It’s almost 3 p.m. on Christmas Eve. In true “my family” form, we have already opened gifts. Gifts this year were stockings to an assigned family member – which actually was pretty cool because it simplified things. Of course my nephew was nonplussed with his $60 in $1 bills that were lovingly tucked into his stocking. As much as kids think that only money will be cool, they wind up thinking it’s not.
So, we’re done with presents and the five dogs are all finally being mellow. So then it starts snowing. Like, a lot. So also in true family form, we eat a lot of shrimp. Like, a party platter designed for 20 people (there are seven of us). I try and ignore the ginormous flakes falling outside. They’re bigger than the shrimp I’m stuffing in my mouth. I mention leaving and everyone freaks. My sister mentions that it will be fine. Thirty minutes later, my car is packed up and ready to go. I make it just under half a mile and then my car fishtails, so I do the most logical thing you’d do a snowy, icy hill and come to a halt. ON A HILL. So I call my family, speaking in inaudible shrieks. My mom promptly reports to the rest of the family that I am stuck, hysterical and sobbing.
My dad and my brother-in-law come to the rescue in their four-wheel drive vehicle while my tiny Toyota remains precariously perched, the mailman inching closer to me because he thinks somehow my situation will get better and he’ll be able to follow me up said hill. My mom sent kitty litter with them to unstick me. As the boys work to get me out, my nephew’s four-wheel empty car slides backwards down the hill and my handy BIL has to run and jump into the front seat to save it.
Back at home my sister’s cyber-stalking app fails to ping any of us and so no one knows where anyone really is.
I come back to the house after about 15 minutes of this unsticking business. In true family form, I scream and throw stuff and say how upset I am because I am not going to be able to get to my boys for Christmas. One is still in Wisconsin and the weather across the United States is stellar. The other is with his father and expecting me tomorrow at 8 a.m.
My sister drinks Prosecco and tells me it’s only 2 p.m. and that I should quit freaking out. I think about smacking her. My dad exclaims that it’s not going to get any better. I call Big and tell him I am currently stuck at my mom and dad’s. He doesn’t seem to get it and is excited about presents.
Two inches of snow has ruined my Christmas.
So then, I have a glass of Prosecco and the Chihuahuas start playing. I can smell my mom’s lasagna cooking in the oven. My sister says it could be worse, we could have actually gotten in to an accident. True… She also mentions that it’s only 2:30 p.m. After I shoot daggers at her with my eyes, we start to make jokes and the mood lightens. We decide to play a game. I call my staff and start to make arrangements for them to stay in town overnight to work.
And yeah, it’s only 3 p.m. I realize that it’s going to be Christmas with my kids whenever I get back to them. It’s more important to be safe than sorry. And even though I am upset, I keep perspective that everyone is safe. So I’ll sit back and let my nephew bring me ice water and my cell phone charger. And watch my BIL be in a coma on the sofa. And post pictures of him on Facebook that he’ll thank me for later. And ride out the storm.
Merry Christmas everyone – today, tomorrow, and maybe even on Monday if that’s how long it takes! Stay safe!