Christmas arrives. Along with it, more tears.

I'm too tired to plot out the points of this post so I'll ramble along the best I can. Last night I was up until about 3am with palpitations-I'm guessing from too much caffeine and stress. On top of that, Christmas, has not been an easy holiday for me to endure-yes endure. My parents are gone-3 years since my Mother died and 10 since my dad's been gone. Holidays give me a stomach ache, mostly. Little things make me cry. I try to find solace in visiting with my close friends, but all the family traditions are gone and I feel like I'm wearing someone else's clothes. Maybe they protect me from the cold, but they don't fit quite right-maybe they smell a bit odd, too.

Today didn't get off to the best start. I was already tense about Donner and Cupid, who weren't eating well, or at all, the day before. When I opened the door to the foster room, I feared seeing a dead cat. Thankfully everyone was alive, but Mama-Cupid had clearly vomited all the food she ate the night before. I had gotten her to eat by offering her about ten different foods. I finally found a winner- crappy, grained dry food, but she ate. That's what was important. Now, a huge splash of vomit covered the left side of her dog crate. She was curled inside a covered cat bed next to the mess, looking limp and weak.

Sam has to help me give the meds to the cats. They get so many different medications, I can't hold them and give them the drops, ointment, creams, pills, what have you...When I tried to get some probiotic paste into Blitzen's mouth, he squirmed, then bit my thumb-a deep puncture bite. I threw myself backward and howled in pain. I knew I was in trouble if I didn't get it cleaned out quick.

I ran to the bathroom and grabbed at the betadine and hydrogen peroxide. I washed my thumb, trembling all the while. I soaked my thumb in a peroxide filled Dixie cup and kept squeezing at the wound to push any contaminants out of my finger. It bled profusely, which was good. Hopefully I got it cleaned out enough to keep me from having to visit the ER on a HOLIDAY!!!

After that, what could I do? I had to finish giving the 4 remaining cats their meds. By now I was cross and Sam was silent. We just did what we had to do, then I had to figure out how to get Cupid to eat, so I force fed her some A/D and warm water gruel. I hoped she could keep that down and that it would help her find her hunger again. She looked so miserable, but I have to do the best for her, whatever that may be.

Thankfully, little Donner ate. She ate a bit of this and a bit of that and a bit more, then had a drink. She looked a bit more perky. With any luck, she is out of the woods and on her way to being healthy again.

Then I tried to feed my own cats. Poor Bob is sneezing. He's either sick from being around Nora or he's got the nasty-ass bug my fosters have. He was reluctant to eat. I'm sure he can't smell his food. I tried and tried to get him to eat. I finally gave up and gave him some grain-free dry. He hasn't had dry food in a month. He gobbled it up greedily. At this point, I want to keep him going. I don't care what it takes.

I also put out a brand new electric blanket for Bob. I got it on sale at Tar-jay. I let it warm up, then carried a very irritated Bob over to the new bed. He sat on it, feeling the warmth. He started to purr and gently knead at the blanket. I feared he would electrocute himself, but he wasn't doing it too hard. He laid down and purred deeply. He looked relaxed and content. It was great to see him like that.

Sam put on the "Yule Log" DVD. It's video footage of a fireplace with a nice fire going, so in essence you can pretend your TV IS a working fireplace. The soundtrack is rather poorly orchestrated Christmas songs, but it does the trick. It throws me over the edge and I burst into tears. I'm taken back to all the years my Mother would turn the TV to WPIX to watch the Yule Log broadcast. This was before there WERE DVDs or even computers in the home. My Mother would have my brother and I stand in front of the TV and pretend to warm our hands on the warmth from the phoney fire. Of course she would take a photo to commemorate the event. One year, when we were in our teens, my brother lit a piece of paper on fire and held it in front of the TV to add to the realism. I was terrified he would drop it onto the floor and set the house ablaze. Hey, he did it when he was four, so why stop at 15?

Sam didn't know what to do. He offered to get some present for me to open. He just didn't get it. Opening a present isn't going to fix a broken, stressed out heart. Then Sam got real quiet again. This was just not going well at all. Some times I just want to give up and leave, but I don't. There is no running away from heartache or missing your parents.

We both tried to right the ship. I sucked it up and said we should open our presents. I didn't expect much, nor did he. We both had some good surprises and it was all right, though there was little joy, more polite friendliness. Let's just get through this...right?

We were invited to visit some friends. I thought it would keep my mind occupied, which it did, but Sam stayed on one side of our friend's home, while I was on the other. I tried to make peace, while he sat quietly with a cat on his lap. I know he might be hurting, too. Sam has to have a root canal in a few days. He was treated with a big antibiotic injection and said he was doing all right, but maybe he wasn't. I don't know. Sam doesn't say much. Maybe you're noticing that trend. I'm too tired to talk to him to figure it all out. I got nothing left. He's got...I don't know what. I know he went to bed at 9:30pm and I am up, too wired to sleep.

If Cupid doesn't improve, I'll take her to see Dr Larry tomorrow. She's too thin to not be eating. She's separated from her kittens so they can't bother her. It's weird. They seem to know she's in trouble. When she gets up to use her litter pan, they run over to her dog crate to look in on her with interest. They so want to be with her, but she pays them no mind. She does her business, then goes back to her bed. Her sparkle, what little she had when she got here, is gone. I hope I can get it back.

As for my own sparkle, well, the odds are that I will get that back one of these days and I will get through this Holiday season. What I can't get back is a part of my heart. It was left behind with a small, crazy family that lived in a 2-story colonial house on Salem Road in Trumbull, CT. They did silly things during Holidays, like Olympic Score belching at the dinner table or take a family portrait and where our heads would be, we each have taped in place, a vinyl die-cut placemat of Santa's smiling face. There was something about all of us together that was magic and there's no getting that back.