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| The old dock weighs a ton and is more crooked than strait. But it's perfect. |
Escapism is a key tenet of our parenting. When we're feeling disconnected as a family, exhausted or over scheduled, I jump ship. Instead of facing the deluge of filling the days with baseball, science camp, language camp, swim team, soccer and summer school - I turn tail and run.
A lot of people think I'm nuts, but it is the best mistake I make every year.
Every year right after school gets out, I pack the car and we head up North. I grew up this way. A few years before I was born, my parents bought a run down fishing resort (seven tiny cabins) with another family. The main dock was submerged in the lake and people had been using the woods as their own personal garbage dump. The Arch Mother imagined it to be a get-a-way for the family but also as something for the teenagers to do to stay out of trouble.
At the time, they didn't realize they'd be having another baby. I wonder if they would have done it if they'd have known I was coming along. Those first few years involved a lot of work cleaning, painting and fixing. Actually, its still a lot of work but conveniently my siblings and I have grown up into people who love to work.
The Lake taught my siblings and I how to share space, work together, make decisions, handle conflict, give generously and receive graciously and as The Arch Mother would emphasize, how to treasure family and have fun as a family unit.
So I spent every summer in this small town in northern Minnesota. I got my first job at 13 and stayed working summers there until I was 23.
My parents, siblings and I continue to share the old resort. It is more or less the same - though now you can tell it is well cared for and loved. We don't operate it - we keep it packed with the 41 grandchildren and 4 great grandchildren. The Athlete and I bought the cabin next door when it came up for sale (just as irresponsible and unnecessary as my parents purchase nearly 40 years before). I also promptly had another baby. The Athlete, God bless him, drives a lot of hours during the summer and works shorter weeks, but much longer days. He arrives Thursday night and leave early, early on Monday morning.
It was another great, bad decision.
We've had a long winter, a nonexistent spring and I'm pretty much ready to just launch into summer. So as I'm prepping the kids for the end of school all I can think about is getting away.
We don't do summer sports. We say goodbye to our wonderful neighbors. Kids tell everyone they'll see them in September. I trust that my friendships will survive a few months without lots of face to face time. I let my yard go to seed. I pretty much let everything go to seed.
We stock up on books, board games, puzzles, swimsuits, sunscreen and play clothes. And we head out of town. I know we're lucky. I know not everyone can do this. I know that not everyone would want to either. We proudly hang out with wood ticks, leeches and tons of mosquito's. We feel very blessed, and we don't mind the critters if they don't mind us.
But the gift is about slowing down, about unplugging, about letting a day unfold and not be scheduled out.
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| The neighbors are noisy. |
My parents started out with one phone between the seven cabins, eventually came cell phones but the coverage was spotty at best, Now everyone seems to have WiFi and iPads. The trick is going to be unplugging even when we don't have to unplug. Leaving the cell phone turned off so that the only ring tone is the loon echoing off the lake or the hummingbird wings at the feeder.
I'm cheating. I'm getting our of town. And I can't wait. Every once in a while it's OK to break the rules.
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| Not every creature is sweet. But they are all cool. |
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