Day: March 7, 2009

The bathroom counter is adorned with an array of four hair irons in various types from crimping to curling. At first you would think that this display is the natural result of 24 people staying in the same house. No. All four irons are for a single 14-year-old girl to fix her hair. Fixing one’s hair to perfection is vital on a day in which one expects to play at a gymnasium and go swimming.

My allergies have been bad the last couple of days. It is a cumulative effect as the asthmatic response gets worse and worse. I don’t like being slowly suffocated by an over reaction of my immune system. Thank goodness that Howard arrived with the albuterol. I feel much better now.

Also thank goodness for children’s DVDs to provide a quiet space in the middle of the day. Several of the kids had reached over-stimulated meltdown. Patch is in desperate need of a quiet space, but he does not want one. He does not want to take a break. Hopefully a movie will be sufficient down time to prevent later melt downs.

The first hours of the reunion are chaotic. None of the kids have settled into games yet. Instead they are all running from room to room, tossing toys around at random. The adults are not settled either. People are still arriving. There are suitcases to be carried, questions about schedule, beds to set up, dinner to make, and a dozen fragmenting conversations as everyone tries to catch up with everyone else. The chaos continues into the dinner hour as we attempt to feed 16 kids and 11 adults in one large kitchen. We scramble to answer all the demands “I want to sit there!” “She’s pushing the table!” “Do I have to eat this!” “Where is my juice!” “Can I be done?” The children leave the room in age-grouped clusters, all running off to play. The adults linger talking before cleaning up. Everyone has settled in and the reunion is in full swing.

Half a dozen kids dash past me, scattering as they round the couch in different directions, then regrouping before continuing to run out the opposite door. All are sporting brightly-colored, long-armed monkeys fastened around their necks like capes. My nephew has two rainbows’ worth of these monkeys and they have become vital to whatever game it is that they are playing together so intently. The world is at stake and monkey beclad children will determine our fates. At the moment they each only have a single monkey, but on prior circuits through the room, Gleek was begirdleed with half a dozen, like a fuzzy, multi-colored batman utility belt, armed for any monkey-requiring emergency. I asked about the purpose of the monkeys, but none of the kids will tell me. They all just give me a look that says I shouldn’t inquire into these top secret matters. Then they run off to save the world again. This is why we have family reunions, so that we can observe these age-range spanning cousin games. With monkeys.

I stayed up until 1:30 AM talking with my adult relatives, related both by blood and marriage. One thing I love about my extended family is that the distinction between sister and sister-in-law does not matter. We are all family. That is one of the things I love about Howard, he understands that being a close family is a choice rather than a happenstance of birth.

Up next we’re making padded swords, heading out to play at a gym, going swimming, and then playing games until everyone is too tired to stay up anymore.