The month started out beautifully — full of mispronounced yuletide carols (“Dinkle Bells” is a favorite in this house), fake pine needles falling off of my aging tree, and the promise of easy gift giving and a little holiday baking thrown in for kicks.
Each day, I’ve lowered the number on my little “Countdown to Christmas” nutcracker and with each new, smaller number, I’ve felt a little more panic creep into my brain.
And, now, I just wish Christmas was already over.
WHAT! Did I just write that? ME? The woman who posted, before Thanksgiving, that she was ready for Christmas! ME?
Yes. Yes, I did.
The gift-assembling, craft-making (accursed glitter aside), and cooking has been fun. But each accomplished task has done nothing but remind me of one fact: we’ll soon be on the road . . . for a very. long. time!
“On the road? That’s all you’re worried about? Pish Posh!”
Why, yes, imaginary blog reader, that’s ALL I’m worried about.
In less than 12 hours, we’ll be packing diapers, kidlets, presents, clothes, and the last bits of wanton glitter into the truck and heading over the hills and through the woods. To our grandmother’s house we go . . .
Yeah — less than 12 hours. We’re driving at night — from Houston, TX to a wee bitty town in the far northeast corner of Oklahoma. Might as well call it Missouri. It’s not close.
Why did we opt for night travel? Because we have the only two kids in the world who hate riding in the car and refuse to pass the time away by sleeping. Our hope (as foolish as it may be) is that they will simply succumb to normal nighttime exhaustion and sleep the whole trip.
I get a headache just thinking about it. . . .I’ll be the one in the back seat with the kidlets. The one who gets to try and pacify two screaming beings as they protest the fact they are strapped into uncomfortable seats. The one who gets to sing silly songs over and over and over in weak attempts to help little kidlets forget they are miserable. The ONE.
The Little Lady’s first trip to Oklahoma was MISERABLE times 12. Our normal 8-9 hour trip was FOURTEEN HOURS. 14. Over half a DAY!
Hubby hopes that it will be different this year . . . even though we’ve added another “I hate the car” kidlet to the mix. He hopes driving at night will trick the kidlets into thinking they’re safe and snug in their beds, with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.
There’s only one person who’ll have such vision a’ dancin’ away . . . . and that’s me, as I try to find my “happy place” during the kidlets’ scream festival.
But . . . . the Little Lady’s excited eyes, when she sees Gramie, Papa, and the Christmas glory that can be found at my mom’s house, might just make the trip worth it. And . . . introducing my Grandmother and Grandfather to Mr. Boy, the little guy they’ve been waiting and waiting to meet, might just make the trip worth it.
And . . . . spending Christmas Eve with my entire family — at our home church, singing Christmas praise and worship music, flickering candles in our hands, my father (the pastor) reminding a congregation why we do this thing called “Christmas” . . . . might just make the trip worth it
