In 2010, exceptionally, we were all able to gather together for Christmas at my mother's house. There are 5 of us, and at the time there were also 13 grandchildren (now 14). Arsehole BIL decided to overrule the standard present opening method for the children (open a present every hour, which means we can keep track of who got what and enables them to enjoy each present before moving onto the next. Result was all 13 kids tore open their presents in a frenzy, they all got mixed up together, there were fights, and BIL offered to make breakfast for the children but only did it for his own.
My mother was utterly overwhelmed by the prospect of cooking lunch for 20, so I stepped in, walking my then 1 year old for half an hour during the day while the turkey was in the oven. It was that freezing winter. The slick ice patches had melted a little and it was a lovely cold, crisp day. Turned out to be the last walk for some months.
I went back to the house, continued to cook the lunch for 20 on my mother's extremely unreliable gas cooker while arsehole BIL got more and more wound up by the lateness of lunch, whilst not actually doing anything of any practical use whatsoever.
I left the house, exhausted, at 10 pm, having cooked lunch single handedly for 20, helped to clear up and had some Xmas games. DD3 who was 15 mo was asleep, and I wrestled her into her thick snowsuit as it was freezing again (this is relevant, bear with me). Left the house carrying DD3 over my shoulder to walk the 300 m down to my sister's house. It was about -7C by then and all the snow that had been melting in the day was freezing solid again. I pondered briefly whether to take the pushchair for DD but decided that it was only 300 m and she'd only get cold and wake up. I pondered briefly whether to take a torch but decided that since i was carrying DD that wasn't such a good idea.
Walked 25 m down my mother's slanting driveway, accidentally stepped on a sloping patch of ice, slipped and fell heavily on my bottom with my foot folded underneath me in a desperate attempt not to drop DD. Felt the ankle break in three places as I collapsed on it. DD was lowered slightly heavily onto the ground, her head protected by her thick down snowsuit hood (yeay for Gap snowsuits!). I tried to stand up, discovered I couldn't. My only solution was to call the house from my mobile. My brother and sister came out and carried us both back in the house. My mother assured my I'd only sprained the ankle as that's what she'd done once. Took some paracetamol and was driven back the house we were staying in.
Went to A&E the next day on way to father's for lunch, who confirmed that yes the ankle was indeed broken in 3 places. Had corrective surgery 10 days later and spent 6 weeks in plaster. Thought I would go mad at times.
Best Christmas ever. 