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Holidays are only for the strong
We are slowly getting back to normal after our annual Christmas trek to three of our kids’ houses. We had learned our lesson in past years and packed light, each with just a duffel and a warm coat. The rest of the car was filled with presents.
The first trial is the four-hour-plus trip and the NJ Turnpike part which two days before Christmas is a holiday traffic nightmare. Stop, Go. What you can talk about in such a situation is limited. I suppose we could discuss world events but that would sink us into a funk quickly. On the other hand, “Oh, look at that bumper sticker” is a dead end.
We finally reached the first house in New Jersey, albeit late, where two little boys, Malcolm, who would turn six on Christmas Day, and Owen, three, were in a state of Santa Claus fever. There were a huge number of packages under the tree and we added a few.
We enjoyed a delicious dinner and the kids put cookies and milk out for Santa. We told the boys unless they went to bed right away, Santa wouldn’t stop at their house. They scrambled up the stairs like foxes with hounds on their tails.
On Christmas morning, we dragged ourselves out of a warm bed after hearing squeals and bare feet on the stairs. After the package opening, the room looked as though Santa’s reindeers had come through at full speed. But Grandpa always comes to the rescue with a massive black plastic bag. We then packed up and all of us went to another son’s house 40 minutes away for dinner and another round of toasts and package openings. Stephanie, 13, and Kyle, 11 showed us their gifts and we all opened more.
After a couple of days, we packed up again for the final Christmas celebration in Annapolis with Greta, 14, Hannah, 12, and Katie, 10 which required another long, slow trip. A very curious thing happened when we stopped on the turnpike at the next-to-last service area before the bridge.
We were leaving the building and pushing the door out. The same door was being pushed in by a couple coming in. It was my sister and her husband, who live on Cape Cod and were heading for Florida for three months. We had a cup of coffee and decided coincidence is eerily real.
Does it surprise anyone that I have a miserable cold? Now we’re getting ready to go to California to see our oldest son and family. One thing we’re pretty sure of is there will be no snow in Newport Beach. After a few days, we will board a cruise from Los Angeles down the coast of Mexico and through the Panama Canal to Costa Rica and some Caribbean islands to dock in Miami. I’ll be the one basking in Vitamin D and napping whenever I can.
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