A Swanzy Christmas: PART III

Finally, the third and last installment of "A Swanzy Christmas" is presented here for your reading pleasure. Morbid as it sounds, this blog post has one of two titles: "A Killer Christmas" or "The Day JT Almost Died." What follows is an accurate account of the events leading up to the horrible incident that almost took the life of my husband JT on the 25th day of December in the year 2010.

It's Christmas morning. The kitchen is filled with the scents of freshly brewed coffee, pigs in a blanket, apple dumplings, and breakfast casserole. It was a regular smorgasbord of Christmas breakfast goodness. While we (Mark, Debra, Hunter, JT, and myself) ate and engaged in a bit of nostalgic chatter, we also watched the movie Home Alone. I personally believe that the movie is more awesome to watch as an adult; it's too funny. We spent half the movie trying to figure out exactly how Macaulay Culkin's (or Kevin in the movie) parents left their child at home unattended. How do you make it all the way to Paris without getting a visual of your kid at least once? I, for one, couldn't shake my parents growing up. They were on me like white on rice for most of my life. I was never alone (which is probably why I enjoy solitude so much now). They were so involved in every aspect of my brother and I's life. And while it may have annoyed me at times, I now know how blessed I was to have parents who loved me enough to care about every little detail of my existence (and they still do). Which brings me back to Christmas - a holiday that is all about family, togetherness, and the craziness that results when families collide.

Back to breakfast. Mom was upset that we were watching a movie at all (however likable it may have been) because our chosen activity was postponing the Christmas morning festivities. And, it is because of her displeasure that we paused the movie and headed into the living room for the annual present exchange. We were plus one this year (JT was the new addition). Although she forgot to purchase a set of traditional Christmas pajamas for him this year, she did remember to procure him his very own stocking and stocking hanger. My family loves stockings. You know the phrase "stocking stuffer"? Well, my mom takes that phrase and twists it around into "stuffed stocking" (more like overstuffed stocking). We always like to save the stockings for last; they are like grab bags full of gloriously random but highly useful items. For example, the usual stocking stuffer staples are as follows: Reese's peanut butter Christmas trees, a variety of dental hygiene products (floss and the like), fingernail clippers (weird, huh?), mints (my mother hates gum chewing with a fiery passion), perfume/cologne, a wide variety of gender specific trinkets, and other interesting knick knacks.

Therefore, the stockings are heavy laden. They are too bulky and overweight to hang from the mantle (or so most people would think). And yet, my mother disagrees with all laws of physics and gravity. In fact, she outright defies them by deigning to hang them up regardless of the negative side effects. In her mind she thinks, "Why would anyone want a stocking that is sitting rather than hanging on the mantle?" So, she hangs them against all odds. She hangs them from these beautiful, decorative, but heavy stocking hangers. Since the stockings are stuffed to the brim, there is no room for draping them over the mantle. No, these stockings and their hangers have to be perched precariously on the edge of the mantle. Let me put it this way; if someone were to breathe on these things, they are coming down, and they're coming down hard (which is exactly what happened).

The five of us are happily opening Christmas gifts, all the while exclaiming how much we love each and every one. We each had a pile of presents; we were taking turns opening them one by one, so that we all could see what was received and how. About midway through the present opening ceremony, we hear an awful crash. JT and I were sitting in front of the fireplace (as is my usual custom for I am perpetually cold) under the mantle on which hung the three stockings stuffed to absolute capacity. The loud noise was made by one of these stockings followed by its heavy stocking hanger falling to the ground (or so we thought). A few seconds after the falling of the Christmas missile, we realize that JT is wearing a slightly dazed yet painful look on his face. He is also holding the back of his head. We ask him if he is all right. JT turns his head, and my mom informs us that his head is bleeding. Actually, his head was more than bleeding; blood was gushing through his fingers as he tried to apply pressure to his head wound. Once we see how much blood there is, we begin trying to locate the object that had maimed my husband on his first (well, second Christmas but that's a story for another day) Christmas with my family.

That's when I saw it. The star-shaped stocking hanger with one of its points covered in JT's blood. "I found it," I cried, "this is what hit JT!" "Whew, it's sharp," exclaimed my mother. About this time, mom, Hunter, and I help JT to his feet and walk him into the kitchen. We sit him down in a chair and assess the situation. Mom is a nurse. She starts holding pressure on the wound, and blood spurts out even more. JT tells us that not only is his head in excruciating pain, but he is feeling a little dizzy as well. I get some rags to help absorb some of the blood; it soaks through about three pretty large rags. After mom got the bleeding to subside, she noticed the entry wound. It was small (about 1/4" wide), but it was extremely deep. Yep, we decided, it was definitely the hanging star (see photo above) that did the job. Although mom said no stitches were necessary, we were all worried (JT included) that an emergency room visit was in order. He might have a concussion. In fact, we began asking JT if he was concussed (not sure if that's a usable word); he didn't know. So, mom began asking him questions like, "Who is the President?" "What are the names (first and middle) of Britney Spears two sons?" etc. She even asked him who the Speaker of the House was; but that would not have been a good indicator of JT's condition because neither she nor any of us knew who it was. After a rigorous round of questioning, we decided that JT was going to live. Mom apologized several times for almost killing him. All was right in the world.

I dubbed the stocking hanger the "Christmas throwing star," but JT christened it the "Death Star." He wins the name game because it was his head that the star plunged into. It was touch and go for a while, but overall, Christmas morning was spectacular. We received great gifts; we ate good food; we saved a life; and JT had a life threatening experience to share on Twitter.

- W:)