“How nice,” I said, giving the woman in the van beside us a wave. “She’s saying hello.”
“No,” Tom grumbled. “She’s gesturing that something is open in the back.”
What? No. Surely he—I took another glance at the woman as she pointed frantically behind her.
Then again, I’m not exactly with it first thing in the morning. It was only 710 AM.
Tom pulled over and went, “Did you close the back?” because I had been the last to do so after tossing in our jackets.
“Yes,” I said. I was sure I snapped it shut. Didn’t I?
Again, it was early. The alarm had pierced me from my sleep at 630 AM. I am not a morning person. I grumbled as I pulled on my clothes. Meanwhile, Tom was like, “This is nothing. I’m up at 3 AM for work.”
“Well, I was up at 3 AM and 4 AM and 5 AM when the kids were babies,” I retorted. “With leaking and cracked breasts.”
Tom didn’t reply. He had gone downstairs.
We were out the door soon after, because we had loaded everything the night before. Well. Not everything. I tossed our jackets in the back, just in case Texas was cold.
And apparently I did not click the back all the way, because Tom went, “You didn’t click it all the way!”
I pictured all our belongings flying out onto the road.
“Is everything there?” I asked. My mind was still foggy. I needed caffeine. And more sleep.
“Yes. Luckily. But you didn’t click it shut.”
Tom has a truck so it’s a heavy flap thingy you have to click shut. I hate trucks. I’m happy with my small car with the trunk that you snap shut by pushing down.
“At least everything is there.” I’d have been mortified if my underwear had gone flying down the highway. Tom already teases that it’s maybe a step up from granny panties—and he says he’s being generous with that. Maybe he already thinks I wear granny panties, but I’m all about comfort. Plus, it’s not like he wears fancy underwear: it’s boxers. From Hanes.
I wanted to sleep, but each time I began to drift off, I felt Natalie’s hand on the back of my head.
“Are we there? I feel like we should be there,” she said seriously.
“We aren’t. We still have six hours.” I shut my eyes again.
A few minutes later?
Tap-Tap-Tap against my head.
“Now what time?”
I dug into my backpack and handed her a brand new book. “Read this.”
It was mercifully silent for a few minutes.
Then?
“I feel like I’ve already read this a billion and two times,” Natalie said. It was another Disney Princess book. She probably had, but just with another princess.
“Just. Here.” I handed her a new Nintendo DS game. A Barbie one.
This kept her happy for maybe thirty minutes. And then?
Tap-Tap-Tap.
“Are were
THERE yet?”
“Geez. No. Look, just stare at the window and tell me how many people are ruining their lungs by smoking. Okay?” I shut my eyes.
I managed to drift off for a bit. I woke up when Natalie said, “Six, so far. Six smokers ruining their lungs.”
"Great. Now tell me how many people are on their cell phones, which basically tells the rest of us that they don't care about their lives and ours," I suggested.
Silence.
And then?
"Eight," Natalie told me. "So far."
I gave up on sleeping and began to read.
We arrived to my parents house at around 2 in the afternoon. They live about 7 hours away.
A fantastic visit was had.
We made cookies:
We celebrated Christmas at a respectable hour of 830. I don't do early mornings.
Actually, Natalie was still asleep:
We tore open presents:
I got a lot of Grumpy Cat stuff. To see it all, check out my
Instagram account.
This is how I feel in the morning:
You wouldn't know it, but Tom was excited to get a GoPro camera for Christmas.
We always have a great time:
AND I got to go to Trader's Joes, so I was happy.
Our ride home was uneventful. The only ruffle was when we stopped for gas. A man wandered over and tried to get us to buy this vehicle spray. He kept talking and talking--finally I cut in and went, "We have no money. We used it all for Christmas," and he went away.
I thought Tom would be like, "THANK you."
Instead he was like, "Well, that was rude. I was going to buy some."
"Pardon me. I just pictured your bottles and bottles of cleaning stuff in the garage," I replied.
So Tom was a bit moody for a bit after that. He claimed I didn't understand vehicle cleaners, because I never bothered to clean my car.
"The rain cleans it just fine," I sniffed.
Now comes taking down all the Christmas decorations and reminding Natalie that she doesn't need to cry. She'll see everything next year.
Also, remind me that I stuck the creepy
Elf on the Shelf in a stocking.
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