Dec 26 2006
Wet and Marooned on Christmas Eve
I started this post on Christmas Eve, using a cheap motel restroom as an office. Door closed to keep the light and noise from distracting our three-year-old son Ben from the task at hand (falling asleep), the tiny room provided much-needed respite within range of the nearest wireless access point.
“Ben, lie down and go to sleep,” Shannon said. She lay on one of the full-size beds, Ben on the other.
I wondered, Should I go out there? I decided to stay and see what happened. Finding it hard to concentrate on writing, I caught up on my reading and replied to a few days-old comments. After a few minutes, I noticed that I hadn’t heard anything out of…
Ben babbled some nonsense in a sing-song voice.
“You don’t have to go to sleep, but be quiet so I can go to sleep,” Shannon said in a perturbed voice.
A moment later came a light tap on the restroom door. “Yes?” I asked.
The door opened slowly and nudged the back of my laptop LCD. Shannon poked her head through the small gap in the doorway.
“I knew you were in here on the computer. What are you doing?” she asked.
“Just catching up on a few things.”
“Can you not tell I could use your help out here?”
“I’m just hitting ‘Submit’ on a comment. I’ll be right out.”
I clicked the aforementioned virtual button and shutdown the laptop, then quietly tucked it into its case before climbing in bed next to Ben. He had become accustomed to sleeping with both or one of us during the trip, so I chose the path of least resistance right out of the gate. Within a few minutes, the boy was indeed both quiet and still, and I didn’t notice anything again until morning.
Had the stars aligned and I somehow had remained seated in the restroom, here’s what I might have typed:
We left my parents’ house at about 3:45 p.m. on Sunday. It was about 55 degrees with light rain, and we couldn’t wait to get back home. We would thaw out and bake enough of the white chocolate Macadamia nut cookie dough for the red-suited fat man, read “‘Twas the Night Before Christmas,” as has become our tradition with Ben, and then dream of large sugar plumbs (whatever they are).
For the first time, Ben was old enough to be truly excited about Christmas, and that had rubbed off on us. We knew he would beam at the sight of a full stocking and a Christmas tree surrounded by gifts from the jolly old elf. We would beam at his beaming.
Unfortunately, about an hour into the trip, the rain picked up. Driving in it made Shannon nervous, and I had taken a nap after two sleep-inducing convenience store corn dogs. I drove for the next hour, my own nerves on edge as the steering wheel constantly jerked my hands. The front tires were losing and then regaining their grip on the road several times per minute. I had hydroplaned in a car before, but this constant off/on was unlike anything I’d experienced.
We called ahead to Shannon’s mom for a weather update. Apparently we weren’t going to drive out of the heavy rain soon, and waiting it out where we were would take several hours if not all night.
“I wanted Ben to wake up in our house on Christmas morning. That was the whole reason we left your parents’ house today,” Shannon said.
“I know. I’m just not comfortable driving with the front wheels doing this.”
I knew it might be as simple as rotating or replacing the front tires to get some fresher treads up there diverting the water, but no place in the tiny hamlet of New Boston, Texas was open for that particular service. Even Wal-Mart, the king of staying open 24 hours, had closed early on Christmas Eve.
Next stop: local motel.
(continue to the next part, “Motel, Rations, and Ralphie“)
And here I thought I was going to get to enjoy sharing one of the only sob stories of the Christmas season… at least both of ours involve water. Your was coming down, mine was coming up. It’s almost like we’re brothers from different mothers or something.
Maybe I’ll have time to write more tomorrow evening after we get all our stuff washed at the laundromat.
Merry Christmas!
Christmas is in the heart bud.. as I’m sure you know. It’s not in a place…or a gift.
I’m glad you opted for safety, and I don’t think Ben minded too much.
Can’t wait to hear the rest….
Simon - Yikes! It sounds like your encounter with double-h-o was of a much less pleasant variety. I’m sure it will go down with the birthing adventure as another (insert Simon’s last name here) classic. Except, because it lacks the whole introducing a new life to this complex and ever-changing world, it might not.
Dave - Yep, that’s exactly where it is, and we found that out after a few hurdles.
Dave, that is so true. Even though we were disappointed, all that mattered in the end is that we were together and we were all safe.
Simon, can’t wait to hear your tale of woe - sounds pretty sucky!
Dave said it best, but I’ll second (or third, since Shannon already seconded) the sentiment…Christmas was right there in that bed with you, Mark…no matter where you were. I’m just glad ya’ll are safe.
Also…I could copy and paste the “getting in trouble for playing on the blogs when you’re supposed to be helping” dialogue into my blog on a nearly daily basis. We may have switched from “Just let me finish this level, Mom” to “Just let me finish this comment, honey,” but it seems we’re still the same little boys playing with our high tech toys. ;)
Si - Sorry to hear you had an agua-incident as well. I’m hoping everything turns out ok up your way.
I’m feeling sort of guilty for having no water related mishaps over my Christmas. But, in the spirit of brotherhood, I shall try. Moonshot’s folks have well water with tons of sulfur in it. It smells bad and doesn’t taste particulalry wonderful either. So, when I visit, I find myself reaching for soda and beer and coffee more often than I’m used to. I always return a bit dehyrated and iggly in my stomach. So…uh…I guess I too…um…had a… “similar” experience.
Nice reach there, Moksha (rolling eyes). We’re terribly sorry for your “iggly” stomach - must have been pretty traumatic for you. Sorry, I guess I’m feeling a bit smart-assy today. Please forgive me! :-) Hope you had a great Christmas besides that!
But seriously, you boys need to tone it down with your toys - know what I’m sayin’?
BTW, I really like the word “iggly” - mind if I borrow it from time to time? I’ll only use it when appropriate, I promise.
Shan - Thanks for your concern about my stomach. I’m drinking some water as I type this and I hope to make a full recovery soon :) I’ll keep you posted.
You are, of course, welcome to use “iggly” (appropriately or otherwise) so long as you don’t make Mark tone down on his blogging TOO much. We like having him here and are willing to compensate you for your husband-less time with clever new words for your amusement. I hope it’s enough…for I have no other gift to bring (pa rum pum pum pum).
You guys are cracking me up. For the record, I did better last night. I got to bed at about 11:30.
Having spent our first five years as a family in the Navy, it seems we were always traveling on the holidays. You just have to bring the baby “home” for Christmas was our family’s annual theme. We could never convince them that to us, “home” is where the three of us happened to be, not where we came from or were going.
Moksha - Maybe we’ll figure out a way to get all our blog action in without worrying the wives.
Blitz - We found that to be the case more than we expected.
Ditto, ditto, ditto, etc.
Guess there is going to have to be an Internet Widows and Widowers Chapter meeting soon. PD will gladly serve as Advisor…
Thanks for sharing