Tuesday, December 25, 2007

The Worst Christmas Eve Ever

First Son got sick in the car, on the way to a Christmas Eve service. We had to change him when we got there, but he didn't want to leave because it was all too intriguing, so we huddled in the pew, praying he didn't get sick again and didn't pass on the illness.

At the end of the service, as we were discussing how to get First Son home (given the sad state of the car seat in our car), First Daughter set off on an adventure. Alone. It took a number of volunteers and at least five minutes to track her down. (It felt like at least thirty minutes to me, but I'm sure it wasn't that long.) She had walked out of the sanctuary, through a set of open double doors, into a room full of adults she didn't know and calmly helped herself to a bottle of soda. One of them finally recognized her as the missing baby and carried her back to us. She never cried, but I did once we found her (sobbing onto poor First Son's shoulder who was still sick enough to miss the drama of the situation).

We buckled First Son into Grammy's car and he promptly threw up again. They drove him to their house while we took First Daughter and made a side trip to our house for some medicine for his fever. Apparently, he was sick a number of times on the way home. First Daughter, meanwhile, who had not cried at all during her adventure, started crying as soon as we buckled her in and cried all the way home, a good thirty minutes. She cried while we sat in the car waiting for Kansas Dad to gather a few things. She cried so hard she threw up. Kansas Dad had to clean up another mess before we could drive to his parent's house.

First Son was feeling a little better, but still sick. He watched a video while the rest of us ate dinner. We finished after 8 pm and finally got the kids to bed around 9:30 pm. Then Kansas Dad and his parents took all the car seats apart and put the covers through the wash.

We missed mass. We left the kids for just a few minutes to go back to our house for our luggage. First Daughter was already awake when we returned. I spent the night holding her on the sofa so she could sleep upright. Neither of us slept very well. (Kansas Dad tried to sleep upstairs because we have a long drive in the morning, but he was still awakened by her cries pretty often.) At 6:45 am, I decided it had been long enough and deposited her in Kansas Dad's lap with a pathetic "Merry Christmas" and collapsed in bed for an hour.

In the morning, we discovered one of the kids had thrown up a little on the carpet. We don't even know which one. At least First Son woke up refreshed, "I'm feeling better, Mama!"

1 comment:

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