We have a family tradition for Spring Break where we escape to the Oregon Coast with our good friends for a few days. Usually, it’s raining sideways and so windy that we can only fly our kites for a few minutes before jumping in the hot tub to thaw out. We love to sit by the fireplace as we watch and listen to the monstrous ferocity of the ocean devouring the shore. The cold wind whips in through the cracked window and sprinkles us all with the salty mist of the sea air. We bundle up in snow suits and run around the sand dunes for a while on our way to find a meal in one of the mom-and-pop diners on the deserted front street of this summer surfer village. Most of the boardwalk rides aren’t even open for the season yet, but the nostalgic walk through the lonely ghost town holds the promise of hope that summer is right around the corner. We can still find salt water taffy and take a spin on the indoor carousel. We look forward to this trip all year, and start planning all of the pit stops we’ll make along the way well in advance of the actual journey.
But … that didn’t happen this year. My husband had a prior engagement with
the golf course a new client this week, and I am working on a time-intensive project that does not lend itself well to a hotel room at the beach. Our friends were invited on another adventure in the mountains. And, if I’m being entirely honest … I’ve seen enough rain this year to be perfectly content not trekking all the way to the coast to find some more. And now, here we are on Friday of Spring Break with no quantifiable adventure to show for it. On a normal day, this would be a depressing fact for me to accept. But, since you know I’m in full planning mode for our year-long adventure, I think this is a pill I can swallow.
Still though, our kids have been champions this week as we’ve juggled them back and forth between client meetings and workloads. We’ve even cleared our schedules for a couple of afternoons to get out of the house with them and go to the beach or to play at the park. Each time, they full-out naked protest. You don’t know the naked protest, you say? Oh, well, that’s where they like to run around the house in nothing but their underwear for some bizarre (and unmodeled) reason, and then refuse to get dressed to go anywhere, because they just want to play at home.
They have built forts, designed contraptions with LEGOs, painted posters, driven their Jeeps around the yard, waded through the moat, and even agreed to take naps. So long as we don’t ask them to leave the house. I guess this is indicative of our “always on-the-go” lifestyle, so I suppose a little rebellion won’t hurt them. I have to admit. It’s kind of nice to just park ourselves at home and enjoy our peaceful little sanctuary of minimalism.
So, here I am … balancing the relaxation of their Spring Break with a desire to do something a little special to mark the fact that they just had a week off. I think I may have just found the perfect end to their perfect week … an evening of HOP at the Drive-In Theater. Where we’ll finally be able to use the fold-the-seats-flat functionality of the Honda while we cozy in to a nest of pillows, blankets, popcorn, and candy.
I am determined to have an adventure this week. Even if I have to blindfold them to get them in the car.