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This, my friends, is a tale of Christmas. While I watched joyous friends and acquaintances posting pictures of their Christmases on Facebook, we were knee-deep in cleaning. I mean that quite literally, as I decided to wash the carpets in our house on Christmas Day.
Because, well, our Christmas didn’t work. Heck, it never seems to work out. Someone is always sick. This year it was Ari. He started throwing up again overnight on Friday. Yep, just a week and a half out of getting over the stomach bug, he started vomiting yet again. And he wouldn’t stop.
He hasn’t stopped, yet, actually. And it’s now Tuesday. (Yes, we are taking him to the doctor today).
But late Saturday night we decided to go ahead and celebrate Christmas on Sunday anyways.
Ari and Chad were passed out on the living room floor and I managed to wake up in the middle of the night with enough time to set all of the presents up around our tree.
After deep-cleaning the house while they all rested, I decided I just needed to get out for a bit. There’s only so much sickness and cleaning a mama can take. So Remy and I headed to Starbucks — her in PJs, me without an ounce of makeup. I just didn’t have it in me to care.
Heck, I still don’t have it in me to care!