It's Not Christmas Unless Someone is Throwing Up

I have countless pictures like this.

A Christmas tree, my favorite ceramic Santa, a room full of merry and cheer, and a kid and a bowl.

It's not Christmas around here unless someone is throwing up.
It has been going on for years.
At first it was annoying, but now it's just become expected.
It's almost comical.
Almost.


Last year I thought we'd escaped.
Everyone but me was sick in the week leading up to Christmas.
Aaron was so sick with strep throat that he was literally in bed for 4 days.
But he he started feeling better on the 23rd.
And after Christmas day had passed with no throw up, I thought the curse had been broken.
Until the next day when William said, "I don't feel good," and threw up all his breakfast cereal all over my in-law's couch.
I don't think there is any escape.

That's why I wasn't surprised last night when William came out of the bedroom at midnight.
"What's wrong?" I asked him.
"Nothing.  I have to go to the bathroom."
And then, as he sat on the toilet with obvious, and intense, bowel issues he said, "and I accidentally threw up in James' bed."
Of course.


So today I won't be making presents or baking cookies for the neighbors with the kids.
I'll be washing laundry and the throw up bowl.
I'll be stroking my son's head and hoping for a shower.
I'll be praying the rest of the family escapes the curse, but I won't be surprised if they don't.
I'll be celebrating the Christmas season with our least favorite tradition.
But it's OK.  
I'm getting used to it.
Happy Christmas friends!


Love from,
Greta


PS. In honor of Christmas and my inability to post as of late, I'll be offering up some of my favorite recipes for Christmas morning, Christmas baking, and Christmas get togethers over at Picnics in the Park. None of it will be new content because I can't really manage that in between barf bowl cleanings, but you might get some good ideas from some old posts.  Go take a look.  Thanks!