Written @ 11:40 a.m. on 2007-12-26
Merry Christmas
Today is my favorite day. The day after Christmas, when we are home again, surrounded by new toys and pretty things to put away. No travel today. No relatives. Just candy canes and following directions for assembly. You know me, I LOVE to build things! I am happy, and wearing my santa hat.
Christmas 2007 at my parent's house will be remembered for a front yard football game. My mother gave the girls and my father all headlamps, the kind that a miner might strap to their heads. She also gave my father a professional football, because he said that he had been missing his since some kids from Philadelphia that he was supposed to be mentoring lost his. In 1968. My parent's town was covered in about one foot of snow, followed by a thick, icy crust. After dark on Christmas eve, when other families are drinking hot toddies and singing christmas carols around the fire, we noisily attack the neighborhood. Bundled until we could be bundled no more, my father, the girls, and I headed out for the first (and probably last) annual Dark Football With Headlamps In The Front Yard Extravaganza!!! Ponies Vs. Eagles.
I don't know how to play football, with like, rules and stuff, but I do know how to throw and catch and pass and run around in circles in the snowy dark. Which I did quite well, I think. Mind you, if anyone looks at you with the headlamp on, you are totally blinded. Did I mention the crust? Very crusty.
My father threw me the ball, and told me to try and run by him for a touchdown in the neighbor's driveway "end zone". I faked around one tree, then scooted in the opposite direction, my dad hot on my trial, until suddenly, he pierced the night air with a howl of agony. Hamstring. Game over.
I think that means I win.
Pretty sure he'll be ok, and it certainly makes for a good story.
There was a tension in my parent's house that gave me an unchristmasy feeling. It might have been PTSD. I was feeling hypervigilant over every little move my parents made. They don't exactly "talk" to one another, or stay even in the same room for very long, but when I mentioned to my mom the possible unhealthiness of the situation, she told me I was being over-dramatic. Which, I admit, happens. We did have lovely ham, and received lovely presents. The girls went crazy over the stupid babydoll from china that comes with 37 plastic parts. They were happy. I got mostly checks from my family, which only reminded me of my inability to take care of myself, and made me feel a little bad.
On Christmas day, we headed over to B's parents house, where I instantly felt at home. They warmed me up with alcohol, and then bestowed us with ten years worth of wonderful, thoughtful, generous gifts. Like, noticing that I needed new kitchen knives. Noticing that I have started going to the gym and getting me a cute workout outfit. In the right size. That I like and will wear. The girls got sleds, doll clothes, and all sorts of fun things, and I felt so loved by people who had no need to be so nice. Just because. That was awesome, to feel so part of their family.
I was very happy to see B after a few days away from home. The aquarium was a big hit, and I think he really liked the cowboy shirt and scrapbook that I made for him. I love him so much. Ok, I know I'm gushing. I JUST LOVE HIM SO MUCH!
Merry Christmas, everybody! xoxox, Hil