We'd been preparing for seconds, minutes, hours, days and weeks! Twinkling lights were hung with care. The way-too-gigantor tree that I had bought for a great price off of Kijiji several years ago was fluffed up. Fake tree-needles littered the floor. They were a nice addition to the birdie feathers beneath our budgie cage, the cedar chips tossed about artfully by our guinea pig friends and the doggie and kitty hair that gently blanketed the carpet....like a gentle snowfall of pet debris.
We're all about floor decor around here.
Who needs clean floors?
They are so last year, people!
Homemade decorations heavily lined with gloss and glitter fought for tree space with the shiny, store-bought hangings on our tree. There is never any rhyme or reason to what hangs on our tree. Once I found a budgie cheeping cheerfully on a branch beside seven dinky cars. Gwen and Lochlan asked to hang some candy canes, so I had given them four each and they were hung with care. All in a row. A tree bough dipped dangerously low to the floor under the heavy weight of eight sugary canes. I'm sure we could put more care into ensuring the tree decorations were hung with some sort of feng shui thoughts in mind but I like this haphazard look. It's a whole lot like my family. And my life.
Caringly cluttered.
Boisterously busy.
Eclectically engaging.
Besides the heavily laden Christmas tree and the sparkly lights, random festive things were strewn about. Wreath on door. Crayon-coloured nativity scenes taped to windows. Statuette snowmen lined up next to cherub-cheeked glass angels. Various Christmas literature stacked on the kitchen counter to ensure they would be read: "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" where little Gladys Herdman shouts out from the pages, forever commemorated as the skinny girl with angel wings yelling "Hey, unto YOU a child is born".
An Advent calendar count-down complete with foil-wrapped chocolates and daily activities were laid out every night on the kitchen table. Upstairs, tape-slathered gifts were piling up.
Pentatonix had been belting out their harmonizing Christmas tunes from our computer speakers for many days. The setting was set. The days were being counted down. I had even braved Costco for edible supplies and made it out of there relatively unscathed. There was only one incident that got a little crazy and that was when my shopping cart was pulled up short by a woman LOUDLY expressing her RAGE at the fact that two elderly shoppers were greeting each other with a hug.
"The NERVE!" she seethed and hissed and real, live smoke smoldered from her ears, "blocking up the aisles like that!" Because, you know, there's genocide and then there's blocking-the-freaking-aisles-in-Costco. They're on the same plane for some people, I tell ya!
The elderly couple drew apart when they heard the scornful remarks slicing their way. I tried not to make eye contact with the Angry Woman and frantically began humming "Joy to the World" under my breath. Thank goodness for all involved that the aisles were finally unclogged and everyone could continue consuming. Whew! We almost died!
But back to my house: we were all ready for Christmas to come.
And then.....I was out one night and Paul texted me. He wasn't feeling well.
I wasn't sure how to interpret that. Was Paul talking the Man-Cold? Because then I should be speed dialing the Emergency and maybe contacting all our family. Or was he talking about something a little more sinister?
Sinister, it was!
The next day, I woke up with a scratchy throat and a headache. I cancelled the coffee date I had made with a friend and then laid down on the couch.
"Imma just gonna lay here for a minute," I literally slurred and then fell asleep. It felt a little more like passing out. I wasn't even sprawled out in a comfortable position but it was like my body could not stay awake. On the other end of the couch was Paul. The sinister sickness had taken him out as well. When I awoke next, the pounding in my head had amped up, like, a lot!
"Moan moan," I moaned in pain and then noticed through pain-slitted eyes that there were bodies lying everywhere. Lochlan was curled in a ball in front of the patio doors. Paul was nestled under a hand-knit blanket on the couch. Gwen was dozing at my feet and Donovan had one arm slung around the dog's neck while he slumbered on the soft pet-bed beside him. Only Liam seemed okay.
"Oh, hey, mom," he whispered when he noticed I was awake, "I'm kinda bored....." he trailed off and cast a hopeful gaze towards the giant tv screen on our wall.
"You can watch tv...." I murmured waving a hand weakly at him before succumbing to sleep once again.
The next time I awoke, my back ached so I crawled off the couch and slunk to the floor. And passed out again with a dull roar of pain radiating about my head. I felt bodies nestle up next to me and the next time I woke up, Gwen and Donovan were curled up against me, Paul was still on the couch, Lochlan was next to him and Liam was watching cartoon creatures cracking jokes on tv.
"Uuuuuugggg," I moaned clutching my head.
This pattern continued for the rest of the day.
At least we are together, I thought.
At least no one is barfing, I reflected.
At least we have a whole day to get better before the Christmas festivities begin, I mused.
That evening we all felt a little better and our family of six split a banana for dinner.
Sweet deal! I silently celebrated, we could totally save big bucks if we continue eating like this!
But when the sun came up the next day, we were not much improved. It was December 24 and that night we were to celebrate with family.
Gwen was feeling a bit better and she was excited about going out and hanging with her cousins.
Liam was still healthy as a horse and ready to go.
The rest of us gathered weakly together on the couch and......fell asleep.
Hours passed in a feverish haze.
We dozed and slumbered and drowsed.
We nibbled on another banana.
I began to feel nauseous and crawled over to the bathroom. I leaned my head on the toilet seat and bemoaned the fact that I share this house with four males.
"Oooooooh....gross...someone get me lysol wipes...." I moaned and dry-heaved several times for dramatic effect. I fell asleep for several hours leaning up against that porcelain seat.
It was soon time to leave but most of us were too sick to even consider vacating the couch cushions.
We made some phone calls to family and we decided to reschedule our actual Christmas events.
Paul and I sank back relieved. He handed me some advil. I passed around children's tylenol. We nibbled another banana.
"Wait!" Gwen yelled out and we all clutched our throbbing heads in pain, "You mean, we aren't going tonight....?" The realization had just dawned on her.
"No, honey," I responded feebly, "we're all too sick..."
Gwen's eyes widened and filled with tears. "NO!" she howled and stomped to her room to mourn alone.
"Oh, man...we just told her Christmas is cancelled," I whispered to Paul. Both of us fell back, too weak to comfort our baby girl.
This kinda sucks, I thought.
I've never been sick on Christmas before, I ruminated, not even last year when I was just finishing chemotherapy. Even then, I had been healthy enough to celebrate with loved ones.
But this year, it looked like we were all in for a special sort of ick.
And then my sister called.
Like the sister-hero she is.
She asked how she could help.
She suggested picking up the healthy kids and taking them to festivities.
She said she could drive them. She said they could sleep over at her house. She said it was no problem. I'm certain her cape was fluttering in a breeze while she made all these promises to me over the phone.
She completely and totally saved the day.
Gwen and Liam packed up their clothes and made a swift retreat from this plague-plastered-house-of-grossness.
Paul and I were relieved because when you are battling fever, raging headache and sleepy stupor, you are in no shape or form to be entertaining the masses. Us four remaining sickies hunkered down, passed around some medicine and plumped our pillows.
"Merry Christmas," someone muttered, "pass the bananas..."
