My 12 Days of Christmas

We survived the Christmas season. Barely. 'Tis the season to be jolly and merry. Or, if you have "luck", 'tis the season to be cursed and frazzled. Day 1 - Car accident. No injuries, just a guy who cannot drive nor admit fault. Had a police officer mock my car antlers and Rudolph nose. But, the other driver was cited so all's well that ends well. Day 2 - Get rental car lodged up on a snowbank. Husband, all dressed for work, was helpful but not amused. Day 3 - House alarm and visit from police. Day 4 - A badly cut finger. Day 5 - Another badly cut finger. Day 6 - Snowed in for 4 days - inmates were running the asylum. Day 7 - Another badly injured finger. Day 8 - A fun 45 minutes with a plunger. Day 9 - One very startled grandfather meets a flying Nerf pellet. Day 10 - A broken shower faucet and a flooded bathroom. Day 11 - Christian meets the Dean and Santa. And gives both a piece of his mind. No holds barred. Day 12 - Fighting, boredom, tears, dishes and laundry. Decorating cookies, wrapping presents, addressing Christmas cards, attending office parties were some of the highlights of the season. Attending a family office party involves dressing the kids up in suitable clothing (and buying suitable clothing). It also means I have to explain to my 5 year old son how he will and will NOT behave, including a list of approved and NOT approved topics to discuss while meeting Daddy's boss. Explaining to the kids that they cannot have a live dog or an overpriced robotic dog was another fun holiday memory. The Christmas holiday was busy and fun. We sprinkled reindeer food on the lawn and explained to Christian that we did not expect him to clean up any reindeer poop. Where does he come up with this stuff?? We laid out cookies, carrots and milk. Again, explaining to Christian that he could NOT eat Santa's cookies. No matter how hungry he is. Sara left long notes justifying her past behavior and making outlandish promises to be saintly and angelic in 2014. And she also asked for Santa's autograph. Christmas morning we watched Christian open his presents with the enthusiasm of a rabid dog going after a bone. We just made sure to keep our fingers and toes away from him. After Christmas, we spent the day in Chicago with some friends. Christian spent the day terrified he was going to be eaten by a dinosaur skeleton. Who knew taking a little boy to a museum full of mummies and dinosaur bones would be so traumatizing?