Easter Trinity

Living in Delaware, we live at least an hour and half from our family, which now includes our son. We used to live in the same county as most of our relatives. Going for a holiday dinner requires a different kind of finesse than before. While we used to have to herd our kids into the car, we now have to plan for what to do with our dog because a accepting an invitation to a holiday dinner means we are gone all day. We are not far enough away that overnighters are required for anything but the staggered events at Christmas. We do, however, live far enough away that we try to stack our visitations one on top of another until our day resembles a triathlon. If we are driving three hours round trip, we will see as many people as possible. In terms of Easter, this meant two-and-a-half hour stints at three places, with pug in tow. He rode in the back seat and cried for three-quarters of the journey with Mark yelling at him for half. Note to self: bring earbuds along for holiday car rides.

We dropped Eli off at Mark's parents, where he is more at home with Lilly, their dog, and since we were not getting in our Sunday morning hike, we walked the two miles to my parents' house. We held hands as we walked and marveled at the changes to our hometown. An addition to the Rec Center, a drainage ditch where Mark used to play field games at the pool, a skateboard park behind that. It is a beautiful day, and we snacked on a bag of cookies that Mark nicked from his parents' house even though we are about to have two full dinners in the span of three hours.

My parents' house is pure chaos. Eight of the ten grandchildren, ages seven months to twenty years, are accounted for. Maren, our daughter, is in New York. My eleven-year old nephew is with a friend at Disney World. My dad is beside himself trying to locate seating for the entire franchise. My parents put out the invitation to Easter dinner within the last week. I am not sure they expected that all four of their kids would agree to come. Bowls of strangely sour jelly beans are set out with the paper plates and plasticware. The menu is Pennsylvania Dutch and includes Ham Loaf (a favorite of mine even though I dislike ham) and pineapple filling among the spread of other of my mother's go-to dishes. My sister-in-law makes up a separate meal for my niece who suffers from food allergies. The talk is boisterous and animated while we pass the baby around like a hot potato. My dad must pray over his food in his usual manner, but one in which I find to be less about the thanks part and more about his dominion. I realize that is my personal issue. Amen.

The news of the day is that my brother-in-law has just resigned his post as Warwick's head basketball coach, a position he held for eight-years and that my father held for twenty years prior to that. Looking around the room, four of my dad's former players are in attendance in the form of his sons and sons-in-law, including my husband. All the togetherness is a bit much for some of us. Jonah puts himself in time-out on a faraway couch to get away from it all. My sister, brother-in-law, niece, and I take the baby for a walk to put her to sleep. Mark takes the menfolk out in a spin in his new hybrid vehicle which Jonah had driven over from Mark's parents' house. The car is so new that I have not even driven it yet. We just have enough time for a little pretzel salad when we all return. My mother makes pretzel salad for every event, and we all guzzle it down. I do, too, even knowing that my lemon sponge pies are going untouched and that meal number two is upon us. I should have known better than to have gone up against the almighty pretzel salad.

Dinner number two is far more relaxed. Just nine of us around a dining room table with actual plates and silverware. My mother-in-law has made ham and raisin sauce, which only she and Mark's brother will eat. They have also made a chicken or a turkey. I don't know. I pass on the meat because I have had my protein in the preferred form of ham loaf. I serve up the pierogi lasagne we brought. It is a new recipe which puts potatoes, cheddar cheese, and sautéed onions between layers of lasagna noodles. It is good and and it is hefty, but with my mother-in-law's fresh cole slaw it strikes a perfect balance. The boys, young and old, fight over the homemade crescent rolls which show up and disappear at every special occasion.  I'm almost glad that I prefer a crustier bread. Like I need any more calories--or a black eye for trying to come between the Wood men and those rolls.

We all call Maren from around the table and joke that it is like our Christmas Eve calls to Grandma Pat in Michigan where we all have to make small talk and fight over who gets to ask about the weather. I take a walk (#3) with Mark's brother's wife, Tammy, with whom I once trained for and ran the Chicago marathon years ago. We have lots of catching up to do. It is so good when family members are friends. I count myself lucky in this regard many times over.  Dessert after this walk is assorted cheesecake. Again, my sad lemon sponge pie waits in the wings, but I know that Jonah will take care to polish it off during the week. That comforts me. There are very few treats I can bring him that he doesn't already get living at Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Our third and final stop is to our best friends' house where we have our wine. They bring out the good stuff for us now that we live far away.  We sit and catch up. The kids, who have not eaten in a while come up--starving. I make them fried sweet bologna sandwiches which they have never had. I used to cook a lot in our friends' kitchen. As veterinarians, they would work late on Friday nights when we used to get together. I had my afternoons free, so I would cook dinner even if we were meeting at their house. It is nostalgic to cook here, even if it is just frying up some lunchmeat. Our two-and-half hour allotment stretches into three hours here. Monday morning seems so far away when you are enjoying a Sunday night with old friends.

I nod off on the car ride home. Fresh air, wine, and heavy food have done me in. Even the dog is silent on his blanket in the back seat.  Mark squeezes my hand. This is our new normal holiday regime, I tell myself. I am fine with that.