Christmas is right on top of us. The tree is decorated, presents are (mostly) wrapped, and family is gathering. In just a few more days the jolly fat man will be up on the roof stuffing presents down the chimney. But enough about Uncle Mike.
The part of Christmas that I love the most is that my family is now together again. The rest of the year we are constantly pulled apart by school and work. But now, for a few short weeks, we are all together with no other responsibilities and nowhere else we need to go. Last night is the perfect example of what I am talking about. I was sitting on the couch watching television. My wife was sitting next to me checking e-mail and playing games on her computer. My youngest daughter was upstairs facetiming her boyfriend, and my oldest was in her room watching a movie on her cell phone.
Ahhh … family time. Nothing better.
Now, if you think I’m being facetious, nothing could be further from the truth. The situation I just described is the best possible outcome of all four of us being home at the same time. On the rare occasions when we are all in the same room for more than fifteen minutes, my life generally devolves into a living hell. The girls begin to argue about whatever it is that girls fight about, (Hair ribbon? Face cream? I don’t know. I try to stay out of their nonsense.) and my wife will suddenly decide she wants to talk to me about her day. It makes it very difficult to hear the TV.
When this happens, turning the volume up on the TV is no solution either. The television only goes up to 100, while my daughters can exceed this setting by several decibels.
Meals are slightly better. It is more difficult to yell at your sibling when your mouth is full of food. Don’t get me wrong. They still manage it. The argument is just a bit more muffled. I try to serve thick, starchy items like potatoes or pasta because they tend to cram more into their mouths and it gives me slightly longer periods of calm. In a hurricane, seconds count.
For the most part, I have grown accustomed to this kind of chaotic occurrence in my home. I have learned to tune it out and simply enjoy the peace and quiet I have cultivated in my own head. I call it selective hearing. My wife calls it senility.
But this year, against my better judgement, we are endeavoring on a slightly more precarious holiday gathering. Rather than staying home, we are undertaking a road trip and a five day stay in a hotel in Southern California. I would tell you where we are going, but I am not altogether certain of the copyright laws regarding using their name. So, let’s just say it rhymes with Lisneydand.
Eight hours in a car, then six nights in a space smaller than our living room. Bring on the joy!
I suggested driving two cars and splitting up the family to make the trip a little more bearable. For some reason, my wife thought that I meant that each of us would have one kid in our car. That was not at all what I was thinking. I explained my view on the division of the family, then my wife explained her thoughts on dividing the family. Her ideas involved a lawyer. So, one car it is.
As for the hotel room, at least we will be able to roam free and wild during the days. The girls can take off on their own and argue with each other far away from me. My wife and I can grab a corndog and hang out on a bench; me playing games on my phone, her looking pissed off at being ignored. Good times.
The nights will be a little more claustrophobic as we all pack into that tiny hotel room and try to pretend the others don’t exist. But it is only for one week. We can do that. We have tolerated each other for over seventeen years, we can do five more days.
When it is done, we will all pile back into our tiny clown car and be home in plenty of time for Christmas. On Christmas Eve, we will be in our own comfortable beds once more, fast asleep and waiting for the man in the red suit to sneak into our house to steal milk and cookies.
But enough about Uncle Mike.