For the record, our marriage wouldn't have dissolved over a Christmas letter.
This morning was no good. Ever since Matthew, we've turned into those people. Those people that are perpetually ten minutes late. Those people who drive me crazy with their blatant disregard for schedules. Those people that we have, apparently, turned into. At best we are right on time. Rarely are we early anymore. And I don't mean to say that it's all Matthew's fault but, well, it just seems that adding an extra human being has made it next to impossible to get out of here on time. It doesn't matter if I get up early. It doesn't matter because two minutes before we are supposed to leave there will, inevitably, be a sudden rush of regurgitated formula that covers the child and the car seat and leaves me unable to get out of the house 120 seconds later. Or there will be a blow out diaper. Or Garrett will suddenly have to go poop which, I realize, has nothing to do with the baby but still. The kid sometimes poops like an adult male who needs a magazine rack to do his business.
So, last night I told Troy that I would not be late to bible study this morning. I had a resolution. We were through being ten minutes late. He responded, "Why not wait three weeks? That way you have your New Year's resolution." But I've never been good at keeping New Year's resolution and it was driving me nuts so I opted to start today.
I should have listened to my husband.
I set my alarm for fifteen minutes earlier than normal. I was going to be out of the house at 8:45 and get to the church at 9:00 for a 9:15 bible study. At 8:45, I walked out the door. I'd even remembered to turn on the car a few minutes before hand so that we didn't all freeze to death.
Last night Troy took the Santa Fe to the car wash because he planned to take it today for it's smog and safety inspection. Our registration is due in December. I know. What a horrid month for registration to come due. Anyway. He wanted it to be clean and pretty and all ready for its inspection so he had it washed. We knew it was cold but we didn't know that it was -1. My brain can't even comprehend the words "negative" and "one" in reference to weather. That's just crazy talk.
So this morning I tried to leave. On time. And my car would go no where. I tried to back it up and it simply wouldn't go. It was like I was trying to run over a bull mastiff. I stood in the 20 degree weather and tried to figure out the problem. There were blocks of ice attached to the metal thingies that connect the wheels to the car. Neat. Moral of this particular story: It's maybe not a great idea to wash your car in -1 degree weather.
I was late to bible study. I was grumpy. It set the tone for a great morning that culminated in Troy and I sitting in his office attempting to make our Christmas letter fit on the page. I have a rule that my letter has to fit on the front of one page. I just don't think anyone wants to read anything longer than that. I mean, it is our crazy family. One page is plenty. Anyway, Matthew was being grumpy, Garrett wasn't behaving, Troy's phone kept ringing, Garrett kept threatening to wreck one of the Christmas play props, and my entire family was standing on each other's very last nerve. It's not their fault. I was standing on nerves, too. And I was attempting to do the mambo. Finally after tweaking and cutting and rearranging, we made it work. In size eleven font. It's miniscule. Tiny. We went with it anyway.
The secretary suggested that it was, maybe, just possibly, in case I hadn't noticed, pretty, uh, little. To which I replied that we were going to go with it anyway, on account of the fact that I didn't want my marriage to dissolve.
But, like I said, it would take a lot more than that for our marriage to dissolve. And, hopefully, the recipients of our Christmas letter own microscopes or magnifying glasses.