~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~
Every Thursday, here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!
We’ve been recovering this last week from a long trip to Massachusetts over Christmas and New Year’s. It had everything from flaming plum pudding to cousins in matching homemade Christmas pajamas, but the most exciting non-Christmas thing that we did was that Capt. P and I left the munchkins with my parents for a few nights and stole away for a quiet weekend on our own on Nantucket.
When you consider that:
1) the only time we’ve both been gone overnight since Pippo was born was when I gave birth to Molly, and
2) our two date night attempts in the last two years have featured a) milkshakes and a dead car battery and b) formalwear and a stomach bug,
you will realize that this was a Very Big Deal.
We enjoyed it immensely, and couldn’t wait to get back to our babies. It was just right.
Also, Pippo turned four!
About 25 aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins gamely rolled out of bed the day after Christmas for some mid-morning cake and presents. (hey, you try scheduling a December 26 birthday party around all the other festivities and chocolate-eating, not to mention naptimes! We do our best.)
It was unseasonably balmy in Massachusetts for most of our visit — bad news for those of us who were counting on our trip to the Northeast to satisfy our love of snow (we get the cold and the wind here in Southwest Oklahoma, but not much in the way of snow!), but good news for little ones who want to play outside!
In other news, trampolines + fleece = static electricity.
You can’t fly with a couple of little ones to New England in the middle of winter and expect not to get sick; when we make our travel plans this time of year we generally factor in recovery time for the inevitable colds and bugs we will pick up. This year was rough, though — in addition to the expected colds, we also picked up a case or two of the flu about halfway through our trip. This put a damper on our social plans; we basically spent the last week or so of our trip camped out on my poor in-laws’ sofa, blowing our noses and generally being cheerful bluebirds of happiness.
Our trip home was also rough — we’re pretty used to flying with babies at this point, and our kids are generally good travelers. But on this trip (which included multiple bouts of inconsolable crying on the part of one child, with the other child getting full-on airsick during one such crying episode) my one consolation was that all the other families on our flight (and there were several others) could take comfort in the knowledge that their children were not the worst-behaved on the airplane.
Sometimes it’s our turn to be That Family. You’re welcome, everyone else.
(I feel the same way at Mass, actually. Sometimes it’s just your turn.)
Anyway, it was a good trip, even if it wasn’t our easiest one. And it’s good to be home.