December 24th, 10pm, Eastern Standard Time.

(( I can't believe a year went by so fast. ))

Ok, so it's twenty after eleven, but I think it's close enough.

Christmas Eve = crazy, crazy, totally unexpected, in the not-so-good-way way. I woke up this morning (after schleping myself out of bed at 9 am to go run some last minute errands with my mom), and she was still on the couch. Sleeping. Not good. This happens all the time, seemingly more frequent than it should? I don't know. It's like, a 24-hour-hardcore-knock-you-on-your-ass bug type thing. It being Christmas Eve and all, totally sucked.

I immediately fell into Mom-role, as such happens when these things do (that makes no sense at all, I'm way too lazy to go back and change it), which included taking care of my grandmother all day, baking, and deciding what to do about Christmas Eve at my other grandmother's house.

None of these things I particularly *mind*, except, the grandmother part. I have regressed in her eyes, when she knows who I am, to an 8 year old child, that has no right to suggest anything to her, even for her own good. Case and point: going into the basement, down the stairs, in the dark. I tell her I'm going to immediately go do what it is she was going to do (usually hang underwear on the clothesline down there), and she runs away, yelling (talking loudly) about how all she wants are "two damn clothespins" and "what is this" and then goes into the bathroom and slams the door. Wonderful. This immediately opens a new set of problems, stemming from the fact that she's fallen multiple times in the bathroom before.

Or like when she slipped past me and got outside this afternoon, and was picking up leaves. At 4 pm. In December. When it's cold. Without a jacket on. The inability for someone who has dymensia (sp? again. lazy.) to connect simple things like the fact that it's freezing out, so you should stay inside, boggles my mind. And the inability to believe anything that you tell them. Even when it's obviously for their own good. She'll literally laugh in your face. It's like an adolescent child. The regression is astonishing.

Needless to say, I had to be around, constantly, all day. So I first made the cheesecake for tomorrow, then made press cookies, then washed the entire kitchen floor since it was filllthy, then decided that there was no way we could go to Grandma's house to celebrate Christmas Eve (ps, I don't think we've ever missed a Christmas Eve, in 23 years) and that I needed to cook dinner. My only reprieve was an 18 minute, rushed trip to the grocery store. Since we had nothing for dinner. It honestly wasn't that bad, and I'm glad to help out, but when your own grandmother gives you that much attitude about something that could prevent her from falling down the stairs and breaking a hip, it's draining.

However, no more complaining. Dinner went over surprisingly well, and my dad got a really nice bottle of wine from Mr. Gerber for Christmas, from Italy. It was, admittedly, WAY better than getting Chinese food like we were originally going to, and everything was under control.

And it's now almost actually Christmas, and even though we had to postpone Christmas Eve until Wednesday, I feel like I'm ready for it to be Christmas. And that sitting here, in my room, with my lights and candle, is enough. Even after today. It's just, enough. And that's...nice.