Page 25 of All in for Christmas

I had no idea how relaxing weekends were until I hit Monday morning, and yep.

I’m still here. “Enjoy,” Mary Christmas said.

“You’re your own agent.” Sure. Maybe in getting here, but not in understanding what to do next.

I’m sad about losing Paws and Read and the familiar world I left behind, and yet this new place is growing on me daily.

Mary Christmas acted like I have a choice about whether I go or stay, but she never told me how to make it.

Instead, she said to take each lovely moment as it comes.

And in this moment , we’re running late.

I scramble to shove snacks into the kids’ backpacks in the kitchen.

Dean rushes in and sets down his coffee, picks it back up for another quick sip.

Dumps the remnants from his mug in the kitchen sink and slides the mug into the dishwasher and mashes a button, starting the machine.

He checks his watch against the kitchen clock. “Five minutes,” he says. Right.

When he turns I spy the back of his blue oxford shirt, which is not expertly ironed.

A set of double creases goes all the way down his back, protruding out like fins, and his slacks poke out sideways, giving the appearance of jodhpurs around the hips and thighs.

Yikes. How did that happen? At least nothing’s scorched.

“Er. You might want to wear a sweater!” I urge. “Chilly out.”

He grins over his shoulder. “Good point. I’ll go and grab one.

” Great. At least that will conceal half the problem.

He pretends not to notice his khakis. Or maybe he really doesn’t.

Things are rather hectic around here. Grumble.

Grumble. Ironing. Who knew that would be on my schedule? Obviously, I was not prepared.

I zip the tiny backpacks and hurry into the living room.

Eleanor and Henry sit on the sofa stuffed into their coats and snow boots.

I tug on their small hats. Dean grabs the borrowed telescope in its case and carries it toward the front door.

It’s stopped snowing at last, but frigid blasts of air blow through the front door before he shuts it.

“I know you usually drop the kids off at daycare,” he says, holding the door ajar and battling back the wind. Except I have no clue where that is. “But today, maybe we should ride together in the jeep? Give the roads another day to clear before you take the hatchback?” Whew.

“Great idea!” I pull each child off the sofa into a standing position. It’s harder with Henry, and he topples forward slightly. I steady him by his shoulders until he stops rocking back and forth. “Okay, Henry?”

He grins sweetly. “O-tay!”

Aww. I tug him into a hug and embrace Eleanor too.

I can’t leave her out. She’s already mildly jealous of her little brother, but that’s normal.

She’ll grow out of it. I’m so proud of her for knowing about ’natomy and everything.

She’s sure to go far. I’m thinking brain surgeon or cardiologist. It’s too soon to tell with Henry, but I have an inkling he’ll stay a sweetheart his whole life through.

I’m not supposed to get attached to these children, and I’m not.

I wince internally at the lie. Merely appreciating their obvious attributes.

Dean hurries back inside to grab his work bag and computer.

I’ve got my stuff piled on the love seat.

Scout tries to trail after Dean with a tennis ball in his mouth, but Dean waves the pup aside.

“Later, boy,” he says before addressing me.

“I’ll switch the car seats to the jeep.” He glances over his shoulder. “You do the house check!”

“Hmm?”

He holds up his fingers and enumerates. “Coffee pot off. Toaster. Stove. Your cell phone. I’ve got mine,” he says, patting his pocket.

“Right!” I spring into action, racing into the kitchen.

“Side door locked!” Dean calls after me while Scout tags along at my heels.

I take my cell phone off the counter. Groan.

Still not charging. And last night I used Dean’s charger, in case that was the problem.

Awesome time to have it die. I’ll have to text Mom and my girlfriends from Dean’s phone, saying my phone’s on the fritz.

I return my phone to the counter and Scout sits alertly, barking at the advent calendar.

He’s right. We forgot to put something up!

Maybe it’s not so important, but after my meeting at the market with Mary Christmas I’m no longer sure.

She urged me to make the most of this reality, not screw it up.

If we miss a day with the advent calendar will something bad happen?

Will we all go poof ? I don’t even want to entertain the possibility.

I throw the bolt on the side door, which Dean left open when he hauled out the trash.

I’m somehow in a nice top and black stretch pants with flat boots.

My hair looks decent too, which is amazing.

I merely dried it with a blow dryer. Took five minutes.

I’ve got my makeup routine down pat. Eyeliner, brow brush, blush and lip gloss.

I must have mastered speed primping when the kids were even younger.

My usual routine takes me twenty minutes, start to finish. No time for that here.

Scout barks again and I see his water bowl’s empty.

Maybe he wasn’t calling my attention to the advent calendar after all.

Now that I’ve noticed, though, I can’t unnotice.

I quickly fill Scout’s bowl from the kitchen sink.

Check the coffee pot, which is on. Turn it off.

Unplug the toaster. Stove knobs are all in the correct position.

Meaning, not leaking gas into the house. That would be disastrous.

I dash into the living room, where Dean stands by the door. The kids are with him. He glances at my purse and work bag on the love seat. “Ready?”

“Er—no!” I glance at the kitchen. “The advent calendar! We forgot to add something for the twenty-second.”

Dean stares at his jeep in the driveway. He’s left it running, warming up. “Can’t we do that when we get home?”

I grimace. “Better not wait.”

“Fine.” He picks up Henry and hurries him into the kitchen.

It’s Henry’s turn. But he can’t get the object out of the pocket wearing his mittens, so Dean has to yank one off.

Great! He plucks out the pillow-like item picturing a pair of ice skates and plants it on the advent calendar extra hard.

The whole thing tilts and I reach over and straighten it.

“Can we go ice skating?” Eleanor asks hopefully.

Dean winces and replies, “Sometime, sweetie. Sure! But probably not today.”

She pouts and skulks out of the kitchen. “That’s what you always say.” She makes a grumpy face and says to Henry, “Tamica’s family always goes.”

Henry grins at his big sister. “Merry Kissmas!”

“It’s not Christmas, Henry.” She grumps some more. “Santa probably doesn’t even know where we live.” Uh-oh. Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

“Of course he does!” I chime in and grab my things off the love seat. “And he’ll be here Christmas Eve.”

“That’s right. So.” Dean winks at the kids and lilts into song. “You better watch out—”

“You better not cry!” I sing in return.

“You better not pout,” Dean croons is a deep baritone. Wow. He’s got a voice! “I’m telling you why.”

The two of us join in on the refrain: “Santa Claus is coming to town!”

Eleanor and Henry stare at us, stunned. Both their mouths hang open.

I chuckle at Dean. “Not bad, Daddy. Not bad at all.”

He laughs and opens the door. “I’d say the same for you.”

We load the kids into their car seats and snap them in from either side of the jeep. I’ve got Henry. Dean’s got Eleanor. “When did we learn to sing?” I ask, amazed.

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. “Must have been all those karaoke nights in college.”

“Yeah, must have been.” I do remember those, and they bring a huge smile, along with happy memories. We often went with our friends. Sometimes it was just the two of us.

As I buckle myself into the passenger seat, I catch a glimpse of the kids in the rearview mirror.

Eleanor’s over her funk about not getting to ice skate and tracing designs on her frosty car window with her mitten.

Aww. Now she’s made a smiley face. Henry hums an unknown tune, lost in his own world, his blue eyes shining.

It must be fun to be Henry. Although, frankly, I’d rather not toilet train again.

Personally. I see Dean’s cell phone sitting on the console charger. “I think my phone died.”

“Bummer.” He centers his hands on the wheel, checking the backup camera as we exit our drive and onto the icy street.

It’s been plowed, but there are slick patches.

“Maybe we should take it to the phone store for testing? Since tomorrow’s a half day, we can stop by after work then?

” He frowns uncertainly. “If you can make it that long without it?”

I’ve amazingly lasted so far. The old me had everything organized on my cell phone calendar and printed out in a neat display on my fridge, but I evidently don’t plan as meticulously here, so somehow the phone doesn’t seem as great a loss.

Or maybe I’ve simply had so much else to keep me busy, the lack of technology has been harder to notice.

He turns the jeep, heading north, and we putter down our sleepy snow-covered street.

Once we hit the main roads, we’ll have nothing but clear asphalt ahead of us.

I fold my hands in my lap and say surely, “I can make it.”

We pull into the school parking lot a short time later, after settling the kids at Wee Winks Daycare.

Huge piles of snow are pushed into mounds, making way for employee parking spots.

“Okay,” Dean says and hands me the keys.

“These are for you to pick up the kids later. Then you can come back and get me at four.”