Sometimes, we feel like we get into a rut. Jobs. Obligations. Laundry. The every day things that make us forget to stop and enjoy our lives. Forrest. Trees.
So much so, that we forget to have fun.
We forget to breathe.
This weekend, we had a much-needed mini escape.
We were the parents who randomly packed up the minivan… (Yes, we drive a minivan. We rock the minivan.)
And drove to Georgia for a day.
Because sometimes, it’s fun to just drive somewhere.
This adventure included tiger hats. We realized later that kids in massive crowds of children donning tiger heads on their noggins are much easier to spot, after all. Jamin and I do not have matching hats. I think we should remedy that so we can be that family. We’re pretty close already.
(In other news, my children will one day loathe me for posting this photo)
In case you guys were curious, it doesn’t really snow in the deep south.
When it does snow, we’re all southern with our high maintenance frou-frou requirements. We have a list. It goes a little something like this:
1. Only on a weekday so we miss school/work.
2. Two days at the absolute max. That’s the most cold we can actually handle.
3. While we would love a blizzard, deep down we all know it needs to be melted in the two day requirement because there is no driving. Everyone stays in because people reach a new level of apocalyptic scramble-to-the-grocery-store-for-the-last-loaf-of-bread-the-zombies-are-coming-bat-crap-cray-cray mode. If you dropped a bunch of southerners in a blizzard in Colorado, let’s face it… We would all suffer a delicate combination of spontaneous implosion, frostbite and murder all in the name of beef jerky. It would get passive aggressively ugly, fast.
But back to snow days… You can’t really fault us. I mean, we kind of deserve not to drive on a day so rare as to hold actual snow in the tropics. We don’t know how to salt, shovel and chain things. It’s complicated and foreign. We do a little dance and get all excited in front of the window. It’s almost too much for us to bare. Prayer for snow by southern children is part of our birthright.
Because of the general lack of snowflake fun, we are known to go so far as to actually make our own snow.
We shoot ice out of a machine and then go for snow angels in the mud. It’s ingenuity at it’s finest, and epic southern fun.
We also totally got on a big tube as a family and did this.
We were bundled up and ready to go with aforementioned massive tiger hats, and then it quickly turned to sixty degree weather. I was sweating in my ski pants. So I was standing in Georgia in sixty degree sunshine and slush. Wearing ski pants. All in the name of a good time. I felt a little stereotypical.
But let’s not miss the moral of the story. I totally squeezed into my circa 2000 ski pants from when my parents did actually live in Colorado.
I was proud. And sweaty.
And a busted can of biscuits.
All in the name of wet hiney prevention.
I may have gotten a little carried away.
The kids weren’t sure what to think about the snow. It’s only snowed twice in significant amounts since they were born here in the tropics, and only Aiden was old enough to play in it. Malone fell once and his screaming reached such decibel proportions that we thought surely he’d lost a toe. And then we found the ice on his belly. The drama.
It was nice to breathe a little this weekend… (When said ski pants were not donned.)
I snapped a few quick photos with my phone at Stone Mountain to share this set of barn doors I spied. Loved the idea for a home. Or my own dream barn. Yep. I just used dream in a sentence. Let the angry mob torches commence. ;} I confess. I secretly dream of barns. We can dream of barns, right?
Such cute, colorful little buildings!
We spent our downtime afterwards, at the indoor hotel pool. Because what’s a trip for our kids without a pool? An unwritten requirement.
Father of the year totally got in while I sat on the side in my wool sweater and golashes. After I stopped sweating in ski pants it was too cold to swim. Too hot to sled. First world problems.
We had the best of hot and cold weather reversed, in one day.
And we enjoyed every moment of it.
It really is the simple things.
Touché, Mills offspring. Touché.
Here’s to small escapes. Little adventures.
And simple fun!