There’s some serious sadness going on in our house right now, let me tell you. We were supposed to go to Washington to spend the week between Christmas and New Year’s with my sister and her family. (Don’t tell any of the other cousins, but these are kind of the favorites.) We packed carefully, even filling the cooler with sandwiches and drinks, carrots and grapes. We had a bag of croutons to keep Dad happy driving many hours, and then the storm hit. We live in the mountains, and we expect snow in the winter. But this wasn’t about snow. This was ice, wind, gusty drifts, and major yuckiness.
And a closed freeway.
The one to use between here and there.
Oh, the sadness. Whining, moaning, crying, grumbling, sniffling, slumping, and that was before I told the kids.
We watched every weather and traffic camera across each state beween our house and theirs. Each one said said, “You’d probably be idiots to make this drive.” Except the ones on the closed freeway. They just shook their heads and laughed at us.
So we did what any normal family would do. We took the kids who were wallowing less deeply and went snowshoeing. Then we all drowned our sorrows in “Bedtime Stories” and buttered popcorn. We even snuck our stocking candy into the theater – a crime I am generally opposed to. It didn’t take. Everyone laughed at the movie, but we were all pretty boneless as we slouched out of the theater.
And now I have a week of sad kids and an antsy husband on my hands. And I’m usually the one who can’t wait for days together. I love the holidays from school. Any excuse for a vacation day is a good excuse for me.
But this time we’re all so depressed.