I delay the Twelve Days of My Favorite Things - not because it is Christmas Day - but rather because (Sponsor's Name Here)'s Official Son, Mitten, is lying in an ER bed right now, and I am trying to stay awake as I watch him snore.
I got that "middle of the night phone call" that everyone dreads. Luckily, it wasn't too bad, but still disconcerting to hear at 5:30 AM on Christmas Morning that your son is in the emergency room. He woke up overnight with an appendicitis attack, and the Devil Reincarnate brought him to Froedtert.
So now, at 9:30 AM, we are in "hurry up and wait" mode. Mitten has been knocked out with morphine and is snoring away. The Devil Reincarnate went back home so that (Sponsor's Name Here)'s Official Daughter, Gooey, can have her Christmas, while I wait for the surgeons to decide what time the surgery is. The doctors and the surgeon have all reassured us that this seems to be pretty routine, but the timing is lousy.
Good thing the kids aren't five or six years old and sitting around the tree in footy pajamas waiting for the OK from mom and dad to start ripping open the gifts. Christmas isn't cancelled, just adjusted. I've still got a dozen people coming over this afternoon, but the only difference is that there will be more food for everyone because Mitten won't be there (relax, I kid! I kid!) and that I can't collapse on the sofa when everyone leaves... I will be making a trip back to the hospital.
The coolest part about this? Teasing Mitten next Christmas Eve about "What time is your heart attack scheduled?" File this in the file of memories!