Thursday, October 8, 2015

On Getting There

The next several posts are going to be me reliving every moment of our two weeks in our happiest place on earth.
This means it may bore some of you, but for the sake of this being our chronicling of memories, and my love of sea and sun, I'm going to enjoy this. (The beach posts, not the boring you part.)
So I'll start at the beginning;
Once upon a time, there was a girl who was inherently programmed to live on tradition. That is, once a tradition is established it is utter blasphemy to mention a change or a discontinuation of said tradition.
This girl, ok me, I have the issue, I'm working through this and letting go of my love of tradition and classics, just a bit, not a lot, but a bit. But I am the mother of several little men who were genetically programmed with the same love.
And so three beach trips ago when we stopped at a hole in the wall BBQ place in Currituck and repeated it the next year, well, it may as well be a family member we need to visit each trip from here on after in the minds of my men.
And when we stopped at a farmer's market with a rope swing and icecream machines hooked up to tractor engines, well you better believe we'll be there again, same time same place next year.
Because my boys don't forget. They remember exactly where that rope swing hides behind the broken barn and wind chime collection.
They remember the tins of peanut brittle and honey roasted pecans free for the tasting.
They remember the BBQ place with the the pig statue, the 8 different kinds of sauces, and the tables outside to eat on.
They remember the broken fire truck in the field nearby to climb on and explore after they abandon their food from being "too excited".
We won't be making the same trip on repeat over and over through the years, and I'm ok with this. I may go through a momentary loss when I realize we won't be stopping at the same farmer's market, but I'll get over it because I have a competing love for new adventures.
But my boys have a ways to go in overcoming their genetic makeup for tradition love. And that's ok with me because they crack me up.
Their growing up is going by fast and I know it will only go by faster. So if we need to stop and get bagels before we leave town to make sure we start the trip off right, then I will totally be standing in line at Einsteins Bagels.
And if stopping by broken down fire engines and rope swings brings every joy and giddyness to a bunch of little guys then I'm all about repeating it. These moments are fleeting, precious, and worth reliving. 
But the real tradition is the beach, and this was only just about getting us there...

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