Anyway, on to happier things. Christmas was, as usual, a blast. We managed to get a full-sized tree up and decorated this year. I resisted last year because I thought my wild, crazy cat Fernando would ruin it, and I was nervous that theory would hold up again this year. But he did surprisingly well--he actually liked having a tree indoors. He spent lots of nap time underneath, and almost as much time trying to drink the water out of the tree stand.
Because I switched jobs, I had no vacation time during the holidays. Mark still had two full weeks off, so I sent him off to San Diego to spend the first week with all his cousins. He missed me terribly while he was gone, texting and phoning me constantly.
OK, just kidding, he didn't even notice I wasn't there. I called and spoke to everyone in the house BUT Mark, and likewise received texts from everyone but him. When I got there Christmas Eve, I was greeted with huge hugs, though--again, from every kid but mine. (Gotta say, those nieces and nephews do make you feel loved and welcome!)
In our house, it's not Christmas until the house is overflowing, so we invited the neighbors and their kids over for dinner. It was a loud, fun dinner, with the kids and dogs in the kitchen, and the adults in the dining room. I'm pretty sure our laughter drowned out the children's.
Christmas morning was a bit...underwhelming. Not present-wise, but because most of the kids are teenagers now. They used to wake up at the crack of dawn, yelling and screaming excitedly, trying to shake the presents under the tree without any adults noticing. But this year, Tim and Kim brought their new dog, Phoebe, who is actually Fernando in a dog costume. She's two years old, a playful, rambunctious puppy disguised as a full-sized dog. Upon arrival, Phoebe walked in and immediately marked her territory on the Christmas tree.
Poor little Grant was the only one still excited about Santa anyway, and he had to go off to a hotel with his parents. Which probably worked out for the best, because Santa arrived at my parents' late in the morning, so we could keep an eye on Phoebe and keep the presents dry.
The kids were all excited about their gifts--electronics topped the lists this year. Poor Mark was bummed that he didn't get anything to plug in, but he was sweet enough to pretend he wasn't. (And please...it's not like the kid got nothing..or a lump of coal!)
But not all the kids were paying such close attention to the gifts they were opening. My nephew Nicholas proudly showed off a rubber ducky tea infuser, which I told him was really for Aunt Mari.
"Did you really think I'd give you that?" I asked, taking the duck away.
"Well, I like rubber duckies," he said, shrugging. "And I like tea, so..."
"It's for Aunt Mari!" I told him, handing it to Mari.
Ten minutes later, he opened another gift.
"Uh...thanks, Auntie Heather?" he asked, turning the gift around in his hands to examine it. "It's really--"
"It's for Grandma," I said, swiping the gift away. "Did you really think I'd give you ceramic measuring bowls for Christmas?"
I had to give him credit for being polite, though--he was certainly polite and thankful for whatever he thought he got.
The kids were quietly playing with their new stuff a while later, and I stopped to check in on them.
"Do you get some good stuff, Marky?" I asked, using my son's pet name.
"Yep!" he answered.
My sis-in-law Kim was sitting there, and asked if Mark minded being called "Marky."
"No," he shrugged. "It's fine."
And then Kim made a fatal mistake--she opened up and made herself vulnerable. (She's been a Dinsdale long enough to know NEVER, EVER expose a weakness to this pack of wild dogs--because they will immediately seize on it and never let go!)
"I always hated being called 'Kimmy' when I was a kid," she said. And that was all it took...
"Really, Aunt Kimmy?" Mark asked.
"Kimmy, seriously...you hated that?" said Nicholas.
"Aunt Kimmy!" Grant cheered happily. (He couldn't think of a good put-down, but he wanted to join in.)
"Kimmy, time for breakfast!" Tim called. And boy, oh boy, did I feel bad, because I saw a whole week of "Kimmy" ahead.
We put the gifts away long enough to feast on two wonderful meals--my mom really outdid herself this year. We all wanted to be together this day, so we squished everybody in, packing all 13 of us into the tiny dining room. The food was fantastic, and the laughter around the table was even better.
Hannah and Nic wanted to try out their new surfboards after lunch, so they headed off to the beach. To my delight, they took Mark, too. He'd been a little pill that day, eating massive amounts of sugar and not giving himself nearly enough insulin to compensate. He even tried running out the door without his meter (which has glucose tabs attached), which meant he had no backup sugar in case he went low.
I handed him the meter, but on a whim, pulled it back and popped open the container where there should have been glucose tabs. It was empty. I growled at Mark, pointed toward the kitchen and strongly suggested he refill it before I strangled him. He snorted, rolled his eyes but refilled it before Uncle Tim left without him. (Uncle Tim waits for no one.)
They were all gone for a blissfully quiet couple of hours. When they returned, Gabi found me--she couldn't wait to tell me about their afternoon. (She and Mark drive each other crazy, and love to tattle on each other.)
"Mark went low," she said, smiling broadly.
"He did?" I asked.
"Yup," she said. "My mom was really mad."
"Why?" I asked. That didn't seem like Mari at all.
"Because he didn't bring any snacks with him," she said. "He was really hungry."
I smacked my forehead. "So, what happened?" I asked.
"My mom took us over to the Hotel Del," Gabi explained. "She bought Mark Rice Krispies and milk, and she bought me a chocolate croissant." A big smile lit up her face.
I gasped--Mark LOVES chocolate croissants. "Was he so mad?" I asked.
"My mom was MAD!" she said. "She picked the most boring thing she could for Mark, and he had to watch us eating chocolate croissants."
Usually I wouldn't laugh at my kid being tortured, but I couldn't help myself. He'd been giving me hell all week and ignoring his diabetes--not only was this a hilarious punishment, it was also very fitting.
"I can't believe Aunt Mari did that," I said. She is Mark's favorite person, because of her sweet, gentle nature. But even Aunt Mari doesn't mess around when it comes to diabetes!
"She didn't want to ruin your Christmas day," Gabi explained. Little did she know, Mari actually MADE my Christmas with that story!
As the day rolled on, we had just one final commitment--to see our friends, the Fera-Schanes'. We LOVE them, and traditionally spend Christmas evening visiting at our house. But this year, we went to their house to see their newest family member--a two-month-old golden retriever puppy named Atticus. (He looked like a baby Phoebe!)
Atticus (who's name is twice as big as he is!) was a doll! Seriously, he was like a giant stuffed animal come to life, so soft and silly. He'd recently learned to run, which was more like an unsteady gallop/bounce, and he was thrilled to show us how he could attack (and eat) every stick in the yard.
The kids LOVED him, descending on him like he was the best toy ever made. They overwhelmed the little guy, but he loved it. He was seemingly punch-drunk from all their energy--at one point, I told them to all stop running and stand still. Atticus literally bounced into them, then the wall, then a nearby lounge chair. He was so overstimulated he couldn't stand still. It was hilarious.
I finally had to drag the hyper children away to give the baby dog time to rest and recover. We bid adieu to my favorite family, and headed home. Nicholas, however, was still wound up from all the puppy time, and wouldn't sit still in the car. I knew everyone else would be quiet and calm when we got home, so I stopped at the top of the hill a half mile from home.
"Out," I said, popping open the door.
The kids looked at me, confused.
"Nicholas, out!" I repeated. "Go run off some of that energy."
"OK!" he shouted, climbing over the seats. Mark shrugged and jumped out with him, then Nathalie followed as well. Gabi climbed out, too, which confused me, because she hates running, or any type of exercise, for that matter. But then she jumped into the front seat, slammed the door and yelled, "GO!" at me.
"HURRY!" she screamed. "We must beat them home!" That sounded more like her. :-)
And beat them we did, but just barely. They raced inside, where they were immediately shushed. I just smiled, happy, content, with a warm Christmas and new puppy buzz. It was loud, and homey, and wonderful to be surrounded by my family, and there was no where else on Earth I'd rather be than there, in that moment.
And really, what better way to end Christmas than that?
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