The Twelve Hours of Christmas

Mock me if you must...my topic follows the minimalist tradition.

Holiday havoc...I visited Fantasy in Lights with my husband's family at Callaway Gardens this weekend. There were twenty-one of us. I could stop there, but I don't know that you could imagine the holiday "spirit" that filled me.

"April, did you get us tickets to Callaway?"

"Yes Mama, I said I would. I thought it would be fun if we rode the trolley to see the lights. That way we can all be together instead of strung out in four cars."

I looked at Ben with that look that should only be recognizable to him. It's also known as disguised panic. I motioned for him to follow me upstairs.

"Ben, it's gonna be twenty degrees tonight, and we're going right the damn trolley at nine o' clock to look at lights?????"

"Aunt Beth and April are excited, and the kids will love it."

Four hours later we are packed into a suburban like a mother of ten trying to wear her high school cheerleading uniform.

"Sir, you can't park here."

"Just unloading," Uncle Wayne replies.

"Sir, you can't unload here."

You don't tell Uncle Wayne he can't do anything. He is the patriach.

"Well then, I'll move as soon as everyone gets out."

We enter Santa's Village, which smells more like hotdogs and sausage on a stick than the north pole. It is cold. Not twenty-degrees in Pine Mountain cold. North Pole cold. Santa would cancel Christmas if he had to fly in this. And we're here to see the lights.

All the girls to take a potty break before we get in line for the trolley, so we find the nearest bathroom. There is a line about a quarter of a mile outside the door and down the sidewalk.

"Girls, there's another bathroom over there in the trailers if you want to use it," an slightly toothless peroxdide blonde calls out.

So we find the trailer. And it wasn't too difficult. Because the smell billowing from it could be used for military purposes. If we could have bottled this, well many a war may have ended differently.

But when you've got to go, you've got to go. So, we waited in line, downwind from the stench, and practiced living on Mars. Without oxygen. Only to find that the trailer was without air freshener and toilet paper.

I comforted myself with the fact that if I peed down my leg, at least I would have a few seconds of warmth. We found the line for the trolley and began the wait. Our tickets were for nine, and about ten-thirty we boarded our trolley. Within ten minutes all five of the kiddies in attendance (eight and under I might add) were asleep. Yea, the kids are sooo excited. So we froze. But we saw some really beautiful Christmas lights and we did a lot of laughing at ourselves. Good family Christmases aren't about a perfect turkey on the table and immaculately cleaned and decorated houses. There about laughing through the rough parts and enjoying each other regardless. They are about twelve hours that could have been hell, but were a little piece of heaven.