Breaking out of a hard, crunchy shell

It constantly amazes me how easy it is to live somewhere and never go anywhere or do anything. Our typical weekend is to play around the house or go to the same old park or, if we feel like getting out, to Home Depot or maybe the mall or downtown. During these gettings-out when we have a second to talk in grown-up language to each other, Dada and I occasionally discuss our future and whether it lies here or somewhere else. We have it very, very good where we are, but deep down we are nomads and the thought of leaving will always excite us, especially now that we are total middle-class stereotypes with our 2 kiddos and a house payment. (Break free! Stick it to the Man!) Anyway, the end of every such conversation is to agree that we can't seriously consider leaving Delanowhere until we get out of the house and experience things that our community has to offer. I mean, there's D.C. and New York two hours away, both places I've never been because I am a redneck girl through and through. There are theme parks, museums, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Amish Country, national parks, beaches, the Appalachians, the Poconos, all within easy driving distance. We have made a pact that, starting this summer, we are required as a family to blow some of Dada's hard-earned bucks once a month doing something we haven't done before. My suggestion box is open!

One drawback, of course, are these two highly mobile and opinionated toddler people. You put them on the ground and they run in opposite directions. It's hard for me to imagine testing any waters in the tourism arena on my own. And at this point, I should apologize for my horrible behavior to Jen, who has asked me on numerous occasions to accompany her and her brood to Discovery Point oopsPort Discovery. I keep putting it off, but I am slowly realizing that I do this because I am terrified of taking these two crazy boys anywhere big and exciting on my own. One day I will have to break down and just go places, me and the fellers, but the logistics of exactly how one takes two boys to public places and successfully brings both of them home... how this can be accomplished just doesn't register with me yet.

This is yet another nice thing about having company. If I want to check something out but Dada is otherwise occupied, it is usually not hard to convince our guests to abide by my touristy whims. A low-key whim I had while Uncle Chris and Aunt Jean were in town was to visit a small local dairy that makes ice cream, on the spot, from the milk of their very own jersey cows. They hyped it up as though you would get to visit the cows, but there was none of that going on when we got there, just a lot of people sitting on their beautifully landscaped front lawn eating ice cream. I didn't feel too swindled, since the ice cream was seriously the best I had ever tasted. I think my party agreed.





The boys enjoyed themselves, too. Thanks to Isaac's unconventional ice-cream-eating methods, I had to resort to bleach to get the chocolate out.