It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... Christmas. In Kansas, we are outposted at least three hours from our nearest relative, and each season, we are the ones who hit the road. We switch off each year for each of our families-- so every other year we wake up in our own home on Christmas. This was that year, so we did get to wake up at home and then head to Hubs' family.
Unfortunately, because Christmas was on a Thursday, and we customarily go to the "other" family the weekend after Christmas, it meant a whirlwind tour, spanning nearly 1,000 miles in five days.
Can I just say that I am pooped?
Our kids did great, though, and dealt with the changes in routine and locale like champs (for the most part.) While each of the four of us had our moments of less-than-holiday-spirit, we stuck together and dealt with almost everything as a team.
But when I think about doing this next year, with another baby... I can't even fathom it.
I don't know how much longer we will be able to uproot our whole lives and drive to everyone else's Christmas. As much as I love my family, and he loves his, we also love our family, and it definitely gets placed last in the current configuration.
My kids were begging for Kansas by yesterday. Begging. They love their family, too, but they love their home. And nowhere is the spirit of holiday and love more present than in your own home, right?
What do you do? How do you manuever that? No matter which route we go, we miss out on something... I don't know.