Holidays and mayhem seem to go hand-in-hand

I wonder what your favorite Christmas movie says about you.

It stands to reason that if it's "It's a Wonderful Life" then you are someone who prefers the traditional. Maybe you're an optimist, or a person who likes to believe in magic.

Fans of "Miracle on 34th Street" are probably similar. How can the moment when the postal workers carry in all those mail bags not make you believe in, if not at least root for, Santa Claus?

As I got older, "Christmas Vacation" became the holiday movie of choice. Over the years, we've memorized and recited almost every line of the script between us.

I must have been about 16 when I noticed just how poor the special effects were in the scene where the ice flies out of the gutter and through a neighbor's window. Watch closely and you can see that big ice chunk is merely a pencil.

I guess it's fitting that cringing at the plight of the Griswolds has become one of our most time-worn holiday traditions. Especially as an adult, I can strongly relate to that sincere desire for a perfect Christmas, and I see how easily things can get turned upside down.

Even though Clark's bad fortune is more the stuff of Hollywood than most people's, the idea of things going from bad to worse no doubt is a reality for many families when you crowd a single house with extended family for a few days.

My bout of Christmas bad luck came early this year, but I'm still feeling the fallout. On Sunday, rushed to finish other Christmas to-do items, we were planning to quickly drop in a fast-food restaurant for supper before finally getting around to grocery shopping (items for Christmas fudge and granola on my list).

It was a bad sign when at least three people who had already placed their orders hadn't yet gotten their food, but when we stood at the counter for several moments and didn't even get greeted by an employee, I suggested we satisfy my son's need for chicken nuggets somewhere else.

As I went to plop my son back into his car seat, I somehow stepped the wrong way off the curb, rolling my ankle and landing on my bottom, my husband scooping our son from my arms before he managed to suffer any damage.

Sick from the pain, I knew grocery shopping would have to wait, so we drove through another fast food chain nearby and I let my son eat in the car -- not thinking about the potential consequences of letting him scarf down chicken tenders and apple slices out of the field of my vision -- while my husband went in the store for just the most vital necessities.

Back at home, my foot was hurting but we managed to get to bed without a trip to the ER.

Then, at about 1 a.m., my son's fast food came back with a vengeance, all over our bed.

As I hobbled to change his clothes, my husband cleared the Christmas presents off our spare bed, where we all squeezed in soundly until my son vomited a second time about an hour later.

By morning my son was fine. With a lot of ice, the swelling in my foot is finally starting to go down, but as of Thursday I'm a few evenings behind on last-minute gift-wrapping, laundry, packing and other tasks.

Boy, the perfect Christmas seems like a lot of work.

• Contact Jessica Wiant at jwiant@nvdaily.com