We survived, which is about all that could be expected.  The kids on the other hand stayed blissfully unaware (I think) of the tension and weirdness, and spent a lot of time screaming Santa’s name, gorging on sugar, running through the house and driving everyone nuts with the strange grunting noises their new Zhu Zhu Pets make.  Thanks a lot, Santa! 

Despite there being only 4 adults and 2 very small children, my mother made enough food to feed the entire neighborhood.  She can’t help it.  After years of cooking for large groups of family and friends, she doesn’t know any other way.  Mike got me a Kindle, which simultaneously thrilled me and made me feel horribly guilty.  We weren’t supposed to be exchanging gifts.  I kept up my end of the bargain; he ignored his.  I did get the customary lump of coal in my stocking (and seriously, there is no double entendre there), but this year I probably deserved it. 

Mike and the girls spent about equal time with his family and mine.  They loved being with their cousins ad they loved the attention they got from my parents.  The family spoiled them rotten which was good because we cut way back on gifts this year.  Santa also seemed to be on a budget, that jolly old cheapskate. Lily only complained once about not receiving the Nintendo DS-I she requested while on the lap of Short Pump Santa; I suggested that girls under age 8 weren’t allowed those because Santa thought they were too young. She blew my carefully crafted scenario out of the water by stating, “Mom, half the girls in my class have them and most got them for Christmas LAST year, which would mean they were only 6.”  Duh, Mom!  Idiot. 

Unfortunately right after Christmas Mike got some bad news which isn’t fit for public consumption.  He’d already been having a hard time with the holidays; this about pushed him over the edge.  We talked a bit tonight about the things we can both control and the things we can’t.  It was one of the most frank conversations we’ve had since this whole mess began and although it was unpleasant, we both were being honest and we were both calm.  I’m grateful for those two things. 

It seems anti-holiday to feel so sad this year.  It’s cliche to state the obvious:  holidays are hard unless everything in your life is perfect.  Each year I’m reminded that I don’t get to see my brother and niece; that my other brother and sister-in-law are really far away; that my sister is also really far away (just not as far away as Hawaii).  There is always a tinge of sadness around the holidays, because the days of being able to get everyone together just doesn’t happen anymore.  We all have our own lives and responsibilities, but I miss my family.  Add to this the faux separation Mike and I have been living and the looming “real” separation, work and financial issues, and general all-around sadness over our lives and you have one dark Christmas.  I managed to squash all my crap down inside and covered it with a layer of mocha brownies.  Mike didn’t fare as well, so we lived in alternate universes for the duration.  I am usually the world’s worst PollyAna.  I did a great job this time.  When I focused on the joy in my children, it was easier.  When my dad thanked the surgeon who fixed his aneurysm and allowed him to live yet another year, it made it much better too (he’s usually cursing the surgeon for keeping him on this earth).  I took a couple of long baths, a nap on Christmas day, and ate my weight in food.  I attempted to care for myself insomuch as I could.

On a happier note, I got some great pictures over Christmas Eve and Day.  My dad really liked Gracie and found the sweet spot on her back to scratch.  After that, she couldn’t get enough of him and he of her, unless she breathed on him.  I would say that Gracie’s breath is almost as horrific as Delilah’s, and that’s saying a lot.  Thankfully we are all used to dealing with dog breath and we managed just fine. 

I was very glad to see Gracie getting used to the kids.  She rarely barks at them and only freaks out if they accidentally run in her general direction or screech in her ears.  Even then, she only seems partially interested in eating them, and then, only to shut them up.  Because she was up for so many hours, and she is used to sleeping 22 of 24 hours a day, she fell asleep on Christmas night and was completely sacked out on the couch.  Mike was sitting on the floor, and leaned over the give her a kiss on the head.  He scared the hell out of her, and she reacted by snapping.  Unfortunately his eyebrow and forehead got the brunt of it.  Man, facial lacerations bleed profusely (side note:  I didn’t pass out!).  He has a small cut in his eyebrow and a puncture wound on his forehead.  He looks like he was in a bar fight but with less bruising.  He never blamed Gracie or got mad at her - it was totally his fault, just like when Sara’s dog Parker bit me.  It’s hard remembering that not all dogs are as dopey and dense as Thora, who would probably lick a rabid raccoon instead of attacking it.  Gracie had serious doggie guilt after and spent close to an hour with her head on Mike’s lap, licking his face whenever he let her. 

Merry Christmas to all who celebrate, and Happy Festivus for the restovus.  I’m frankly glad it’s over.  One more major holidayic hurdle and we’re home free til Valentine’s Day.