What I've learned...

1,788 miles
32 hours in a Chevy Malibu (only includes town to town driving, no in-town)
1 cabin, 5 homes
2 bikes which became 3 bikes which became 1 different bike which became 2 bikes
43 family members
11 village members
Lowest temperature: 45 degrees
Highest temperature: 105 degrees
13 buy-off gifts for my 5 and 7 year old boys
One epic trip.

1) Whether blood, married, accidental, or chosen, family is family, and will always be.

2) It is not necessary to have video available as an option for children to survive a trip such as this.

3) Cousins make life worth living for those under ten, especially those living far away from said cousins.

4) You can never guess the impact that you will have in the lives of others, or the impact the lives of others will have on you. Live graciously. Spread joy. Love those around you.

5) Honor your dead. But also honor your living, because they will someday become your dead.

6) A hometown is made up of more than "that house". A hometown is in the parks and streets and schools in which you LIVED your life.

7) Take pictures. They are a thousand memories encapsulated into one image. They will continue to speak for decades to come.

8) When leaving for long periods, bring whatever daily normalcy with you that you can.

9) When you are gone, you will first relish the escape from normalcy, like a child running away from responsibilities. You will find a rhythm of the new, the flexible, the whatever. Then you will crave your normal. This is homesickness.

10) Upon arriving home, normal will hit you like a Mack truck. As will laundry.

11) It is possible to create a capsule wardrobe allowing the greatest number of outfit options using the smallest number of distinct interchangeable items to do so. You will congratulate yourself on a smaller suitcase and the planned laundry stops along the way. You will hate it by the end of your trip.

12) Find and cultivate pockets of silence. They are life blood.

13) Bring a book, but a small book, with no subject of consequence. The bringing of said book makes no guarantees that you will have time to read it. Omission of book guarantees a need, and you will have to purchase one. Bringing a large book will cause you to curse it. Bringing a book of consequence will drive you to want a book of no consequence, and cause you to purchase one.

14) Leave your home in such a state that it could lay empty or be utilized. You never know.

15) Be socially open and inviting, while still drawing boundary lines of independence. Go with the group unless food, activity, fatigue, or other circumstances cause you to separate, and then make no apologies or offenses, if possible.

16) Sleep aids are a Godsend. Use whatever aids you.

17) There are moments in life that truly take a village. Large gatherings of family members can constitute a village, and make the best cheerleading crowd for removal of training wheels.

18) With the right amount of dedication, it IS possible to rouse and get on the road a family of four at 4:30am.

19) When in doubt, throw them in a swimming pool.

20) Despite it's foibles, social media is the tie that binds us. Use Facebook to create face-to-face time. Heaven help us if we didn't have it.

Finally, with careful planning and the right mix of activities, you can have a vacation in the midst of a trip to see family. And who knows, with practice, maybe even one day all the family trips may be vacations.

~Me

I believe in Santa

I know, not what you expected on July 6th. Whatevs.

Today, my 7-year-old asked the question. THE question. Driving in the car to one place or another:

"Dad? Mom? Is Santa Claus real?"

(*Side note: Every question, and I mean EVERY question in my car starts with a title query. "Mom?" "Yes." "What's seven times nine?" "Sixty-three." . . . "Mom?" "Yes." "Why does 'pita' have the word 'pee' in it?" . . . . "Mom?"
I'm not sure if it's endearing or a sign that they think I'm going to somehow escape. While still driving the car.
*End side note.)

<furtive glance between parents>

"What do you mean, buddy?"

We hemmed, we hawed, we asked clarifying questions to see exactly what he was getting at, and came to the conclusion that YES he was asking what we thought and NO we were not prepared for this conversation. Therefore, we tabled the issue, planned a parental council on the matter, and went on with the drive.

Here's the thing. I get it. I understand. We want to tell our children the truth. We want them to have reality firmly in hand. We want them to follow in our belief footsteps, religious or otherwise, and march bravely into their futures.

But I love Santa Claus.

So here's what we decided to say.

Santa Claus is real, like love is real. Santa is an idea that we all participate in. He represents the goodness, the wholesome magic, that reality that's set just far enough away from our day-to-day to let him still maintain that sparkle. Santa has different wrapping paper for you, because he's special and he wants you to feel SPECIAL. He tracks his magical snow footprints down the hallway so that you know he doesn't take for granted where you are, because you're PRECIOUS. He's not a man or a person, but Santa is a concept. And that concept of Santa makes us all a little lighter, happier, and more joyful.

He looked on with the brave smile that says "I'm trying not to be sad about this." And I hope he understood.

And then we showed him where we hid the Santa wrapping paper, and told him he was sworn to secrecy for his little brother. And all the world was a better place, 'cause you KNOW there's nothing happier for an older brother than being in on a secret with mom & dad. Happy ending to all.

...and to all a good night.

~Me

My entourage

I have been chewing on an idea lately. Processing the thought of what each of our personal burdens looks like. Feels like. Carries like. When we pass on the street or in church and ask "How are you doing?"

"Fine." *blink, blink*

What if there was someway to shake up reality so that you carried the burdens of your heart in the form of a visible group of people. Your own personal posse.

"How are y'all doing?"

"Well. Let me introduce you to my crew. Here's my cousin who's fighting cancer. This is my best friend, she's got kind of a crazy work situation going on. Over there is my family, and you can see the little herd of family issues hanging on around there. Oh, and that's my daughter, who's decided that screaming fits are the newest thing and that parental compliance is completely optional... Uncle Verne, who's decided that we all don't exist. And back there in the corner, that's the embodiment my own self-discovery and self-purpose struggles. Wave, sweetie!"

I wonder if anyone would be "fine" anymore.

Would we hide more, knowing that all those weights we carry around are suddenly uber-visible? Would we be more brash, more real, knowing that there's no way to fake it, so you may as well just own up to what you're carrying? Would those carrying less feel obligated to carry more? Would those carrying more suddenly feel as though they've been put upon? Would the drama types suddenly quell their drama?

Picture it:
Drama type: You don't underSTAND. My life is so HARD. I have TWO problems in my entourage!! Like, TWO! One, two!! How can you even THINK that I could, like, even CONSIDER doing ANYthing other than having a CRISIS over my PROBLEMS.

Non-drama type: Yeah. (looking over shoulder at her entourage of twenty) I can see that.

Drama type: (Noticing larger entourage of other person) Oh.

Side Note: Deep thoughts, sarcasm, dry, witty humor, mild irreverence. You've been warned. It's part of the package deal, here.

Try the idea on. It's a fun one to play with.
~Me