Traveling with children is like eating an oreo cookie- the middle is the best part

This weekend we took our annual winter trip with my side of the family to Deep Creek Lake in the northwestern part of Maryland.  The first time I ever went there was to the ski resort with my oldest sister when I was 11 and it was my first time skiing.  Years later, I went camping in the summer at the Lake with my best friends, my oldest sister, her husband, and their friends when I was in college.  A.J. and I have been going to Deep Creek at least once every winter since we were engaged.  I even “taught” A.J. to ski there though he will tell you it also happened to be the same time I tried to kill him.  And he might try to tell some crazy story about me getting off the ski lift at the midway point up the mountain which he wasn’t prepared for and yelling for him to “just jump” and him leaping in skis from the lift about 10 or 15 feet up in the air, falling in a splat on the ground and the lift having to be stopped.  He might further embellish this tale by telling you that I had mistakenly taken him on one of the intermediate slopes instead of the beginner slopes.  I guess it is a bit different learning to ski at age eleven and learning to ski in your late twenties- my bad!

So now that we go there with my family and there are so many young kiddos(14 to be exact), we don’t usually ski.  Some of the group goes tubing and depending on snowfall, we might go sledding or walking out on the lake if it is frozen.  But really the weekend is about a whole lot of family bonding.  The weekends with my family started out as a Christmas present from my dad to my mom four years and five grandchildren ago.  Now there are 24 of us gathered in one house.

 Each year we have rented a different house.  This year’s house had a new treat- an indoor pool which thankfully came with an alarm that would go off if any of the kids had decided to sneak in without an adult.  Luckily this didn’t happen.  It was bad enough that Sawyer could not contain himself any time he was on the pool deck, he would just toddle on over and leap spread eagle into the pool.  Thank God for swim vests as well as my years spent lifeguarding at a wave pool.  All that was really missing was my whistle which would have come in useful for telling my father to stop trying to drown my nephew George by hurling him through the air into the deep end.  Or to stop Josie from running around the pool deck and wiping out as she rounded the corner, giving herself a very painful raspberry right next to her bottom- ouch!  For what it’s worth I had yelled at her to stop running, pretty much five seconds before she hit the concrete.  The injury led to Josie having an all-out meltdown for about an hour and refusing to wear any pants other than her underwear for the next twenty-four hours.  Once the wound was on the mend and covered in bandages, she agreed to put some sweats on though not without thrashing her body around as if she were possessed.  My father told me I should enroll her in acting classes.  I told him that Josie will be moving in with him and my mom for her high school years.  

Despite the lack of snowfall, we did manage to spend a lot of time outdoors, especially on Sunday.  The kids were content with whatever snowpiles they could find.  We had a fire in the outdoor firepit and roasted marshmallows and had s’mores.  In a stroke of genius, we decided to do this while it was still light out in the afternoon.  Maybe it doesn’t sound quite as picturesque as if it were night time, but trying to keep 12 children with sticks and fiery marshmallows contained is much easier in daylight especially when they decide it is time for a duel. 

The weekend was great.  I got some much needed down time to hang out with my fam and the Gray Goose survived another voyage to the mountains.  We have finally gotten the Goose at max capacity. If we take a longer trip than three days, we may need to invest in one of those bubbles that goes on the roof of the car.  Traveling with children is like eating an oreo cookie- the middle is the best part. By middle I mean the part from when you have actually arrived at your destination and unloaded your car of all its contents and all its passengers until the moment when you have managed to slam all the doors and trunk shut before heading home in such a manner that your car should have a label saying “do not shake: contents under pressure”.  One false move and the car might just explode.