Visual proof that the road trip temporarily known as Hell on Wheels was well worth the effort once we arrived. All we had to do was give each kid his/her very own mountain.
(Click collage to enlarge.)
Happy End of Summer, y’all!!
What’s not to love about a family road trip?
I have had an empty nest for six days. Six glorious days of Me Time, Husband Time, Friend Time…while the kids had high-energy Grandma/Grandpa Time. I am refreshed, rejuvenated and even missing a couple of dark circles under my eyes.
And now that the kids are only a few hours from returning to the nest, they cannot get here fast enough. My insides are fluttery, my hands will not stop moving. I have stocked the fridge with their favorite foods, made their beds with crisp, clean sheets, and tidied up the entire house…even though I fully expect three tornadoes to come sweeping in the door, dumping bags, spilling drinks and throwing filthy shoes on the pristine floor.
As I pace the house, checking email and tying up loose ends, I suddenly have a new appreciation for my own parents and for every parent of grown kids. All those times my Dad calls when we hit the road heading north. How much longer now? Do you have enough gas? Did you factor in rush-hour traffic? I’m cooking steak, Punkin, and I promise I’ll make yours well done.
And a week before any trip out west, my mother-in-law asks for meal ideas, even though she knows by heart what her kids and grandkids will eat. She pulls out the Mickey Mouse waffle maker and the vintage juice glasses that seem to remind her of her own childhood. She ponders the many possible sleeping arrangements and makes sure each bed has its own ultra cozy blanket and nightlight.
All this bustling about…for kids and grandkids who may not notice at all. Who really just want to come home, hug their folks, and stand in the kitchen cracking jokes. But I completely get it. This nest that we create for our families, it’s so much more than brick and mortar.
It’s I love you, I know you, I cherish you. I am so glad you are home.
I grew up in a family of anglers, but today I much prefer this kind of catch and release…
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Hope you are having a playful summer! Remember: If you “like” my new Facebook page by Sun, July 15th (5pm central) you have a chance to win a cool photo gift. Details here!
“Mom, how do you know if it’s graffiti or art?”
Two days later and I’m still working on my answer.
So, Hubs has been traveling a lot with work, which is really super fantastic because it gives me all kinds of fodder for blog posts but little time to actually put it in writing.
But who am I to complain? After all, it’s not total fun and games for Hubs either. He’s working nonstop, sleeping in a quiet kid-free room alone, and missing the warmth and chaos comfort of home.
Yet somehow, we persevere…and I think it has something to do with a family tradition that, though started quite accidentally, keeps us connected while apart. It all began years ago, back when we were a family of four, not five. One early morning Hubs was trying to navigate his way out the door, shuffling through kids and dogs with his briefcase, tiny suitcase and even tinier shampoo bottles when Rascal bolted after him. Pushing a vintage Star Wars guy into his palm, he implored, “Take Droid with you and think of me!”
Naturally, this sent Doodlebug into complete hysterics because obviously “Daddy is not going to think of me! Quick, what can I give him??” Deaf to words like rush-hour traffic and freaking ridiculous security lines, she raced through the house in search of something, anything. She returned with a small plastic Hippo. Phew! Now he would, as the kids carefully repeated, remember to remember us.
And who would have guessed, but it actually worked! And we are still getting the postcards to prove it….
I know, I know…I have been gone and didn’t even bother to bring back a lousy T-shirt for you. Please accept my apologies and these belated postcards.
Ah, here we are at a beautiful, family-friendly beach resort. By “resort” of course I mean “random city park in the middle of nowhere.” Lucky for us, the event organizers provided babysitters…
But that’s not all we’ve been up to!
We spent some quality time with family. All the cousins! Yay! And traditions! Yay! Like food and football and an annual photo with all seven cousins sitting together looking adorable. Or maybe just six of them. Because maybe a certain 2-year-old (ahem) might decide to throw an unholy fit and refuse to stand anywhere near the group without spitting and crying and hurling his body all about. Family bonding!
But that boy, he is no dummy, that’s for sure. He knows a travel tip when he sees it:
When you have to take a trip to time-out, you might as well pack snacks.
As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.
~A. C. Benson
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Dear readers, if you liked this post, you are gonna love this one!
We started the climb where the rivers divide, where the waters must decide if they are West Coast or East Coast material.
For more than two hours we hiked, crossing creeks like seasoned tight-rope walkers. We talked to scampering chipmunks, looked for elk scat, counted wildflowers in every color of the rainbow. To my surprise, the kids needed little more prodding than an occasional, “Ooh! Let’s see what’s around this corner!” More often, we were shouting after them to wait for us at the next turn.
We found a perfect picnic meadow, complete with smooth boulders that improvised as chairs. There was oohing and ahhing and even some off-key singing.
At the hardest part of the climb, the kids finally pulled out the “How much farther?…When can we turn back?” questions. Then Rascal, who was leading the pack and right in front of me, crested a steep hill and gasped. “Snow!!!”
There, atop a rocky field high above treeline and unprotected from the sun’s rays, was a huge, defiant patch of snow. The big kids jumped the trail and sprinted toward it while Smiley twisted around in his backpack, demanding to be set free.
And without warning I found myself blinking back tears. I stood there on that rocky spot, looking down the mountain toward a blur of impossible greens and blues and up at my chattering, delighted kids and I could not have felt happier. I don’t say that lightly. It was truly one of the sharpest feelings of joy I can recall.
I was in my happy place, surrounded by my most important people, feeling the goodness of my life pouring through me with energy and abundance. It was absolutely electric.
And then…because life is what it is, I eventually had to get down the mountain. We all did. And sometimes that part is not as electrifying or gratifying or somehow even as scenic. But I shot photos. And I wrote this. Because if there’s one thing I want to hold on to, it’s that moment at 12,150 feet. I have climbed higher before, but I’ve never felt closer to the sky.
Yesterday we spent a perfect Easter Sunday enjoying some family time in nature’s sanctuary…
And because holidays are often about the teaching of lessons and the passing down of important family traditions, we taught the kids how to do this…
We also assured them someday they would think the photo op was hilarious. Really. It is. Don’t tell them otherwise.
