Merry Christmas and a Christmas Childhood Memory

Happy Christmas, Y'all!

Lately my kids have had me repeat over and over a Christmas story from my childhood. I thought I'd write it down here for them, so Megan can read it to them when I'm tired of saying it twenty times.

So here it goes.

My earliest Christmas memory was when I was very little, probably around six or seven. It was Christmas Eve night and I was asleep in my bed when I was awakened by a sound. Jingle, jingle, jingle! I jumped out of bed and tiptoed out of my room so I wouldn't wake my younger brother, Daniel.

I left the room and tiptoed to my parents' room. I placed my ear against their door and listened to see if the sound was maybe coming from their room. I heard it again, but not from their room. Jingle, jingle, jingle! I gasped. It was coming from down the hall in the living room.

Could it be Santa that was making the jingle sound? I crept down the hall and stopped just at the corner. I listened again. Jingle, jingle, jingle!

I froze to the spot. I couldn't move. What if it was Santa and I caught him while he was putting out my presents? Would he be nice about it? Upset? Would it be like in the movies where the kid gets to help Santa hand out the rest of the presents and ride in the sleigh? Would he disappear before giving me all my presents and then I wouldn't get everything I wanted?

I couldn't risk it. I ran back to my room, jumped in my bed, put the blankets over me, and went to sleep.

The end.

The Pink Medicine

Poor Jeremy. We found out two Christmases ago that he's allergic to Motrin and now we've discovered a new allergy-amoxicillin.

I'd just taken the kids to play group (and had six kids all week while babysitting and had a friend babysit him and Megan) when I saw his legs covered in spots and immediately thought Chicken Pox. Crap. One of the most highly contagious childhood diseases and I was sure he had it and had passed it on to every child within 25 miles.

I got home, Googled pictures of chicken pox, and became certain he had it. When Nathan got home he voted hives. This relieved me quite a bit, but still, we weren't sure. Even after talking to the doctor over the phone we weren't sure.

The next day Nathan took him in when the spots started spreading all over his chest and arms and neck and started looking pretty bad. Thing was, Jeremy wasn't itchy or feeling sick or anything. The doctor assumed it was a less severe strain of chicken pox because Jeremy had already received the vaccine. Then as the doctor was leaving the room he asked if Jeremy had been on any medicine lately. We'd started giving him amoxicillin last week for an ear infection and the doctor took another look at Jeremy and determined that Jeremy was allergic to the amoxicillin and that it wasn't chicken pox.

Yay for not having chicken pox and passing it to all the kids at Church and that I babysit.

Boo for not being able to take amoxicillin.

But you know what? I hate that nasty pink medicine. I do. My kids, including Jeremy, love it. They would drink that nasty bottle of medicine like it was a bubble gum flavored milk shake. I can't even stand the smell of it. Really. And I think that Fructis Shampoo and Conditioner smell just like it. I've had to stop using Fructis because it smells so much like amoxicillin. I recently bought some because it was on sale and now everytime I use it I have to fight the horrid fumes. So next shampoo/conditioner shopping trip, I'm buying something that doesn't remind me of hiding from my parents while they try to force it down my throat as a kid. I can remember they once tried to hide it in a bowl of ice cream. I was wise. I knew what was up.