Christmas this year was a doozy! Matt had to work all week. I was feeling grinchy and missing my family. Everyone in the house besides me got a stomach bug. I spent the holiday week cleaning up vomit and more vomit and diarrhea and more diarrhea. I am writing this a week after Christmas and our Christmas ham still sits in the fridge.
Christmas Eve everyone felt well enough to dress up and read from Luke.
We had chicken fondue for dinner ... a Brown family tradition. We opened most of our gifts since Matt had to work on Christmas. Willa and Clark left cookies for Santa.
a few more memories:
Matt and I took the kids to visit Santa at the mall a couple Saturdays before Christmas. Mistake. Just as we got there, Santa went on break so we killed time by visiting the Disney store. When we went back to get in line, the line was at least an hour long. We left without seeing him. I took the kids back to visit Santa a few days later on a weekday morning. Much better! We didn't have to wait in line and Santa spent time talking to my kids. Willa loved it. She is a real believer this year. Clark doesn't quite get Santa yet.
Oliver got sick around 4am. Clark got sick around 5am. The commotion woke Willa up and she wanted to go downstairs to see what Santa left her. We told her to go back to bed for a little bit longer. I've never had a baby vomit before. It was so sad to watch him throw up and moan and feel so sick and not be able to do anything about it. I'm not sure when Willa snuck downstairs. Around 6:30 Matt and I went downstairs and she was already down there admiring her and her brothers' gifts. Clark and Oliver slept in since they were both sick. Matt worked, but was home by 11. Willa was sick again in the afternoon. I don't think anyone ate much of anything all day.
We went real again. We bought this tree at Home Depot. It was so full and smelled so good.
I love the smell of a real tree! The tree looked a little different everyday. Clark undecorated it and Willa redecorated it. I have almost all unbreakable ornaments. While we were decorating the tree, Clark picked up my one and only round glass ornament and threw it on the kitchen tile. It shattered. He thought it was a ball. He realized right away he had done something wrong. I could see on his face how bad he felt. He even walked over to the stairs and put himself in time out and hung his head. It was sweet. How could I get mad at something like that?