Eye of the storm

The big rush is over, and I am pooped. I got all the presents finished, all wrapped, the food that had to be cooked ahead of time done, and the major rooms in the house clean. The study is still a wreck, but I can deal with that later and just keep the door closed until then. We got the bunk beds assembled and were done with all Christmas preparations by about midnight—we’ve done worse, so I guess I should be proud of us, particularly since I was making all those *&%$ presents this year instead of buying them.

The kids loved their bunk beds and various other presents. We had the beds set up in the living room with all the Santa presents on top, and then we moved them back to their bedroom after brunch. Matt and Shari came to eat with us and see the kids’ toys, so Matt helped Chris move the beds back. There may have been some reassembly required, but I was working on starting the turkey, and I couldn’t see what was going on. I really don’t want to know anyhow as long as they’re in the room now. There’s this unfortunate thing with a ceiling fan going on right now, but I’ve turned the power off at the fan itself so I think everybody should survive. The room is a wreck—you can’t believe all the stuff that was under Laura’s bed, but everybody’s all snuggled down in their new little nests finally, and we’ll worry about rearranging the furniture later. I had put their sheets on the bed last night, but they were new flannel sheets and really stinky—nothing like the smell of chemically (I guess?) treated flannel stored in plastic wrap—so when we moved the beds, I washed the sheets. By the time they were dry Will was dizzy, he was so sleepy, but he wouldn’t nap anywhere but in his new big boy bed with his brand new pillow. While I was putting the sheets back on after they were finally dry, he was standing next to me literally sobbing for “my brand new pillow.” And let me tell you, ladders do not make for an easy bed making process. I suppose it’s just as well we rarely make up beds around here.

The turkey’s due out of the oven soon and it’ll be time for me to start the stuffing, so while everybody else in the house is napping, I’m writing a little and waiting to cook again. And I’m the birthday girl, mind you. Chris says next year we should get catered Christmas food. Maybe I should just try to start earlier next year. Of course, I’ve never said that before.