Have you ever wanted to get away so bad, that you would do it, even if your inner voice kept screaming at the top of its lungs not to?
I did, and I ignored the sane part of me.
We had planned to get away early on Saturday to John's parents house, as they live part way to where we were staying for a few nights.
Early did not happen for several reasons. John's work technology crapped out. Packing for five people. Laundry issues...'nough said.
John's parents, God bless them, had offered to watch the kids so that we could catch dinner and a movie. Caught a yummy dinner; movie, not so much. Who decides that people want to watch some of the crap that gets made, anyway?
The next morning, after a visit from the Sleep Chaser (Joshua), we got another late start, by choice. The kids have such a magnificent time with their grandparents. I want to be as patient, loving, giving and wise as them, but I guess that is your reward for your children surviving your parenting. When we left, we hit bad weather.
I know all places on Earth experience bad weather. But in Florida, as you are heading towards the promise of sunny, warm beaches, bad weather translates into "Oh, crap!"
Oh, crap, we just booked two nights. Oh crap, we have three kids that are stir crazy in the car. Oh crap, I can't see while I am driving. It was raining on and off while we drove, with dark skies looming overhead. But when we drove up to the hotel, God unleashed. Torrential rain, lightening, thunder, the whole kit and caboodle. Thanks, Big Guy!
We decided against unloading the car and the children and opted instead to getting dinner first. Great idea, right? Except that the weather really wasn't conducive to getting out of the car. And it was COLD. Did I mention that I had not (in my extensive, mad, packing skills) packed anything heavier than a t-shirt for the kids or myself?