25 Days of Christmas: Day 2, Settling in For a Long Winter’s Night

It’s Christmas Eve and we all know what that means; a visit from the Big Guy! My household is awash in anticipation of his arrival and preparations for welcoming him are underway; the debate over which cookies Santa might prefer on his plate tonight chief among them.

For the record, I vote chocolate chip while the children are split between frosted sugar cookies and gingerbread.

And, yes, this debate is serious because, one of my children still believes in Santa (hint; it’s not The Teenager). Yes, at the somewhat advanced age of twelve, the Man-Cub still believes in the Big Guy. And, while I’m relatively certain that he has his share of doubts, he has done a remarkable job of setting them aside in favor of clinging to the notion of magic flying reindeer, industrious toy-making elves and Santa’s ability to squeeze his rather large girth down really narrow chimneys.

I am so grateful for his continuing belief in the special magic of this season for a number of reasons, the very least of which is; it makes my own belief in Santa seem somewhat less absurd.

Why, yes, Virginia; I do believe in Santa. It is a belief that I will take with me to my grave, a belief that I think makes me a kinder person, one far less likely to become a bitter old woman somewhere down the road. It is a belief that fuels my desire to create as many warm and wonderful memories as I possibly can for my children who will, ideally, go on to create warm and wonderful holiday memories for their own children, ensuring that future generations also believe in the generous and kind nature of a being who asks nothing from children save for the promise that they be nice.

I believe in Santa. Not the man in the red suit, exactly but, in the principals that Santa best exemplifies; that kindness begets kindness. Generosity begets generosity. And that one person can make a world of difference in the life of another person.

I believe.

I also really like chocolate chip cookies but, that is neither here nor there.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 3, the Day Before the DAY BEFORE

As of 2:25 yesterday, the kids were officially on vacation from school. Actually, since she had finished her finals and was not interested in watching movies and helping the teachers clean their classrooms, The Teenager opted not to attend school yesterday at all so, technically; she’s been on vacation since 3:30, Tuesday. In contrast, the Man-Cub was more than happy to attend school because his class was going to the theater in town to see the new Narnia movie. Also, he thinks cleaning classrooms is suh-weet!

For the record, kids on vacation are quite similar to mental patients granted a three-day leave. The only exception being that, following two weeks of this, I will be the one who needs to be committed. This sucks on a variety of levels, not the very least of which being the fact that I cannot weave a basket to save my life. On the other hand, I hear those straightjackets are actually somewhat comfortable.

And we are moving on.

Last night, after celebrating Hugh’s birthday at one of our favorite restaurants, we hit the Hellmouth for some unplanned browsing and the purchase of stupid things that we didn’t really need (tis the season!). One item that Hugh deemed of absolute necessity was a gingerbread house kit, this despite the fact that The Teenager wailed and gnashed her teeth and declared herself too old to decorate a gingerbread house while rending her garments in a most dramatic fashion.

Gingerbread house-a-palooza is scheduled for tomorrow night despite The Teenager’s protests.

In Gilligan news, we continue to see signs of improvement although we have accepted the fact that he will never recover completely and will always require some degree of special care. Now, ask us if we care about the additional effort involved in keeping him healthy and well. We do not; we are quite willing to go the distance.

Speaking of going the distance, my parents are scheduled to arrive either today or tomorrow, depending on the weather. My older sister and her family will arrive tomorrow as well. And, then, CHRISTMAS!

I’m so excited, I can hardly stand myself. Soon, the anticipation will drive me to climb the walls, giggle spontaneously, squeal like a child and run in place, Flintstones-style.

I’m going to fit right in with my kids, is what I’m saying.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 4, Just Because I Say I’m Ready Doesn’t Mean That I Am

Presents purchased and wrapped, check.

Goodies baked and ready to make their debut on the silver tray purchased especially for that purpose, check.

Turkey thawing in the fridge, check.

Groceries purchased and stored, check.

On the surface, it appears that I am prepared for Santa’s arrival. At the very least I am prepared for the arrival of my parents, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew but; I cannot shake the nagging thought that I have forgotten something.

I guess I’ll figure it out, eventually. Probably at 10:01 p.m. on Christmas Eve.

Too bad the stores close at 10:00 sharp.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 5, ‘Tis the Season for Raging Migraine Headaches

Gilligan continues to improve, allowing the family to relax in our diligence. Unfortunately, for me, relaxation following a period of extreme stress almost inevitably leads to a migraine and, this experience has been no different.

Immediately upon returning home following yesterday’s visit to the vet, I was hit with a double migraine, something that I have not experienced since I was pregnant with the Man-Cub. Fortunately, I had my faithful Imitrex inhalers on hand and, that combined with a bottle of diet Pepsi and four Excedrin Migraine caplets managed to put me into a deep enough sleep to ward off the nausea that usually accompanies the headache.

Today, I am still feeling the effects of the headache as well as that of the medication; drowsiness, dull throbbing in the temples, weakness and tension in the back of my neck and a feeling of loopiness; not to be confused with my general state of loopiness, in case you were wondering.

Loopiness or not, I must forge ahead with the chores that I have left to accomplish before Christmas, including cleaning my house from top to bottom, wrapping the last of the presents, making the last three batches of fudge (mint chocolate, butterscotch and chocolate peanut butter), baking three loaves of pumpkin bread as well as a few loaves of banana bread to replace what Gilligan has eaten (thank you lord jeebus!) and, I need to wrap Hugh’s birthday present before tomorrow for, tomorrow is his birthday.

It seems overwhelming, to be sure but I am relatively confident that I can manage it all. Or, I will chuck the list out the window and spend the evening cuddling with Gilligan on the couch while we watch a movie marathon featuring It’s a Wonderful Life, Jingle All the Way, The Grinch and Dickens’s Christmas Carol.

It could go either way, see above: LOOPINESS.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 6, Miracle on Sixth Street

Friday morning, I called the vet’s office to see if they could get Gilligan in for an appointment, he was still having litter box issues and had stopped eating. The vet was out of the office and an appointment was made for Monday at 10:30.

By 3:00 that afternoon, Gilligan was in complete distress, stumbling as he attempted to walk, incontinent and obviously failing. Hugh called the vet on her personal cell phone and she told him that she was just getting back into town following a week in New Mexico with her son. She instructed Hugh to race Gilly in and, Hugh, The Teenager and the Man-Cub bundled him in warm towels and made the drive into town.

At that moment, I was relaxing on the massage table, about to begin a much needed rub down. Needless to say, the appointment was rescheduled, clothing was hastily thrown on and I met my teary-eyed husband and offspring at the vet’s office.

Gilly was…not good. The doctor diagnosed an extreme kidney and urinary tract infection and gently informed us that our fluffy furball was in acute renal failure. She showed Hugh how to administer subcutaneous liquids via an IV port in Gilly’s neck, prescribed a round of major antibiotics and told us to prepare ourselves for the worst. If Gilly made it through the weekend, she would see us at the previously-made appointment on Monday. She was…not hopeful.

That night, Gilly collapsed under the Christmas tree, unable to walk, unable to control his bladder, unable to eat and scarcely breathing. We took turns stroking his silky fur and whispering our most tender goodbyes.

When he made it through Friday night, we were grateful although, not optimistic. There was no improvement and, if possible, he was even weaker than the previous day. Hugh valiantly administered the subcutaneous fluids three or four times a day, sleeping next to Gilly on the floor, since he seemed to prefer being under the tree and we wanted him to be as peaceful as possible.

At one point Saturday night, Hugh settled Gilligan onto his chest as they reclined on the couch, a position that has always been a favorite of theirs and, in what we recognized as the ultimate gift to us, Gilly mustered up a low purr. It was the first time he had purred in a week and it was both the sweetest-and saddest-sound that I have ever heard. I sent the kids to their beds, convinced that Gilly would take his leave of us sometime during that night.

He didn’t.

And, while we didn’t see any improvement, we had to give him credit for fighting so hard.

Late last night (Sunday), I sat down on the couch next to Gilligan; we had bundled him in warm towels and were basically trying to keep him comfortable, having accepted the fact that there was very little else that we could do. I happened to have a plate of banana bread with me and Gilly’s head popped up at the scent of his favorite forbidden treat (since he was a kitten, he would jump up on the countertop to get at banana bread, often going so far as to chew through aluminum foil to obtain his prize). It was the first interest that he had shown in food since Thursday and you can be sure that I was not about to deny him. He ate almost as entire slice from the palm of my hand; I cried the entire time.

This morning, as Hugh lay sleeping beside him, Gilligan got up, stumbled over the train that encircles the Christmas tree and tried to drag himself to his litter box. The motion awakened Hugh, who put him in the box where, for the first time in over a week, he peed appropriately. Then, he took a few bites of kibble from Hugh’s hand, lapped at his water dish and then curled up for a nap, thoroughly exhausted by his efforts. For the first time in three days, Hugh and I breathed a little easier.

At 10:30, we made that vet appointment.

As I type this, Gilligan is laying next to me on the couch. He is able to walk short distances, has used his litter box, is taking food by the mouth, has started to put up a fuss when Hugh administers his IV and has become quite vocal about the injustice visited upon him by being bathed in a warm bathtub.

I have no idea what tomorrow will hold for him but, today, he is gaining strength and we are starting to see more of the old Gilligan. We will continue to treat him with IV fluids, antibiotics, rest, prayer and banana bread and, with God’s grace, will celebrate our seventeenth Christmas with him on Saturday.

None of us could imagine a more precious gift nor can we deny that we have been blessed witha small miracle right here on Earth.

God is good.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 9, Where Are You Christmas? As Sung by Cindy Lou Who

Still no snow here in Petticoat Junction. In fact, the temperature hasn’t dipped much below 45 degrees all month. I have yet to break out my pretty winter coats, I haven’t worn a hat once and I couldn’t even begin to tell you where my gloves are. Ok that is a lie; the obsessive organizer in me will tell you that my entire collection of gloves (of which there are many) is safely tucked away in the canvas bin marked with my name in the closet in the guestroom, top shelf, right next to the canvas bins conveniently marked with the names of each of my family members. This need for the organization of winter appropriate gear being, perhaps, my only illness.

Well, one of them, anyway and, as is often the case with me; I digress.

Where was I? Right, bemoaning the lack of holiday-appropriate weather.

So, tonight Petticoat Junction is hosting its’ annual Parade of Lights, an event that usually adds to my enjoyment of the season. This year, I am so not feeling the Christmas Spirit at all and I’m not convinced that standing on Main Street in a hoodie while watching festively decorated floats (trucks pulling trailers adorned with a single strand of lights and a few kids in reindeer antlers) will do much to increase that spirit in me.

Maybe tomorrow’s final assault on the mall will help but, I’m not counting on it; at this point I would almost welcome a visit by three spirits sometime during the night. Maybe they could flip my Spirit Switch.

Or, it could snow a little** and all would be right with my world.

**And, by a little, you know I mean in huge amounts but, only on the sides of the road so as to not cause my family members undue stress in reaching my house next week. Now really, is that so much to ask for?

25 Days of Christmas: Day 11, The Demented Have No Business Decorating Cookies

Last night’s cookie-decorating extravaganza went smashingly well; the project took two hours, a double recipe of frosting, a viewing of the entire DVD of National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and the patience of a host of heavenly angels. We worked side-by side as a family but, in the end, it was our individual decorating styles that resulted in the most eclectic collection of cookies produced in our kitchen to date.

For instance, I toiled over each cookie, attempting a work of art with each new design. The Teenager, on the other hand, decorated her cookies in an assembly-line fashion, finishing in record time, with near-identical results.

The Man-Cub created the most, um…unique cookies which actually comes as no surprise given his penchant for using as many edible decorative items as possible per cookie and, you know, the fact that he is color blind.

Hugh’s cookies warrant a discussion all their own most notably for the fact that he crafted such interesting items as:

-A group of three snowmen upon which something had peed, seriously; yellow spots in the otherwise pure white snow. Oh, and one of them was wearing a fig leaf over his private parts. For the record? I didn’t know snowmen had private parts, either.

-The Liberty Bell. No cheesy silver Christmas bells for him; history is alive and well as residing in our cookie tin.

-Officer Santa Claus, otherwise known as Santa in a policeman’s uniform, complete with silver badge and holstered gun which, will come in handy should the elves become unruly and stage a coup of Santa's workshop.

-A red and green striped reindeer.

In the end, we had a good time and, I can check one more chore off my holiday To Do list. Two items, actually, since we will be using many of the cookies to fill gift baskets for friends and neighbors.

With the obvious exception of the peed-on snowmen. I mean, really.