The gift that keeps on giving

The two granddaughters on Mr Lemon's side of the family, Splenda and ~A~ (don't know if her parents are cool with sharing her name on the internet, so I'm playing it safe) are blessed? cursed? with near Christmas birthdays. We had Splenda a party weekend before last, of which my greatest joy was how cool the napkins looked.



Splenda was more excited about the Cold Stone Creamery Cookie Dough Ice Cream Cake, but she appreciated the effort I put into the napkins.


~A's~ party was this past Friday. She smashed her face in cake as is appropriate for a 1 year old, played with the boxes and the wrapping paper, leaving her toys for Dad to unwrap.

Fast forward to Monday, Christmas Eve.

Fast, I know.

I wished I had been fasting.

Had Mr Lemon been home to see the speed in which I was worshiping at the great white throne, he wouldn't have let me go to his family's Christmas Eve lunch/gift exchange/virus exchange. It was awful. Apparently SOMEONE at ~A's~ party wanted to be remembered in the family annals as The Plague of Christmas Present, and by Christmas Day, we were all patiently sitting around at Mr Lemon's Dad's house, taking a number for whose turn it is in the bathroom.

You may think I'm exaggerating for comic effect, but seriously, folks. I was literally PRAISING JESUS that I did not have morning sickness, because I don't think I would have survived up to this point in my pregnancy if I had to throw up like that every day for three months.

On Christmas Eve, he and I drove around to see Christmas lights, and all the turning in the subdivisions and the lights blinking did a number on me, and we had to stop at the only store open in Madison IN on Christmas Eve - Walgreens. I bought Tums and vanilla pudding to try and get something in my stomach. I also bought a roll of paper towels, should it not stay on my stomach.

To all of you who enjoyed the feasting and the gluttony of Christmas, congratulations. My Tums were the big hit of my holiday.