The day after Christmas we visited my dad, stepmom, and brother in northern Wisconsin. (It's the first time my dad met S or his grandson.) They live on the outskirts of a tiny one-horse town with one stoplight, one Piggly Wiggly, and an ice cream store called Phat Ice Cream with a fat sign featuring a blissed-out pig diving into a triple cone.
This is where life is simple and the ice fishing is good. Play dates (and maybe adult dates) happen at McDonald's, everyone seems to know (or know of) everyone else, and even the women wear their hunting camo jackets to run errands. Unfortunately we missed the outhouse races out on the frozen lake. Folks ice fish from outhouses, cute ones with sliver-moon windows. Later in the winter they'll race the beauties across the lake.
There wasn't much snow, but we stuffed Rowan into his snow suit anyway and wrapped him into the carrier for walks in the frigid cold. When the wind bit my cheeks, I'd bury my face into sleeping Rowan's hot hood like the lucky mama I am.
We had a turkey dinner, and I made turkey soup with the leftovers. My dad cooked us lots of hearty breakfasts, and we ate lots of red meat, including venison nachos. Rowan learned how to crawl up stairs. We played copious amounts of late-night double Pinochle, in between Rowan's wake ups.
In the middle of the 10-day visit, S and I took a weekend road trip to Chicago to see two of his cousins, the first people from S's family to meet Rowan. My husband may or may not have broken his nose (again) while playing hide-and-seek with Rowan to ease his screaming during a car diaper change in a Chicago garage.
We had a great time with the family and I couldn't ask for a better trip overall. On the flight back, we had all three seats to ourselves and Rowan behaved super. I nursed him to his heart's content. He slept, he played, cooed, sang, ate, flirted, and won the hearts of the stewardesses and in-flight neighbors.
So, I've been rather disconnected. It may be a tad bit late, but...
May you have a peaceful, joy filled New Year.