Surprise!

At long last - it's the Christmas post! And it only took me until Valentine's Day to get it up! My New Year's Resolution: work out a deal with the Universe that extends every day to 30 hours.

WARNING: This is long. Read at the risk of spending the next hour staring at this screen.

It was only July, but I was disappointed when I realized that we just weren't going to be able to afford the trip to the U.S. for Christmas. I had never spent a Christmas away from home. Even when I did my study abroad, I flew out of England on December 22nd and was home in plenty of time for that very snowy Christmas.

So I started preparing myself in July. I mentally started listing all of the nice things about spending Christmas here in Stratford-upon-Avon. I chatted with my neighbour, who is from New Zealand and has spent many Christmases away from home. She invited us to Christmas dinner at her house. I thought about what a relaxing holiday it would be, with no long drives, no overtired, overstimulated kids, no clothes or toys to schlep from household to household. I thought about the meal we would have, one that would be perfect because it would be tailored to us and us alone. I thought about the quiet week that we would have, with no harried visits or last-minute trips to that dreadfully packed mall to pick up a quick gift for a forgotten party guest. I thought about the way that a Christmas in England might actually solidify this dark and rainy place as Home.

I spent months focussing on the positives, convincing myself that a nice quiet Christmas in England would actually be quite pleasant.

But there were still times when I struggled with the idea of being so far away from home and family.

My disappointment flared when I heard that my brother-in-law, Dan, had suggested a theme for my mom's annual dinner: Ugly Christmas Sweaters. How on earth was it possible that we were going to miss out on the chance to find the most hideous Christmas sweater and wear it proudly beside my family, each clad in their own absurd discovery? It seemed unnatural that we would be missing such an event.

And I was saddenend when I my mom told me of her plans for Christmas dinner, how she would be setting up the tables and what she would be serving (not that I would actually eat the primary parts of the meal, what with the turkey and the ham stealing the limelight). It was hard to listen to her describe what her Christmas tree looked like this year, and how she was trying to figure out where to hang all of the Christmas stockings (my mom makes up a stocking for each of her children, each of her son-in-laws, and each of her grandchildren).

And Eric and the kids still hadn't met Isabella, our newest neice.

Despite the moments of longing for a Christmas not in England, I knew it was going to be okay. We were going to have a nice quiet, relaxing holiday, and a Christmas with three small toddlers was sure to be fun wherever it happened.

We got our Christmas tree, and we decorated it.

We hung up our stockings on one of our many fireplaces.

We painted paper Christmas trees, we made the dinner menu, we counted presents, we told Rhys about the Christmas pickle, we wondered what Santa would bring, and we got excited.

It was two-and-a-half weeks before Christmas, and I was finally comfortable with the idea of our nice quiet holiday at home when...

"Did you know that Rhys's nursery school Christmas concert was on the 21st?"

"Yes. It was in the newsletter."

"Oh. I wish I had known that before."

"I know, you're not going to be here. You said you have some meeting at the theatre in London."

"Well, she's not going to be here, either."

"What?"

"And you're not going to be here either."

"What?"

"We're going to be in a different country."

"What?!?"

"We're going home."

I think it was at right about that point that I burst into tears. Because I had two weeks to pack us and get us ready for a 10-day trip to the U.S. Because I had a ton of stuff to do and not nearly enough time to do it. Because I had no idea how the heck we were going to pay for the trip. Because I had finally gotten myself excited about a nice quiet Christmas as home.

Eric explained that he needed to go to D.C. to see the new automation system in the Shakespeare Theatre Company's new space. Because it was a work-related trip, the RSC would pay for it. Eric carefully planned the trip for the Christmas holidays, and then managed to convince his employer that instead of paying for a hotel and rental car, they should cover my plane ticket. And so, with only the kids' tickets to fund, we were off to the U.S.

Only a few people knew we coming. My sister, Kimmy, knew because we were staying at her house. My sister, Di, knew because we couldn't figure out a sneaky way to tell her not to send the kids' Christmas gifts. Eric's mom knew because Eric had asked to borrow her van. And that was it.

Rhys was unbelievably excited.

"Are we going on a trip to Aunt Kimmy's house today?"

"Not today, Rhys. Soon."

We had this conversation everyday.

On the morning of December 21st, we woke the kids up at 4:30 in the morning.

"Rhys, it's time to get up."

"Errr."

"It's time to take a trip to Aunt Kimmy's house."

And suddenly she was wide awake and ripping her pajamas off.

We boarded our plane and by 9:30am, we were airbound for the States. We had a layover in Newark, NJ, and due to high winds, the outbound flights were significantly delayed. The kids were holding up very well until Rhys just couldn't take it anymore. She stood in the middle of a very crowded gate area and wailed at the top of her lungs.

"I want to go to Aunt Kimmy's house!"

"Soon, Rhys, soon."

"I want to go to Aunt Kimmy's house!"

"As soon as the airplane gets here, Rhys."

"I want to go to Aunt Kimmy's house RIGHT NOOOOOOWWWWWW!"

When they finally boarded us, she ran down the hallway to the airplane. She happily let us buckle her into her seat, and we promised that we would see Aunt Kimmy soon. As the plane took off, she called out in the relatively quiet plane,

"AUNT KIMMY, WE'RE COMING!"

"I don't think she can hear you, honey."

"Should I yell louder, Mom?"

"No, honey, I don't think she'll be able to hear you, even if you yell more loudly."

"Okay, Mom." And then she whispered rather loudly, "Aunt Kimmy, we're coming!"

Eric's mom picked us up at Dulles. On the way back to Eric's parents' house, Eric used his mom's cell phone to start calling his local siblings. One of Eric's sisters, Pam, was chatting away until it finally dawned on her: "Hey, you're calling from Mom's phone!"

"Go to Mom and Dad's house. We'll be there in about 45 minutes."

We visited with Eric's surprised family for a few hours. Eric and the kids got to meet Isabella. Desi would point and say "Baby", but she didn't want to go anywhere near her. Rhys, on the other hand, couldn't get enough of her.

After a few hours, we drove our very tired selves to Kimmy and Brad's house and crashed for the night.

The following day was Saturday: the day of the Ugly Christmas Sweater. Di and Kimmy had planned very carefully, and after a couple of trips to the local Goodwill, they'd managed to secure hideous Christmas attire for each of us. Everyone was supposed to be gathering at my parents house around 2:00pm. And still, none of my family knew we were there.

My parents have a very long driveway and a dog, so generally speaking, my parents are well aware of the arrival of visitors long before they appear at the door. But such an announcement of our presence would have ruined the surprise. So we plotted carefully, and after tossing around several ideas, we settled on one that would get us into the house without alerting my parents.

When we were ready to go, Kimmy called my parents house and told Di that we were on our way. Di told Mom, Dad and Missy (my sister) that Kimmy and Brad were on their way over with a huge Christmas present that they wanted to get into the house discreetly, and Di quickly shooed them into the laundry room.

With Mom, Dad and Missy safely tucked into the laundry room, Di forewarned everyone who had already arrived: "Kimmy and Brad are bringing a surprise. Mom and Dad don't know. Don't react. Whatever you do, don't react!"

My Uncle Rick, who is my godfather, said, "I think I know what it is."

Di gave him a questioning look. "What?"

"It's Jenni and Eric."

Di didn't deny or confirm his answer, simply reiterated, "Don't react!"

We arrived quietly. We snuck through the kitchen, giving quiet hugs and kisses to the family that was there, shushing the kids. Ben and Desi were a tad overwhelmed with all the people, so they were quiet, but Rhys was ready to explode!

We sat in the folding chairs that had been set up across from the laundry room door, and Di opened the door.

Neither Mom nor Dad were actually looking towards the door, and Missy was hidden in the room. When Mom finally looked over and caught a glimpse of us, she yelled "Oh my god!" and came running to dish out hugs. There were kisses and hugs and tears (mostly mine because I am The Biggest Sap on the Face of the Planet). It was all caught on film, but Di has yet to send me the video, so you'll just have to use your imagination.

Dad was dishing out hugs, but we could tell that it hadn't really sunk in yet. His Alzheimer's is more apparent now, and it can often take him awhile to catch up with the situation. We'd been at my parents' house for nearly half an hour before it hit him. We'd taken off our coats, re-hashed the reasons we'd managed to make the trip, and hugged everyone there. I was in the kitchen making some attempt to rearrange Mom's buffet so that Ben and Desi were demolishing the fruits and vegetables instead of the cheese when Dad wandering into the kitchen. He was crying, and when I hugged him, he sort of choked on his words, "I'm so glad you guys are here." (And now we have the evidence to prove that Jenni's sappiness is genetic.)

Later in the afternoon, one of my aunts came up to me and told me how obvious Dad's excitement was. Alzheimer's can do funny things to a person, and large groups can throw Dad off. He'll be obligingly present for awhile, though he's not terribly social, and then he disappears, usually to his bedroom or the room where he works on his model cars.

"Your dad is really happy you're here."

"I know."

"He'd already disappeared before you guys got here. Now he's down here, he's talking to people, and he's laughing. It's really good."

It was really good.

We ate lots of food (I'd made all of our vegetarian varieties at Kimmy's house that morning; I know Mom wouldn't be culinarily prepared for us since she didn't know we were coming!). We caught up with my family. Di an Ben took a nap:

And we got to participate in the Ugly Christmas Sweater Extravaganza!

There was even a prize for the Ugliest Sweater:

My brother-in-law, Dan, got a Kohl's gift card for his efforts.

Mom had a moment when it was time to open presents.

"I shipped the kids' presents to England!"

At least that's what she thought. Kimmy had volunteered to ship Mom's box under the guise that she wanted to add some things to it before she sent it. She opened it, wrapped everything, and stashed it. Eric's mom used the same technique with his side of the family. Those sneaky relatives of ours!

The rest of the trip was relatively quiet, but there's always a mishaps or two when you're travelling with a flock of small children.

And this time around it was Ben.

He managed to catch a really nasty bug, most likely on the airplane, and it gave him a fever of 104 and caused his brochial tubes to swell. He was having such a hard time breathing that we ended up in the emergency room on Christmas Day. They took a chest x-ray, gave us some antibiotics, and sent us home. By midnight we were back in the ER because his breathing was worse. They gave him breathing treatment after breathing treatment, and this they waited until he was clearly breathing easier before they sent us home with a nebeulizer. He's all better now.

Aside from our multiple trips to the ER, the rest of the holiday was delightfully quiet. Christmas morning brought more presents from Santa, and when we weren't at the hospital, the day was spent playing with all of the toys.

Scientific evidence: a fever of 104 has absolutely no impact on a

two-year-old's love of all things sugary and delicious.

Eric and the girls spent the day after Christmas with his family while I stayed home with Ben. It was disappointing that we couldn't spend the day with them, but we wanted to make sure that Ben was okay before we exposed everyone to his cooties. We managed to spend the following Saturday with them, which was nice. (And apparently I forgot my camera because I have absolutley no pictures of that day. Criminal!)

The rest of the week was spent playing and lounging around Kimmy and Brad's house.

Who wouldn't want a fairy dress or a superhero costume for Christmas?

Rhys leading a rousing game of Ring Around the Rosie, or

brother-in-law bonding between Eric and Brad? I'll let you be the judge.

Because of Ben's illness, we changed our plane tickets and managed to spend a few extra days in the U.S., including New Year's. We spent New Year's Eve at Kimmy and Brad's house, where my parents, Di and Dan, and Uncle Rick and Aunt Barbara and their kids joined us. We spent most of the night playing board games. Who knew that Balderdash could be so utterly hilarious?

It was a fantastic trip, but all good things must come to an end. We somehow managed to squeeze all of the kids' new toys into our luggage (a miracle in and of itself!), and Eric's mom drove us back to the airport. We were delayed in D.C. because of high winds in Newark, so we missed our connecting flight and got a free night in a nearby hotel. We eventually made it home, and though it had been a great trip, it's always nice to come home.

Fun though it was, I'm giving you all fair warning that it is highly unlikely that we'll be able to do it again next year. So I'm throwing this idea out right now - START SAVING!

Next year, let's do Christmas at OUR HOUSE!