Our family tends to stay in town.  I hear about all these people taking crazy journeys with their families, walking the Pacific Crest Trail, camping for over a month, traveling the world on a few dollars a day.  And my idealistic self says, “Ooooh.”  To which my realistic self promptly whallops her on the head with the t-ball bat that the boys are currently “debating” over.

My first born, as a small tyke, was not so … containable, and my concept of trips and him combined to me is like herding kittens:  crazy, driven, really really fast kittens.  I forget that as he ages, he changes and can do things like respond to commands and stay in one general area and not throw himself off of high places and not break out of the nursery … each nursery …. at least twice.  And the second born doesn’t even know that there are other options beyond responding to the Mama Barks.

Our local church camp was trying a new program called “Family Getaways“:  basically a laid-back weekend of getting to hang out at the beach, eat yummy camp food, enjoy their grounds and equipment, and the best part for our family – kids aged 5 and under were free.  SWEET.  And if it bombed, I figured we were only two hours away from home (with a quick stop for squeaky cheese – a necessity).

Packing did not go well.  It was turning into:  Family, Get Away!  I told Hubby that I will no longer pack for myself and two small children by my lonesome again.  And then realized that I won’t:  it will be *three* small tykes.  Lovely.

But we made it to camp and got to stay in a *gorgeous* cabin that I want to permanently move into.  Or at least steal their bathrooms.  Of which we had access to two.  For four people.  Bliss!  We bundled up the kids and they slept in their twin beds while Hubby and I enjoyed a very new, firm queen-sized mattress (pregnancy gives me a bit of a Princess-and-the-Pea syndrome.  If only memory foam mattress toppers were a little more transportable).

We played lots of games in the shelter, some with people who wanted to play with small children, and some with people who didn’tsomuch.  Smores were eaten, songs were sung, children (of which there were really only four for the whole group, and two were girls:  well.behaved.girls.) ran amuck if that was their natural inclination.

The next day was more of the same.  Excellent food (that I didn’t have to prepare, but did have to clean up after thanks to a toddler who enjoyed giving depth to his wardrobe by sporting his meals).  Times to play.  Times to chill.  Times to talk with friends who work at the camp.

Flying a wicked shark kite.

Enjoy the Rocks of Twins.

Can you believe they let me have this?!!  Legally?!!

Golf ball go down the hooooooooole.

The Professional at work.

Be Free!

Golfing, frisbee-style.

Same table, different player (with one of my bestest bud’s kids).

DOH!

And no trip to that part of the coast is complete without a trip to The Cheese Factory.  Because we *love* cheese.  And ice cream.  And fudge.  And dried meat products.  We love health. 

Monitoring The Cheese Making Process in a very safe fashion.

Say Vegan Soy Products!

The trip had its good moments and its hard moments.  I’m trying to take it for what it was worth:  a weekend away, with my family, two of whom are small people who don’t respond to changing environments all that well.  Each one fell out of bed once.  Each one had meltdowns due to food issues or over-exertion or being told “no” (gasp) – adults included.  But times of changing scenery, enjoying God’s beauty, being with friends, watching the little guys make new friends – that makes it all worth it.  That, and the three packages of squeaky cheese that were consumed in the next week:  mmmm.

Random Remarks