What better way to lead a post about boxing day than to share a photo of a bloody and bandaged hand?
I actually planned to post a list of my top holiday songs; just in case any of you were in search of some awesome music to accompany gift-opening or food prepping. After a dizzying and delightful morning of Santa gifts and bottomless pots of coffee, I sat down to write while JB created his annual Christmas feast in the kitchen.
Within minutes, he popped his head into the room and our real fun began:
JB: Hey, could you finish up making lunch for the kids?
Me: Sure, just give me a sec.
JB: Can you do it now?
Me: (turning to face my intruder) Why are your eyes so black?
JB: (pupils fully dilated, rest of body still hidden behind frame of door) I might of cut myself kind of badly.
Me: (jumping out of my chair) How badly?
JB: Like no more top-of-a-finger badly.
For those of you who know what he does for a living and are feeling great concern, please be assured that he's going to be fine
Here's something I need to tell you about myself: when people I love get hurt, I get very controlling with the needing to know of facts. I was grabbing gauze pads and Polysporin while drilling my poor husband for the details of the injury. He endured it for a couple of minutes and finally told me I needed to shut up and get him to the hospital. He's really good at pointing out my flaws, when I need him to.
Because we have amazingly supportive and (speedy) parents (thanks, Pops), I was able to join JB for a few hours in the ER while we waited for him to be bandaged up. Once we knew he was going to be fine (despite having to keep the injured finger dry, elevated, and rested) we actually appreciated the solitude and escape from the rush of the previous few days. We talked and laughed until we couldn't breathe.
As I watched him on the hospital bed, bloody fist raised above his head, smile across his face, laughter in the corner of his eyes, I felt such a swell of gratitude. We are at the end of another year and we are good. We are still great together. It's the best kind of gift.
And I'm so glad we were holding onto that feeling when we returned to the night and to our home.
We were met with a household of cranky, sugar overloaded, hungry kids. And while I rushed to patch together a lighter version of JB's Christmas dinner, our six-year-old snuck over to our white microfibre couch to take a catnap.
When I went to wake her for dinner, I was met with the most unforgettable sight.
It seems she fell asleep with chocolate balled up in her fist. You did read the part about the couch being white, right?
The playlist isn't going to happen this year, but I couldn't end this post without one of my favourite tracks. Thank you to my good friend Cynthia at Little Red Mix Tape for adding it to my collection.