I am writing this post from my kitchen table, after a great holiday with family and then a beautiful week spent at my sister’s house. Everything went pretty much according to plan: the kids liked everything they got (Cam found me at the end of the day on Christmas, hugged me, and said, “Everything is perfect. Thank you so much,” which was pretty bomb to be honest). We had fun at my in-laws’ house on the 23rd, then at my brother’s house on Christmas Eve, and finally at my mom’s house on Christmas Day. We road tripped to Jill’s house the day after Christmas; the trip there was fast and we had a great week with her family. We kept to our plan of always doing something new every time we visit. Most of what we did, though, was low-key: we played games. The kids swam. We saw Rogue One. We went to a NYE party complete with (pretty dang professional-grade) fireworks. It was a great week.
It is well-documented that Dave and I each prefer to drive the car. We basically trade off for the most part, but we have worked out some ground rules– for example, Dave is the leadoff driver on road trips. Therefore he got behind the wheel early yesterday morning after we said our goodbyes, and we headed to Starbucks. I went inside to get drinks. When I came back, Dave asked me to drive, saying he felt a little off. He fell asleep almost immediately, along with the kids, and I spent the first hour of the drive enjoying the gorgeous scenery, filled with a sense of well-being and happiness.
Then Dave suddenly sat up and urgently told me to pull over. We later discovered that the NYE party had been Ground Zero for some kind of vicious stomach bug, with 8 or 9 people from the party coming down with it at the same time as Dave. Can you imagine taking a road trip in that condition? We pulled over… let’s just say “frequently…” and in-between vomit stops I would drive really really fast– trying to both make up time and get home before any of the rest of us got sick. I was afraid to give anyone any real food, so the kids had to survive on crackers, granola bars, and water all day while I called out. “Everyone okay? Anyone feel sick?” every 20 minutes. As the only functioning driver, I was afraid to eat anything at all. Meanwhile, poor Dave was trying not to die in the passenger seat, stretching out the time between vomit stops as long as possible (once he gambled and lost, by the way. That was not a great moment.)
But we did get home and no one else ever got sick. Our friend Kat brought over dinner for us all, which was the best, best, unexpected pleasant surprise. This morning everyone, Dave included, is feeling fine. We are doing a little bit of unpacking and a lot of relaxing. I went to the gym. Cam is downstairs, stringing lacrosse sticks. Dave and the J are putting together her new shelving units. Gabby is watching old-school Children of the Corn for some reason. It’s really nice to be home.