Over Thanksgiving weekend, Meloches outnumbered the Manrys in our house nine to five. There was also one Wiita thrown in for good luck. Dale would claim that if any of my family members are present, I transform from a Manry back into a Meloch for the duration. I do admit to being thrilled about eating traditional stuffing instead of cornbread stuffing, to liking pecan pie better than apple pie, and to enjoying board games instead of fireball. The weekend was fun and filled with laughter, but I couldn’t stop myself from creating a few difficult situations. For a month, I had known I needed two port-a-cribs. My Mom, who wanted the house ready well prior to arrival day was not too thrilled with her daughter’s usual procrastination. Two days prior to arrival, I borrowed a port-a-crib from a friend and two hours prior to arrival, I went into the basement to get my port-a crib. It was at this point that I realized there was no port-a-crib in sight. After I move, I can not be held responsible for the things I have gotten rid of. I am in throw out, donate mode, and although I have no memory of donating my port-a-crib, I must have. I looked everywhere: in the basement, in the garage, in the closets. So, there I stood in the basement with the dawning realization that I had to go upstairs and face my Mother who was standing at the ready with a crib sheet. After the news of the missing port-a-crib was delivered, I made the command decision to build the wooden crib instead. We still had all the pieces for that. So, Gabe, the crosstip screwdriver, Grandma, and I set to work. I, of course, had never built the crib before. The construction process followed my usual pattern: putting brackets the wrong way, getting things jammed, attaching and detaching various crib parts, and banging something in place. When it was finally complete, there were high fives all around. That crises was not observed by all, so I decided I needed to do something to make everyone uncomfortable. Dale likes the house cold when he sleeps, so I always turn the heat down at night. He told me that the temperature had dropped to 42 degrees fahrenheit in the desert the other night, and he slept so well, he didn’t want to get out of bed. Meanwhile, back in Virginia, everyone went to bed and I turned down the heat. It happened to be the first night of frost. Rob, who lives in California, came down in a winter cap. His wife, Michelle came downstairs wrapped in 2 blankets, and Howie’s baby, Ean looked like he had been visited by Jack Frost. “It’s my house now!” (reference the children’s book “Bear Dance”) I had froze them all. Except for my Dad, of course, who slept like a log. He likes to sleep where it is so cold that the inside of the windows and walls are covered with ice. I can’t say I remember those days with fondness. On the coldest days of the year, you might get the wool quilt thrown on you which would keep you warm, but was so heavy, you could barely roll to your side. We would jump out of the basement shower and dry off next to the wood stove to keep from freezing to death. Anyway, the next night I left the heat up. They all slept well, but my Dad started complaining. He threatened to sleep naked. We are all thankful that we didn’t have to see that. When I picked up the kids from school after everyone’s departure, I announced that it was just us Manrys again. Gabe said he was sad and missed them all already, Abby informed me that we had less than a month until the next company arrived, and Josiah said emphatically, “Yes! I’ve got my room to myself again!” Dale has a similar reaction when my family departs. That night I slept in my bed for the first time in almost 2 months. I enjoyed it so much that I decided to sleep in. I woke up at 0755, 10 minutes after we were supposed to leave for school. I looked at the alarm clock in confusion. I had set it the night before to 0600. I then realized that the clock read 7:55 pm. The power had gone out a few days before and my parents must have forgotten to set the am/pm. We arrived at school late and went into the office to get tardy slips for the kids. The secretary asked if there was a reason that we were late and I replied “family issues.” Gabe piped up behind me, “Can’t we tell her the real reason?” Never bring a 7 year old with you when you oversleep.
