Christmas. A white Christmas. In America.
It’s one of those things every dreams off.
Unfortunately our Christmas was marred by illness, and was a disaster in the making. 2 days before Christmas one of Jen’s family members got some bad health news, that had half the family galavanting into the next state to a hospital, and me left with 3 kids for 24 hours, wanting to know if their mom would be back for Christmas.
But it all turned out ok, and the aforementioned family member was released for Christmas. Let me just say, however, that I will be happy if I never have to wrap another Christmas present again… at least not for another 11 months or so!
On Christmas Eve I went with Jen’s dad and brothers (and the kids, of course) to Catholic Mass, which was quite the show! The funniest moment was when the Priest (is that what they call them?) was waving around his communion cup, and Christian (4) yells out “WHY DOES HE GET THE TROPHY?” at the top of his lungs. Amusing, that’s for sure.
Christmas morning I was woken by a shrill shriek from a small person, and then was summoned to watch the craziness unravel. There was wrapping paper everywhere, and when finished, our once clean house looked like a bomb went off. And this was repeated again when the kids grandparents came over to open another round of presents.
The afternoon was a little quieter. We headed into Jen’s dad’s place (where the kids quick learnt that there would be more presents to open) and opened a few presents, and sat down to a yummy roast beef that Jen’s dad had cooked for us. It was GOOD, but felt strange to not be eating the normal Australian Christmas fare.
After dinner we went out and played on the new sleds (being big blowup ones) that the kids were given for Christmas, and the snow was perfect, as it had been a few days since the last snowfall so it had become a little icy, perfect for sledding.
A white Christmas is a strange thing. I had visions of us all frolicking around in the snow, having snowball fights and sipping hot chocolates. Instead, what I learnt, is that -18C is bloody cold weather to be trying to charge 4-wheeler batteries in at 9pm on Christmas Eve, and even colder when you are riding those 4-wheelers up and down the local streets without proper gear (read: you NEED to wear ski goggles and some sort of balaclava when riding a 4-wheeler in -15C weather, otherwise your face becomes numb, your eyes start to water, and then your eyeballs start to freeze… no jokes!) But it can also be amazing fun to speed down an icy hill with a 2 year old on your lap in the dark of Christmas night.
Merry (late) Christmas. I hope Santa was good to you all. He obviously didn’t get the memo that I was Christmasing in New York, but thankfully Jen and her mom were generous enough to get me a voucher to my favourite hair salon in Sydney (which I desperately need!)