Christmas Aftershock

Is anyone else completely exhausted? Or is it just me? Because I need a 3 hour massage and about 18 hours of sleep. Seriously. I totally get why bears hibernate through the winter. One, to avoid going out in the bone numbing cold and two, to recover from the holidays.

We had a wonderfully awesome Christmas here. The kids had a blast and we were so lucky to have my mom stay with us. Somehow, even though I had all the gifts wrapped and ready to go before lunch on Christmas Eve (that's a big deal for me by the way) I was still up until after midnight. There wasn't even anything to assemble. I'm not sure how it happened, but there you go.

Then wham...Christmas morning. In our house Christmas morning sounded something like this.

Door creaks open.

Child gasps.

Footsteps race across the house.

Our bedroom door flies open.

Biggest child launches herself with a flying squirrel leap onto our bed and screams,

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!!!!"

To which I said, "is your brother awake?"

Biggest child does some sort of Russian gymnastic dismount from the bed and races to her brother's room.

Muffled and intense sibling discussion.

Smaller footsteps race across the house.

Smallest child tries to jump on the bed. Falls. Tries again. Falls. Grabs onto Major Dad's leg and pulls himself up (possibly pulling out leg hair as well).

"IT'S CHRISTMAS!"

To which Major Dad says, "well we're not opening presents until Grandma is up."

Both children disappear in a puff of pajama colored smoke.

Footsteps race down the stairs to jump on poor unsuspecting Grandma's bed.

And it was a fun day. A wrapped present that barked (a toy dog, not a wrapped puppy I promise), a remote control helicopter that I'm pretty sure is stalking me and Turducken for dinner (thank you Grandma Lisa for sending it!).

What? You've never heard of a Turducken? Neither had I until I married a man from New Orleans. It's a duck stuffed inside a chicken then stuffed inside a turkey. So when you slice it, you get a Neapolitan of meat. Yes, Turducken, when one plucked and stuffed bird on a platter just isn't enough. In fact, isn't there some song about the three dead birds of Christmas? No? Hmmm....I really must be tired.