she’s a sound sleeper, so after 2 hours of deep REM sleep, she’s awake by 5 am. it feels good to get a little head start on the day, she always thinks. a quick 5 mile run, a shower, some professional development, goal setting, journaling, emptying of the dishwasher, watering the plants, feeding the dog, meditation, switching the laundry, morning yoga, packing her lunch, answering a few emails, fresh ground coffee made in her pour over,  putting the laundry away, her jeans and shirt and flats are put on, she dries and straightens her hair, puts on her makeup, diffuses some essential oils, and since that stuff doesn’t really take that long, she begins to make a quick breakfast for the kids.

they don’t come downstairs until 7, and promptly sit down at the table.  they don’t own a tv.  she puts homemade whole grain waffles with uncured bacon and a side of fruit and plain greek yogurt on their plate.  they’ll both eat anything, so they eat breakfast cheerfully.  there’s talk of plans for the day, after school activities, and a devotional. they wash their own plates, and begin getting ready.  both of their outfits were set out the night before, and they never ever change their minds at the last minute, so they get dressed, brush their own hair, and their teeth. lunches were packed the night before, obviously.  and they each included thought out lunch box notes.  they get their backpacks on and shoes without being asked and walk to the car the first time they were told. 

they sing hymns on the way to school and practice some of their sight words.  the drop off goes very smoothly.  the mom doesn’t drop her kids off too early and never late, but just at the right time.  she’s never speeding around the corner or frustrated at other moms for taking a long time at drop off.  they just sing their hymns and say their sight words.  the kids have their shoes always on the correct feet and have a light jacket just in case. papers are signed and in their respective backpacks.  she kindly waves to the other school moms, says a quick hello to the teacher on car rider duty, and drives off. 

and she begins to worry if she’s doing alright with the kids.

I wrote a little about this topic in a previous post. But after being freshly home from a 7 day trip to Colorado, I thought I’d talk a little more about it.  With my family living in Mississippi, which is a 12 hour drive from us, our kids have traveled a decent amount.  They both made that drive as newborns.

I have friends ask me for tips on how to survive a long road trip with kids.  What I usually tell them is to structure the drive.  I used to wing it and just throw snacks and TV shows in the back constantly and by the time we arrived everyone had a sugar hangover and was overstimulated and exhausted and cranky.  Now we plan out our stops and structure entertainment and snacks accordingly.

On most of our trips, we usually hit the road by 6am.  Our kids don’t sleep in the car.  Like ever.   We used to have high hopes of me sipping coffee, Jeff driving (he always drives the first shift), and the kids sleeping peacefully in the car.  It was a cute thought.  On our trip last week, we planned to make three stops because it was a 10 hour drive.  We aren’t rigid about the stops, if nature calls, there’s nothing you can do about it.  We divided the trip up into three segments.  For the first three hours, they can eat their breakfast, read, draw, and look out the window.  No shows, no devices, no snacks.   This always starts the trip off well.  Something about holding off on sugar and TV helps the kids have a better attitude.  We talk, maybe listen to music, and just sit.  After our first stop, they get to watch a movie, which usually takes about 1.5 hours and they also get a snack.  It’s a well-earned reprieve for everyone.  After the movie is over, they can read or draw or play with one of the toys I packed.  I usually run around the house the night before the trip and grab a few toys that I can throw in a backpack with their books.  Our second stop is lunchtime.  We eat, stretch our legs, play if there’s a playplace, and then get back in the car.  This is rest time for the kids.  They have to be quiet and try to sleep.  Like I mentioned earlier, they don’t sleep in the car.  But we make them be quiet for about 2 hours.  They can read but that’s about it.  They then can play with their devices for a little bit before our last stop.  After that stop they get one more show and then we have about 2 hours left.  That’s usually the hardest part of the trip, so they get a snack, which helps a lot.

I love the feeling of getting on the road.  My favorite day of vacation is the travel day.  There’s just so much to anticipate and look forward to.  I love finding a good playlist to listen to, drinking coffee with whip cream, opening up a new book picked just for the trip, bouncing good questions off of each other, and learning about our surroundings.  On this particular trip, we drove a long way on I70 west.   We learned about agriculture and wind turbines and wind energy.

Jeff and I always set our expectations for trips on the car ride.  We talk about what we hope to get out of the vacation – personally and as a family and how we can help each other make those things happen.  I thought about how excited I was and I realized we are almost always more excited than the kids.  No matter where we go.  And I realized what makes vacations so much less fun is when we put expectations on their reactions.   I realized there was no way I could expect the kids to treasure the vacation as much as me.   They don’t need a vacation.  Their whole life is a vacation.  They’re kids!  Something about realizing all of this slowed me down a little and allowed me to just… be.  I feel like that phrase gets used a lot, but maybe it’s because a lot of us are so bad at it.

In my efforts to just be present, I was able to say yes to the things that made the kids feel more loved.  “Mom, watch this!” “Mom, can we go see this pond?”  “Mom, look at this fish!”, along with 1000 bad knock knock jokes and lots of looking at pretend worlds made up in the yard.   And those things filled us all up.  I wasn’t focused on going to see and do all the things.  We saw and did a lot, but we didn’t really have energy or expectations behind any of it.  We were just together.  And it was beautiful and relaxing and fun.  And when Nora was asked, “What was your favorite part of your vacation?” she said, “Being with my family.”

This past weekend was our third annual Summer Progressive Dinner.  Our neighborhood holds one in the summer and one in the winter each year, starting three years ago.  Here’s how the night usually goes:

We walk from house to house, starting at appetizers.  We move on the hour and head to the main course.  This year we had fajita kabobs and 7-layer dip in cups.   Then we move to dessert, which included fried ice cream, sopapilla cheesecake, and margarita cupcakes.  The final stop of the dinner is cocktails

Because our neighborhood is… how do I say this… “extra”  we also had a mariachi band follow us around to a few houses this year.  Because vibes.

I listened Friday night.  And what I heard, amidst the neighborhood chatter and house project conversations and catching up, is that we are all in this together.  As an adult, sometimes getting out of the house and talking to people feels hard.  But once you get yourself there and start talking, you begin to hear and say a whole lot of “me too”s.  I love that phrase.  I heard so many “me too”s Friday night.   I used to be surprised when we had these neighborhood hangouts at the amount of people that would come to them.  I’m not anymore.  Because I’m realizing that everyone wants connection as much as me.  We just want some people in our lives that will help us figure out who we are and where we should go and maybe we can do the same for them

I’ve been slowly reading Everybody Always by Bob Goff.  So far, I have two things rolling around in my head and in my heart.  The first is that we make friendships three minutes at a time.  The three minutes it takes to go check the mail and chat with your neighbor.  The three minutes it takes to check out at the grocery store.  Three minutes paying for your fast food.  Three minutes picking your kids up from daycare or the car rider line at school or waiting for the bus.  Those three minutes, when used well, can add up to a friendship.

The second thing good ol’ Bob is teaching me is that we make loving people seem way more complicated than it actually is.  We try to attach labels to it like ministry or service and we think it needs all these big, huge plans. We don’t need an elaborate dinner to create community and to love one another (but it is kinda fun), what I think we need is to make ourselves available.  To show up. To get outside of our heads for long enough to be curious about what’s going on in someone else’s heart.  Even if it’s just for three minutes.