Yesterday, I packed up the kids and the van and drove 150 miles in the pouring rain and gusty wind. The plan was to spend a few days at my parents' house in Hampton, VA. We were going to go fishing and meet Jennifer and her boys for the special homeschool days at Colonial Williamsburg. Today sees us snowed in in this tiny little house with four kids and no appropriate cold weather, snow-playing clothing. And the snow isn't going anywhere, either. The high temperature today is only supposed to be about 30 degrees. How long can the kids handle watching CMT and old cowboy movies? I don't know. So far so good, but it's only 10:00 in the morning.
Even though my plans have been foiled by this crummy winter weather, I'm still happy to be here. I haven't seen my parents since Christmas. While I know that isn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, I don't normally go longer than about six weeks without a visit of some kind. Plus I've felt a sincere need to just get away. Get away from home and bills and my daily routine. Get away from the laundry and housework and general stress. It's funny how I always feel the need to run back to this tiny little house where I grew up. I haven't called this place home in over 16 years, but I nearly cried when I walked through the front door yesterday. It's like my soul let out a great big sigh of relief. This house is one great big refuge. It's always represented safety. Plus I know that the two people here are always on my side, always love me no matter how big I screw up or how big a mess I find myself in. I can relax here and really let my hair down. And as long as we stay away from the subjects of religion and politics, there probably won't be any casualties.
That's it for now. I apologize if someone screws up your coffee while I'm away. ;o) Everything will return to normal on Wednesday. Now I'm off to wrap my kids in plastic garbage bags, shove socks on their hands, and send them out into the snow.
Oh yeah, no wild parties while I'm away, Keith.