#235 In which our hero discussed his Christmas plans, and how they are not going as, um, planned.

Tomorrow is Christmas eve, and I have to admit that I'm not feeling very Christmas-y. See, I have this problem. I like to make plans, generally very casual plans, but plans nonetheless. And when these plans come together, it makes me very happy. But if they don't... well, I can get more than a little pissy about it.

And in the last four days, my plans have been thoroughly blown to shit.

The plan was that the in-laws were coming for Christmas, and no-one else. That makes for a nice, quiet and relaxed holiday. I was looking forward to it. I had the entire week of Christmas scheduled off, so I'd have plenty of time to kick back and unwind. The Scientist and I even planned on going out to see a movie. We don't often get the chance to just pick up and go (without the associated cost of a babysitter, of course).

Things started to go south early last week. I had taken Wednesday off just to burn my remaining vacation time. But Lily came down with a fever on Tuesday, and it was decided that it would be best to keep both kids out of school, just to be safe (our daycare is currently a festering cesspit of snot-nosed urchins). So my day off that was supposed to be a little light shopping and some heavy napping turned into me trying to entertain my kids all day. And here's the thing: I don't mind taking care of my kids for a day, I actually enjoyed it. But it was counter to the plan, which gnawed at the back of my mind.

Also, I'm involved with a new business pitch at work which, don't get me wrong, is cool. But it's very rush-rush-rush, and we need to send our finished presentation to the client by the 7th. That gives us next to no time to really pull everything together--especially considering that they are asking for three concepts. Anyway, it was clear that I'd be working some or all of Christmas week. And maybe the weekend right before Christmas, too. Suck.

But, as it turned out, I didn't have to work the weekend. So I thought it would be free and clear until the day after Christmas, which I will have to work.

Then The Scientist got sick.

And I mean really sick. She started to feel back Friday night, and spent all day Saturday in bed. Often, when people say something like I spent the entire day in bed it's an exaggeration; in this case, it was literally true. Other than getting up twice to go to the bathroom, my wife spent the entire day in bed. At 5 o'clock I made her some soup. Other than that she tossed and turned and moaned in bed.

Sunday morning, she felt better. Better enough to get out of bed and--wait for it--do a bunch of laundry. Why would she do this? You ask. I also asked. This isn't anything that can't wait, I said. Take it easy, you're not completely healthy yet. But no, she wanted to do laundry; and not only that, she wanted to go out shopping, then go to the fucking barn and feed her horse. Y'know, I said, you don't have to "catch up" on things you missed yesterday; this isn't anything that can't wait.

I'm fine, she said.

But, naturally, when she got back from the barn she felt worse. She immediately crawled into bed and tried to die. If anything, she's sicker now than she was yesterday. She's now dealing with, ahem, intestinal issues, so I'm giving her a wide berth.

In fact, I've been sanitizing my hands like crazy. The last thing I want is to get sick myself. Because I'm a huge pussy when it comes to getting sick.

So, clearly, we won't be going to the movies. We won't be having a dinner by ourselves. I won't be kicking back and relaxing. Did I mention that the girls also seem to have a touch of whatever is currently killing my wife? So yeah, they're whinny and hypersensitive and can't seem to play together for 10 minutes without getting into a fight. And since my father-in-law is engrossed in watching one football game after the other, I can't even put on the magic that is Dora. Even if I could, they'd just fight over what episode to watch.

My holiday plans are not going as I wanted. And I'm pissy about it.

But... I keep telling myself I only need to get to Christmas morning. Because we have some presents for the girls that they are going to LOVE. And I can't wait to see their faces. They are going to go mad with joy for these things.

At least, that's the plan.

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