That's right, I woke up Christmas morning puking up Thera-flu and nose spray. I made it through the boys opening their gifts, trying to be cheery while my head felt like it was going to explode from the sinus pressure, and feigning interest in unpackaging and playing with their toys with them.
By the time we made it to my parents' house, I was a shivering, foggy-headed mess. I laid in their 80 degree living room, wearing jeans, a shirt and a hoodie, covered in two quilts and begging people to put various throw blankets, jackets and other heavy items they unwrapped on top of my pile for warmth.
I had to have Mr. Ashley unwrap some of my gifts for me because I was too cold to poke my arms out of the blankets. (Maybe Big Kid was right about the advantages of a Snuggie?) I got awesome stuff too, my mom buys the best gifts, but someone could have driven a Mercedes convertible into the family room with a big bow and my name on it and I wouldn't have been able to muster up the strength to leave my cocoon of blankets.
I was asleep the second we finished unwrapping gifts and woke up shivering a few more times and hearing everyone having fun in the other room. I finally dragged myself up the stairs and fell asleep in the guest room until dinner was announced. I knew I couldn't eat the Prime Rib I was so anxiously anticipating, so I resumed my position on the couch and counted the seconds until it would be feasible to leave. Once the scraping of the forks stopped and the menfolk started up with "When I was in high school" stories, I begged to be taken home.
Once I got back to my own bed, I huddled underneath a mountain of blankets and shivered and sweated and ached and could barely tell the difference between my crazy, delusional dreams and reality. My jaw ached so badly I couldn't close my mouth and at one point I was dreaming that someone had shot me in the face and I was in the hospital. I would wake up covered in sweat, lying in a puddle and freezing, half heartedly trying to rearrange my blankets or find a towel to put under me.
Needless to say....it fucking sucked. BIG TIME.
I literally missed Christmas.
I also may have ruined our mattress with my non-stop hours of sweating.
Thankfully, my mom offered to watch the boys the day after Christmas while Mr. Ashley worked, so I was able to shiver and sweat and marvel at how my head felt like it was 500 broken pieces barely held together without little kid adding to the good times. This was the best gift ever. I don't even know how I could have done it otherwise.
I still have a splitting headache and my mattress is still damp, we had to put towels under the sheet just so I could sleep there last night.
I'm just glad to be halfway human again.
I think we should all just go ahead and do Christmas again, for my sake. It's only fair.