Emotional Checklist for Mothers of College Freshmen
By Carolyn (4) McBryde
Please read the following statements to determine your base score:
1 point Your child attends college in your hometown.
2 points Your child is close enough to come home weekends.
3 points Your child only comes home for major holidays.
4 points Your child spends Christmas with another family.
5 points Your child has to have a passport to come home.
_____ (Base Score)
You get (1 point) extra credit if you answer yes to any of the following statements:
_____ There has been a recent death in the family.
_____ There is a serious illness in the family.
_____ You have lost your job or pet.
_____ There is a family wedding in the next 6 months.
_____ You are still paying on the last wedding.
_____ This is your first child.
_____ This is your last child.
_____ This is your favorite child.
You also have a child entering:
_____ Preschool
_____ Kindergarten
_____ Middle School
_____ High School
_____ Military
_____ A different university
_____ Other (Feel free to explain in great detail)
_____ (Extra Credit Total)
Base Score _____
Extra Credit _____
Total _____
Get a Grip!
1999 was a very emotional summer for our family. In July, my dad died unexpectedly. We were sending our first child away to Abilene Christian University a few weeks later. Granted it was back to a town we had lived in and loved for several years, but the emotional impact was still great.
Traditionally, the first Sunday of Welcome Week is a time of blessing the ACU freshmen and their families at the Highland church. My mind was flooded with memories as I thought of the years we had worshipped in this very auditorium with our little boys. I fought back tears during the Sunday morning assembly. Matt had been looking forward to this moment for months, and I didn’t want to spoil his joy by falling apart.
After we were dismissed, I was making my way over to greet some friends, when I ran into a couple that I had known as a teenager. The reunion was sweet. After getting over the shock that I was now old enough to have a child going to college, they began asking about my family. “And how are your parents?”
Obviously, they had not been told. “Thank you for asking. I’m sorry no one called you. Daddy had surgery last month and wasn’t able to make it off of the respirator. He died a few weeks ago. Mother is doing amazingly well.” Their eyes filled with tears as they embraced me and offered their sympathy. All of the emotion I had been holding back during worship came pouring out.
My mascara was smeared, my nose was red, and I was out of tissues. I could imagine what the other parents of college students were thinking. (“That woman needs to get a grip!”)
I wanted to explain to them that these were tears for my dad, not my son. Or were they? My friend, Maria came to the rescue. We hugged and she began to wail. “I know just how you feel! I can’t stand the thought of Emily being gone! I’m going to miss her so much! This is sooooo hard!”
I immediately dried up and said, “Isn’t Emily staying here and going to ACU?”
“Yes.” she sobbed.
“Maria,” I said. ”She’ll be down the street.”
“I know, but it just won’t be the same!”
How dare she think that her grief compared to mine! Matt would be 3 ½ hours away. That was a totally different situation. After all, he was our first. And my dad had just died. I had a lot more to cry about than she did.
I turned and saw Marilyn. Her twins were the same age as Matt. One was staying at ACU and the other was headed for A&M. (about a 4-hour drive). She was recovering from breast cancer and losing her only two kids at the same time! It was okay for her to cry. A lot more okay than it was for Maria.
Next, Dion put his arm around me, “It’s okay. My mom cried all the way home when she left me at college.”
“Where did you go to school?” I asked.
“Harding, in Arkansas.” He said.
I needed to calculate the mileage. “Where were you living at the time?”
“Germany.”
Well, that settled it. His mom won the prize for the most legitimate reason to cry. Then I began to listen (a novel idea) as other parents began to share their stories. One husband had recently lost his job and they had two kids at ACU at the same time. Another was grieving over sending her baby boy to college. At least I still had Scott at home for another couple of years. (Oh, and my husband.)
I found myself evaluating everyone’s situation and rating them accordingly. Then it occurred to me. There should be a system. Our score would be based off of the number of traumatic things that were going on in our lives as we were sending our kids away. We could wear the numbers, say, on our visitor’s tag, and immediately be aware of the moms who were having an especially difficult time.
I would be wearing a 4, (first child, close enough to come home on weekends) but I would be careful not to whine in front of a 7 (one child in town, one close enough to come home on weekends, first child AND last child, recent illness…that equals 6, but I give Marilyn extra credit for having twins). On the other hand, if I walked by a 2, (your first kid is down the street) well, that lady just needs to get a grip, Maria!
At the school where I teach, 3 of us were sending our boys to college. I was a 4, Naomi was a first child close enough to come home 3, and Phyllis was a wimpy 1. Her second one was just going 30 minutes away. I thought I was the winner, until I began to notice a few things. Her son came home a lot. I mean a LOT. And brought friends. That were hungry. And had dirty laundry. Did I mention that they came home a lot?
She knew when he was supposed to be where, and worried when he wasn’t. It was only natural to ask if he had any homework and she felt obligated to check on his projects. They were paying for a dorm room, but he never quite moved out, to give her the guest room she had always dreamed of. I showed her my checklist in November. She rolled her eyes as she handed it back. “It would be much easier if he was out of town. Moms of kids who stay in town should have a base score of 6!”
What a whiner.
She needs to get a grip.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
What's Love Got to do With It?
People are constantly stopping us at church and asking us the secret to our happy marriage. And I’d like to think it’s because I have always been…okay, okay. So nobody has ever asked us that. But with our boys getting married last summer followed by our 25th anniversary, I have had several occasions to stop and ask myself, “How in the world did we make it this far?”
Last week I received a letter from a college friend. She was creative and loved to laugh, so you might know we’d hit it off from the start. The guys she dated were outgoing as well, and I remember being surprised when she married, of all things, a Math major. (There’s nothing fun about that!) But she had graduated with honors and was working in the field she loved, so I chalked it up to ‘opposites attract’ and continued to admire her life.
I’m not sure who left Lubbock first, but for a few years we exchanged Christmas letters and photos, and eventually lost touch. I ran into a relative of hers not long ago and asked for her new address. Here is part of her letter:
“…I’m jealous. I had dreamed of the All-American family and a family photo like yours with children who had married happily. Who didn’t have children until after marriage. Who married good strong Christians and who were themselves good strong Christians…”
It went downhill from there. Aside from being very sad for the things that she shared so honestly, I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I thought, “That could have been me.” Me and my left-brained, linear thinking, not a creative bone in his body, engineer, sweetheart of a husband.
While unpacking boxes of books recently, I ran across our copy of Harley’s book, His Needs, Her Needs (or as I like to refer to it, His Needs His Needs! Basically, men have just one need and guess what it is?) Well, the author suggests that the couple should read the same copy and highlight things she thinks are important in pink, and he should do the same with a blue one. Then you get together and discuss the common topics that are in purple.
I remember being in trouble from the Table of Contents, because Drew didn’t see the genius in my buying a package of highlighters from Sam’s, since surely we already had those around the house. Never mind that he was right. I just couldn’t find them. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but I imagine it went into a critique of my organizational skills and then I probably pouted. I’m positively sure I pouted.
Drew and I are very thankful and humbled to be together after 25 years. To be honest, it’s not because we have prayed and read the Bible together every day, because we haven’t. It’s not because we had a date night every week and celebrated our anniversaries away from the children every year, because we didn’t. And without judging our friends who have gone through the pain and agony of a divorce, it’s not because we always gave it our very best effort because often, we just wouldn’t.
This may sound lame, but it’s true. We kept showing up. For each other, for our kids and for church. I know, we’re the church, but you know what I mean. We taught in our kids classes and found other ways to serve together. We were constantly connected to a small group and shared our hearts with peers and with those who were further down the road than we were.
Maybe my friend did, too and it just didn’t work out. But in our case, it’s amazing to realize how faithful God has been to us with the little we have given Him to work with. Sometimes love was just a decision on our part. And God’s unfailing love has had everything in the world to do with it.
Last week I received a letter from a college friend. She was creative and loved to laugh, so you might know we’d hit it off from the start. The guys she dated were outgoing as well, and I remember being surprised when she married, of all things, a Math major. (There’s nothing fun about that!) But she had graduated with honors and was working in the field she loved, so I chalked it up to ‘opposites attract’ and continued to admire her life.
I’m not sure who left Lubbock first, but for a few years we exchanged Christmas letters and photos, and eventually lost touch. I ran into a relative of hers not long ago and asked for her new address. Here is part of her letter:
“…I’m jealous. I had dreamed of the All-American family and a family photo like yours with children who had married happily. Who didn’t have children until after marriage. Who married good strong Christians and who were themselves good strong Christians…”
It went downhill from there. Aside from being very sad for the things that she shared so honestly, I had this sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I thought, “That could have been me.” Me and my left-brained, linear thinking, not a creative bone in his body, engineer, sweetheart of a husband.
While unpacking boxes of books recently, I ran across our copy of Harley’s book, His Needs, Her Needs (or as I like to refer to it, His Needs His Needs! Basically, men have just one need and guess what it is?) Well, the author suggests that the couple should read the same copy and highlight things she thinks are important in pink, and he should do the same with a blue one. Then you get together and discuss the common topics that are in purple.
I remember being in trouble from the Table of Contents, because Drew didn’t see the genius in my buying a package of highlighters from Sam’s, since surely we already had those around the house. Never mind that he was right. I just couldn’t find them. I don’t remember the exact conversation, but I imagine it went into a critique of my organizational skills and then I probably pouted. I’m positively sure I pouted.
Drew and I are very thankful and humbled to be together after 25 years. To be honest, it’s not because we have prayed and read the Bible together every day, because we haven’t. It’s not because we had a date night every week and celebrated our anniversaries away from the children every year, because we didn’t. And without judging our friends who have gone through the pain and agony of a divorce, it’s not because we always gave it our very best effort because often, we just wouldn’t.
This may sound lame, but it’s true. We kept showing up. For each other, for our kids and for church. I know, we’re the church, but you know what I mean. We taught in our kids classes and found other ways to serve together. We were constantly connected to a small group and shared our hearts with peers and with those who were further down the road than we were.
Maybe my friend did, too and it just didn’t work out. But in our case, it’s amazing to realize how faithful God has been to us with the little we have given Him to work with. Sometimes love was just a decision on our part. And God’s unfailing love has had everything in the world to do with it.
Confessions of a Room Mother
It started innocently enough. I was a stay at home mom. I had the time. I had the desire. I had the hand painted t-shirt dress with matching hair bow and coordinating tennis shoes. I couldn’t sign my name to the classroom volunteer list fast enough. Soon I was helping with Matt’s kindergarten parties, and going on field trips. Three-year-old Scott was the perfect tag-along.
Someone in PTA noticed, and before I knew what had happened, I was taking yearbook orders and spraying disinfectant in old roller skates on fund raiser night at the rink. By the time the boys were in first and third grades, Drew and I were PTA presidents. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, unless you did it for the reasons I did.
I had considered doing the PTA officer thing later on, say when the boys were in 3rd and 5th grades. But someone from the nominating committee pulled me aside and said, “If you do it now, the principal will see that your kids get the best teachers all the way through sixth grade.” That got my attention. What mother didn’t want her kids to have the best teachers? Written requests for specific teachers were frowned upon. It was the only way.
Have you ever signed up to be in charge of something ‘for your children’, only to look up and realize that your own kids are miserable, your house is a wreck, and your husband doesn’t seem to enjoy doing the laundry as much as he used to? That pretty much sums up August ‘89 through February 1990. In March, we were transferred to Dallas. So much for my plan to have the best teachers lined up for the next 5 years.
God taught me several things through that experience. I learned that it’s the moms, not the kids who care if the napkins match the cups that match the plates that match the snack. (Can I have an AMEN, sister Shipley?) And even though Matt got the most requested teacher that year, it wasn’t the best situation for him. I learned to ask God to place the boys where He wanted them to be. Imagine that!
I don’t want to discourage you from volunteering at school. We had several opportunities to be a part of the activities our kids have enjoyed. It was a great way to meet their friends’ parents. It helped us appreciate the time and effort teachers, coaches and band directors put into our kids. A lot of money was raised for some very good causes.
But it wasn’t until the boys were in middle school and high school that I learned the most effective way for me to volunteer. Sara Snyder introduced me to Moms in Touch prayer ministry. I can’t begin to tell you the peace that brought to me as they began to choose their own class schedules, school activities, friends and dates. There were tryouts and projects and big tests and broken hearts, and even a few bomb threats, as I remember. We know the positive results. But who knows how many evils avoided our kids because we were praying?
Note to young moms: Before you sign up for anything, please prayerfully consider giving one hour a week to pray with another mom for your child. I could have saved myself so much anxiety and burnout if I had known about MITI sooner. Ask me about it. Ask Sara. Better yet, ask Matt, Scott, Evan, Erin or Ian. The fact that they knew every week, other moms were coming together to pray for them was powerful.
Once you have made that a priority, I promise, the Spirit will give you direction as you choose more visible ways to connect with your child and their school. You will be blessed, not burdened by the time you give. If you’re not able to volunteer for the carnival, someone else will do it. But if you’re not praying for your child, who is?
Someone in PTA noticed, and before I knew what had happened, I was taking yearbook orders and spraying disinfectant in old roller skates on fund raiser night at the rink. By the time the boys were in first and third grades, Drew and I were PTA presidents. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, unless you did it for the reasons I did.
I had considered doing the PTA officer thing later on, say when the boys were in 3rd and 5th grades. But someone from the nominating committee pulled me aside and said, “If you do it now, the principal will see that your kids get the best teachers all the way through sixth grade.” That got my attention. What mother didn’t want her kids to have the best teachers? Written requests for specific teachers were frowned upon. It was the only way.
Have you ever signed up to be in charge of something ‘for your children’, only to look up and realize that your own kids are miserable, your house is a wreck, and your husband doesn’t seem to enjoy doing the laundry as much as he used to? That pretty much sums up August ‘89 through February 1990. In March, we were transferred to Dallas. So much for my plan to have the best teachers lined up for the next 5 years.
God taught me several things through that experience. I learned that it’s the moms, not the kids who care if the napkins match the cups that match the plates that match the snack. (Can I have an AMEN, sister Shipley?) And even though Matt got the most requested teacher that year, it wasn’t the best situation for him. I learned to ask God to place the boys where He wanted them to be. Imagine that!
I don’t want to discourage you from volunteering at school. We had several opportunities to be a part of the activities our kids have enjoyed. It was a great way to meet their friends’ parents. It helped us appreciate the time and effort teachers, coaches and band directors put into our kids. A lot of money was raised for some very good causes.
But it wasn’t until the boys were in middle school and high school that I learned the most effective way for me to volunteer. Sara Snyder introduced me to Moms in Touch prayer ministry. I can’t begin to tell you the peace that brought to me as they began to choose their own class schedules, school activities, friends and dates. There were tryouts and projects and big tests and broken hearts, and even a few bomb threats, as I remember. We know the positive results. But who knows how many evils avoided our kids because we were praying?
Note to young moms: Before you sign up for anything, please prayerfully consider giving one hour a week to pray with another mom for your child. I could have saved myself so much anxiety and burnout if I had known about MITI sooner. Ask me about it. Ask Sara. Better yet, ask Matt, Scott, Evan, Erin or Ian. The fact that they knew every week, other moms were coming together to pray for them was powerful.
Once you have made that a priority, I promise, the Spirit will give you direction as you choose more visible ways to connect with your child and their school. You will be blessed, not burdened by the time you give. If you’re not able to volunteer for the carnival, someone else will do it. But if you’re not praying for your child, who is?
Why Did I Bother to Come?
On any given Sunday at RE, there are 4 prayer ministers in the library, 12 tappers in Bible Hour, and *4,738 parents roaming the foyer with crying infants and restless toddlers, wondering, “Why did I bother coming to church today?” (*These are actual figures based on Sheridan Umphress’ weekly observations.)
Having survived that time in my life, I am here to offer hope and encouragement by listing the 8 stages of sitting in the auditorium with children.
Stage 1 - The baby’s clothes match the blanket which coordinates with the monogrammed burp cloth. The parents gaze lovingly at their sleeping angel for the duration of the assembly hour. This stage lasts approximately 20 minutes.
Stage 2 - Baby throws up on mom’s shoulder as she is walking to the car. Determined parents return to the house, change giggling baby, and decide to try again. No aisle seats to be found in auditorium. Mom feels a warm oozing from baby’s diaper and plans classic action law suit against Pampers Corporation as they give up and go home.
Stage 3 - The bag is loaded with books, toys, crackers, Cheerios, juice, wipes, a pacifier, a blankie and pull-ups. Bible Hour is cancelled, and the only snack they want is in the communion trays. Each toy offered is rejected with a resounding “NO!” except for your car keys which are flung over the balcony.
Stage 4 - A friend is invited to sit with your child on the row next to and eventually
Stage 5 - in front of parents.
Stage 6 - Your child is invited to sit with a trusted family. (Gypsies will do.)
Stage 7 - Our boys knew when they sat with the youth group this
meant that they had to sit where they could see our faces. If they were caught laughing or passing notes, they would receive, “THE LOOK.” Heaven knows, church is no place to have fun.
Stage 8 - At some point, your teen may refuse to come. Parents sit heartbroken, wishing they were back in stage 3. This stage is strictly optional.
Why bother to come?
You are establishing a pattern that will bless your family for generations to come. It’s worth it. You are setting an example for other young couples who are watching and learning from you. It’s worth it. You are encouraging the rest of us by letting us have a glimpse of the future of the church. It’s worth it.
We might need to reframe our thinking a bit. Maybe you see a runaway toddler in the foyer. I prefer to see a missionary in training! Are those crying babies in the observation nursery or praise team tryouts? You tell me. That rowdy bunch of 5th grade boys will probably be elders when they grow up. (Everyone stop for just a minute and get a mental picture of Charlie Broom as a 5th grader in church!)
Some day your shoulders will not smell like spit up. You will be able to sit through an entire service, uninterrupted. Next thing you know, you’ll be looking around for a baby to borrow. Until then, don’t be afraid to borrow an ‘aunt’ or an ‘uncle’ to sit with you and give you a break.
Hang in there. It’s worth it!
Having survived that time in my life, I am here to offer hope and encouragement by listing the 8 stages of sitting in the auditorium with children.
Stage 1 - The baby’s clothes match the blanket which coordinates with the monogrammed burp cloth. The parents gaze lovingly at their sleeping angel for the duration of the assembly hour. This stage lasts approximately 20 minutes.
Stage 2 - Baby throws up on mom’s shoulder as she is walking to the car. Determined parents return to the house, change giggling baby, and decide to try again. No aisle seats to be found in auditorium. Mom feels a warm oozing from baby’s diaper and plans classic action law suit against Pampers Corporation as they give up and go home.
Stage 3 - The bag is loaded with books, toys, crackers, Cheerios, juice, wipes, a pacifier, a blankie and pull-ups. Bible Hour is cancelled, and the only snack they want is in the communion trays. Each toy offered is rejected with a resounding “NO!” except for your car keys which are flung over the balcony.
Stage 4 - A friend is invited to sit with your child on the row next to and eventually
Stage 5 - in front of parents.
Stage 6 - Your child is invited to sit with a trusted family. (Gypsies will do.)
Stage 7 - Our boys knew when they sat with the youth group this
meant that they had to sit where they could see our faces. If they were caught laughing or passing notes, they would receive, “THE LOOK.” Heaven knows, church is no place to have fun.
Stage 8 - At some point, your teen may refuse to come. Parents sit heartbroken, wishing they were back in stage 3. This stage is strictly optional.
Why bother to come?
You are establishing a pattern that will bless your family for generations to come. It’s worth it. You are setting an example for other young couples who are watching and learning from you. It’s worth it. You are encouraging the rest of us by letting us have a glimpse of the future of the church. It’s worth it.
We might need to reframe our thinking a bit. Maybe you see a runaway toddler in the foyer. I prefer to see a missionary in training! Are those crying babies in the observation nursery or praise team tryouts? You tell me. That rowdy bunch of 5th grade boys will probably be elders when they grow up. (Everyone stop for just a minute and get a mental picture of Charlie Broom as a 5th grader in church!)
Some day your shoulders will not smell like spit up. You will be able to sit through an entire service, uninterrupted. Next thing you know, you’ll be looking around for a baby to borrow. Until then, don’t be afraid to borrow an ‘aunt’ or an ‘uncle’ to sit with you and give you a break.
Hang in there. It’s worth it!
A Miserable Merry Christmas
If Santa had wrapped his own gifts, I wouldn’t be telling this. But, as we all know, he places his gifts under the tree and in your stockings with nothing but a smile. That’s how you know it’s from Santa. Am I right, or am I right?
Go back to Abilene with me. The year is 1985 and our boys are 4 and 2. We’re broke. (Okay, so that’s true of every year that decade, but stay that’s another article.) Matt is totally in to Santa Clause and he wants walkie talkies. Scott couldn’t care less, but he likes to hear himself say, “wawkie wawkie”. Fortunately, I have a rebate coupon from Toys R Us. Got’em early and got ‘em hidden in a paper sack in the top of the closet. No long lines. No rain checks. No problem! I smile and nod approvingly as people ask Matt what he wants Santa to bring him. Same answer. It’s all about the walkie talkies.
Years earlier, my parents, sister and I established a tradition of stuffing stockings/grocery sacks. Throughout the year, we look for interesting inexpensive little things to amaze and delight each other on Christmas morning. Even my dad had fun with it. I smile even now as I think of the cases of duct tape, electrical tape and masking tape I’ve collected from him over the years.
To this day, it’s a touchy subject, so suffice it to say that we disagreed on where to spend the holidays that year. My parents lived in Austin, 4 hours south. Drew’s dad lived in Sherman, 4 hours east. I had the only grandkids on my side of the family. We hadn’t been with Drew’s dad for Christmas morning in a while, so we decided to take Santa on the road. If you have ever done that, then you know the challenges of explaining how Santa will find your family, and then hiding the unwrapped presents in the car. I loaded up the boys while Drew packed the minivan.
Now that I have time to reflect on the experience, I have to admit that I was a bit smug about my shopping victory. Mothers would ring their hands over the Cabbage Patch scramble. It’s the only thing their little girl had asked for. Hmmm, too bad. I already have the boys’ gift from Santa. Did that back in October. Coupon. Maybe that’s why that trip from Abilene to Sherman to Austin and back is now what we refer to as The Bermuda Triangle.
We arrived in Sherman Christmas Eve. As Drew was bringing in our luggage, I saw him unload the sack of stocking stuffers for my family, but I didn’t see…
”Drew! Where are the presents from S-A-N-T-A?” Confusion mixed with exhaustion produced the irritation in his voice as he replied,
“I don’t know. Where did you put them?”
“They’re in the paper sack that was sitting by the front door.”
I’ll save you the details, but we threw the kids at Papa Mac and ran out the door. This was Sherman twenty years ago. They had Piggly Wiggly and Gibson’s and neither one had any walkie talkies. McKinney’s shopping options were even fewer and Allen wasn’t even on the map. We drove to the Toys R Us at Central and Parker in Plano. Toys R Us on Christmas Eve. Let that image sink in for a second while Drew and I run around the store and find the last set of walkie talkies. Expensive, grown-up walkie talkies. No coupon. Thank goodness for Bubba’s Beer and Bait shop, because we realized around midnight that we didn’t have batteries, either.
The day after Christmas, we drove to Austin. As we unloaded the van, I had a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Drew! Where is the sack of stocking stuffers?!” My dad walked out to the garage just in time to see me burst into tears and tell him we’d be back in an hour or so.
At least this time we were shopping the After Christmas sales. Drew didn’t seem to think that was such a bonus. He gets a little testy when he doesn’t find a parking place within the first hour or so. What happened next was right out of Gone with the Wind. Drew stepped out of the van, raised his fist to the air and vowed, “As God as my witness…I will never spend Christmas on the road again!” (Good news. I found these little nifty rubber traps to fit over the drain in the sink to catch hair and forks and stuff.)
Over the years, he’s modified that comment a bit. Grandparents were invited to join us, but before we went anywhere, we did our own thing at home.
Cost of food for additional family members - $57.00
Increase in water and utility bills - $42.00
Celebrating Christmas under your very own tree – Priceless!
p.s. Need any tape?
Go back to Abilene with me. The year is 1985 and our boys are 4 and 2. We’re broke. (Okay, so that’s true of every year that decade, but stay that’s another article.) Matt is totally in to Santa Clause and he wants walkie talkies. Scott couldn’t care less, but he likes to hear himself say, “wawkie wawkie”. Fortunately, I have a rebate coupon from Toys R Us. Got’em early and got ‘em hidden in a paper sack in the top of the closet. No long lines. No rain checks. No problem! I smile and nod approvingly as people ask Matt what he wants Santa to bring him. Same answer. It’s all about the walkie talkies.
Years earlier, my parents, sister and I established a tradition of stuffing stockings/grocery sacks. Throughout the year, we look for interesting inexpensive little things to amaze and delight each other on Christmas morning. Even my dad had fun with it. I smile even now as I think of the cases of duct tape, electrical tape and masking tape I’ve collected from him over the years.
To this day, it’s a touchy subject, so suffice it to say that we disagreed on where to spend the holidays that year. My parents lived in Austin, 4 hours south. Drew’s dad lived in Sherman, 4 hours east. I had the only grandkids on my side of the family. We hadn’t been with Drew’s dad for Christmas morning in a while, so we decided to take Santa on the road. If you have ever done that, then you know the challenges of explaining how Santa will find your family, and then hiding the unwrapped presents in the car. I loaded up the boys while Drew packed the minivan.
Now that I have time to reflect on the experience, I have to admit that I was a bit smug about my shopping victory. Mothers would ring their hands over the Cabbage Patch scramble. It’s the only thing their little girl had asked for. Hmmm, too bad. I already have the boys’ gift from Santa. Did that back in October. Coupon. Maybe that’s why that trip from Abilene to Sherman to Austin and back is now what we refer to as The Bermuda Triangle.
We arrived in Sherman Christmas Eve. As Drew was bringing in our luggage, I saw him unload the sack of stocking stuffers for my family, but I didn’t see…
”Drew! Where are the presents from S-A-N-T-A?” Confusion mixed with exhaustion produced the irritation in his voice as he replied,
“I don’t know. Where did you put them?”
“They’re in the paper sack that was sitting by the front door.”
I’ll save you the details, but we threw the kids at Papa Mac and ran out the door. This was Sherman twenty years ago. They had Piggly Wiggly and Gibson’s and neither one had any walkie talkies. McKinney’s shopping options were even fewer and Allen wasn’t even on the map. We drove to the Toys R Us at Central and Parker in Plano. Toys R Us on Christmas Eve. Let that image sink in for a second while Drew and I run around the store and find the last set of walkie talkies. Expensive, grown-up walkie talkies. No coupon. Thank goodness for Bubba’s Beer and Bait shop, because we realized around midnight that we didn’t have batteries, either.
The day after Christmas, we drove to Austin. As we unloaded the van, I had a familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Drew! Where is the sack of stocking stuffers?!” My dad walked out to the garage just in time to see me burst into tears and tell him we’d be back in an hour or so.
At least this time we were shopping the After Christmas sales. Drew didn’t seem to think that was such a bonus. He gets a little testy when he doesn’t find a parking place within the first hour or so. What happened next was right out of Gone with the Wind. Drew stepped out of the van, raised his fist to the air and vowed, “As God as my witness…I will never spend Christmas on the road again!” (Good news. I found these little nifty rubber traps to fit over the drain in the sink to catch hair and forks and stuff.)
Over the years, he’s modified that comment a bit. Grandparents were invited to join us, but before we went anywhere, we did our own thing at home.
Cost of food for additional family members - $57.00
Increase in water and utility bills - $42.00
Celebrating Christmas under your very own tree – Priceless!
p.s. Need any tape?
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