Holiday Fails and Other Epic Moments
In my family, we ARE the Griswalds. You know – that family, headed by Chevy Chase’s character “Clark” in which the saying, “What can go wrong, will go wrong” applies to everything. The most famous Griswald movie is probably Christmas Vacation and let me tell ya – we’ve just about got them beat.
As a general rule, my mother leads in the most mortifying moments points, and still holding tight to the crown thanks to the ceiling incident, which she fell through on Christmas Day. No worries though – she only came through to her belly-button, though the Christmas Tree shaved off every one of its nine lives since she nearly crushed it. Poor evergreen.
My mother was also there when one massive tree, laden with her nine-million ornaments, started to fall over. In an attempt to save the suicidal leaping of all the ornaments, she tried to hold up the tree (I was at K-Mart buying lights because one twinkle light had died and thus the whole strand mutinied). Anyway, as she clung desperately to the tree, my then five-year-old brother (who was down right hysterical) managed to answer the ringing phone. Apparently one of my father’s clients was calling and my brother (drama queen that he was back then), sobbed into the phone, “CHRISTMAS IS RUINED!!” and hung up. I don’t think the man called back – can’t imagine WHY. Finally pulling in with the new lights, I looked through the bay window to where the tree had been, and one thought went through my head: Where the heck did the tree go and why is my brother plastered to the front glass door screaming at me?
Other disasters included getting stuck on the roof of the house, in the dark, with my dad who had convinced me that we could see Rose Kennedy’s fireworks from the skid-row area of Hyannis where we lived. While I think I did see a drug deal go down, I couldn’t see the fireworks OR MY HAND IN FRONT OF MY FACE. Convincing me to feel my way down off our steep roof to the ladder took a few years. Needless to say, the neighbors found us entertaining . . . probably as they weighed out a few Speed Balls.
We also had a hot water tank crap out an hour before my Christmas concert, all the power fail while cooking Thanksgiving dinner, our breaker box catch fire on Christmas Eve, and a tree nearly come through the roof of our house on New Years.
We laughed at everything, because this is life – Whadda ya gonna do?
So THIS Christmas, having escaped most holiday disasters myself, I should have known my time had come.
You see, I had asked for warm socks and fuzzy slippers for Christmas (hey – I am a simple gal with simple needs). Anyway, I got them and was wearing them while cooking (I hosted dinner – dumb idea #1). As the time drew near for guests to arrive, I grabbed my crock pot full of steaming, sweet and sour meatballs, and began to head upstairs to our family room. It turns out fuzzy socks and new slippers are an unwise choice for me.
I slipped half-way up the staircase.
The crock pot went flying. Meatballs sailed like comets. Sauce repainted the walls.
For crying out loud it looked like a serial killer had a field day in my stairwell!
As the last, lonely meatballs hopped down the stairs towards the now thrilled dogs, I burst out laughing. I was covered in sauce (and stripping because the stuff was friggin HOT), my new socks were marinated, and my fuzzy slippers were roadkill. I looked entirely ridiculous and all I could do was laugh to the point of almost peeing. While my husband was still scrubbing the walls, company arrived.
I had joined the ranks of my own mother’s historic catastrophes and I didn’t care.
Because this is life. And life is sometimes ridiculous and hilarious and all we can do is laugh at ourselves.
I will say this however: If anyone is crazy enough to ask me to carry a crockpot full of meatballs up the stairs, I plan on channeling my inner raven and muttering, “Nevermore.”