All Is Calm - Maybe

On the Friday and Saturday before Christmas, we drove up to Randy’s folks. Smells of Mom’s cooking met us at the door when we arrived and teased us until supper time. We gathered around the table, gave thanks to God, and started filling plates. Six-year-old Laura sat at the table and sighed contentedly. “Ham . . . green beans . . . rolls . . . . . I’ve always been waiting for a meal like this.” Just busted us all up.

Saturday noon the cousins came over and the eight kids under twelve had a blast exchanging gifts and chasing and playing all over the property, occasionally running past the dessert table and grabbing another tidbit. It was a day when we followed the parenting principle of benevolent neglect. That evening as we were packing up the car, eight-year-old John started fussing that he didn’t feel well. He was overheated and sugared up, so we packed a couple gallon Ziploc bags for the three hour home trip, just in case. After a couple hours’ drive we pulled into an Arni’s to give our oldest son a turn driving. All the girls were in dire need of a pit stop. Being the Good Mom that I am, I let Laura go first. Of course there’s only one bathroom, one stool. Laura was thoughtfully contemplating whether or not she was done. I finally told her to switch me places; she could think standing up for a minute. Meanwhile older sister Katherine kept banging the door every 20 seconds. I started to get annoyed. “Just a minute, willya!” “It’s John. He’s sick.” And I heard him wailing “Daaaddy” but Daddy was in the car, wondering what’s taking us so long.

So I quickly got myself presentable enough to open the door for him. Laura being modest reached for her ankles to pull up her wind pants. CRACK! She hit her forehead on the corner of the sink. “Oh honey, that had to hurt! Are you okay?” I asked. She straightened up and took her hand away from her eye; there was blood all over the place. It was all so interesting, John forgot he was sick. I folded some paper towels into a cold compress to stop the bleeding quickly, and sent Katherine for Randy, who dug out the Children’s Advil I’d had the foresight to pack. The cut could have used a stitch, but it was in her brow, where in time the scar wouldn’t show that much. I decided that with the children’s Christmas program at church the following morning, the trauma of a late evening ER visit wouldn’t have been worth it. “Laura, I think you’re just going to be a shepherd with a shiner.”

Back into the car and on the road again! At least for another 20 minutes. As Dan idled the van at a stop sign, John started hurling. I ordered Dan to pull into the lot at the garage across the street, where we all threw open the doors and jumped out into some fresh air. I took John back into a muddy alley between the buildings so we’d at least be out of the wind. After a while he settled down. “You all done?” He looked at his Ziploc bag and thought a minute. Then he cricked up one corner of his mouth, looked at me and said, “I’ve always been waiting for a meal like this.” I just about collapsed. I had to lean against the building I was laughing so hard.

After that the rest of the holiday was pretty calm. We drove the last half hour home, tucked everyone in and had a cup of hot tea. It’s not the holiday memory we expected to make, but we’re smiling just the same.