DON'T MISS OUT!

Not Exactly What I Had In Mind



After much hemming and hawing, I agreed (actually, was forced) to go on a short vacation to a cabin in the Red River Gorge in Kentucky. That's Jeff's idea of a family vacation, not mine. (By the way, I questioned using the word "family" in that sentence. I don't doubt that some of us are reluctant participants in Jeff's obsession to visit many mountainous regions.) Anyways, Jeff had called and booked the place and if we didn't go this weekend, we'd have to use the cabin in the next 6 months. Talk about a monkey on your back. UGH!!! Don't need that looming over my shoulders. I also had the option of sending Jeff with the three oldest, but Andrew informed us that he was "going to the mountains" too. I couldn't handle the thought of the numerous anxiety attacks I'd have sitting here picturing my 4-year old repelling down cliffs, climbing slippery boulders or being expected to hike 6 miles without food or water. I had to go to ensure his safety.
So all seven of us set off to the beautiful hills of Kentucky to stay at the lovely Five Star Cabins. (Abbey is still questioning why they have the right to call themselves "Five Star"...we'd call them "One and a Half Stars" on a good day.)
Patrick and I hung out in the cabin most of the time, and Jeff and the kids explored the mountains. They all hiked many miles without complaint, and would come back rosy-cheeked, starving, filthy, and smelling of wet dead leaves. The baby and I even joined them on one occasion so we too could smell like leaves and explore the mountains.
We all did end up having a great time. None of my anxiety was warranted, and I admit that it was great to escape our little town. The views were beautiful. The drive there and back went unbelievably smooth. We all needed the fresh air, exercise and family time.
All said, as I was climbing out of the 4 foot-high hole in the ground (see picture above if you don't believe me) after navigating a pitch black cave with bats on the ceiling, I reserved the right to pick the destination of the next family vacation.
And y'all, it ain't goin' be Kentucky.

Spring Break

Why I Hate Winter in March:
1. It snows on Easter but not on Christmas!
2. Major lack of sunlight causes incredible amount of crabbiness.
3. Body fried from furnace heat.
4. Mind fried from too much TV.
5. Brown grass, brown dead leaves, gray trees and a white sky gets old after 5 months.
6. Dust, dirty windows, and staring at the inside of the same old house gets old after 5 months.
6. Everyone is sick of eachother.
7. Everyone looks sick.
8. Everyone is sick.


Why I Am Promising Myself That We Will Go On Spring Break Every Year From Now On:
1. Breathing warm fresh air, eating fresh food, and walking outside without freezing your butt off can cure anyone of anything.
2. Buying cute summer clothes, pool toys, tanning lotion and bathing suits the week before is so much fun.
3. Seeing the kids dressed in cute summer clothes, playing on the beach, getting tan and swimming in the pool is even more fun.
4. Tan fat looks better than white fat.
5. Pizza by the pool, evenings on the beach, a good book, dumb magazines, Pringles, pop, sand castles, bike rides, kites, seagulls, gift shops, donut shops, flip-flops, and palm trees...

It might only be a week away from Winter in March, but it starts the ball rolling.

Brotherly Love


The kids are always amazed when we calculate the future. I am too.
When Isaac leaves for college, baby Patrick will be starting preschool.
It seems so far away, but so did highschool. If you don't take one day at a time, all those years seem overwhelming. It seems like the milestones are something so many moms look forward too. What will I do with myself when I'm alone by myself all day? OK, I can think of lots of things. But can I think of lots of things for the next 40 years after that? Having the kids all home will have only taken up 20 years of my 100+ I intend to be on this earth. It seems like a small amount to rush.

Rub-Down

Andrew to Patrick: "Let me give you a little rub."
Proceeds to put his bare feet gently on Patrick's bald little baby head and move them around.