, as well as a tray of fresh veggies and dip and all manner of pies and cakes. And it was all good.
I felt like doing very little and that's pretty much what I managed to accomplish. I made the oyster stew and the homemade blueberry muffins. I did not manage to make the Scotcharoos or the pineapple tartlets. But you know what? It was all good.
The one thing I can say about Christmas 2011, even though I was physically incapable of truly enjoying it the way I normally would:
It was all good.
I have so much for which to be thankful. I have a family who kicks in and picks up the slack when I'm unable to do my usual stuff. Our Christmas was saved even though I wasn't able to do my fair share. And this after I had already ruined Thanksgiving! I managed to come down with a terrible stomach virus the night before and ended up being sick for two days. Brie ended up picking up that slack and having everyone to her house for dinner while I remained quarantined in my bedroom.
Yes, there is just something about holidays and me choosing them as the perfect time to be sick. This makes three Christmases/birthdays in a row that I've been under the weather. (My birthday is on the 27th and always falls prey to either the illness itself or the process of recovery.)
The morals of this story?
1.) I am capable of letting others pick up the slack. I have not always been able to say that. This is MAJOR.
2.) The world will not stop turning if the Scotcharoos don't get made. Figuratively speaking, of course. You may certainly insert any long standing holiday tradition into this sentence and know that it is the truth. I can't think of a single thing that could truly stop the REAL Christmas from coming. Just like Dr. Seuss said:
It came without ribbons.
It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
It's just not about the stuff.
Not that I didn't already know this. But this Christmas was my personal reminder. : )