The Move: Days 8, 9, and 10

We're getting our kicks on Route 66 . . . really. On Saturday we connected to the de-comissioned federal highway in our travels to the West. It is interesting to think that the days of old Route 66 were the days of the convertible, of slow-moving cross-country travel, of a very personal discovery of various demographics of people and cultures within the United States. The highways have progressed now-a-days the way the food service industry did . . . to be fast and impersonal. In many ways, my time with my wife and kids along old Route 66 has taken me away from the fast and busy pace of our last residence and my future job and given me the opportunity to have a very personal and meaningful vacation with my wife and kids. We have loved visiting family and friends, but, to be perfectly honest, I have also loved watching our family become better friends by trying to take care of each other during this trip. Long days in the car are not very exciting, but we laugh together, take breaks to visit friends and family, to swim at the hotel (tonight's activity), and to just be there for tender or funny moments I would otherwise miss while at work. I am grateful that we could swim together at the hotel pool tonight, just us. My son almost swam across the pool. Our daughters clung to us for dear life, but they also enjoyed splashing and laughing with us. My wife and I also got to work off some of our dinner. I am amazed that although we have been homeless for almost two weeks, our children have risen to the occasion. I feel happy that they seem to feel that home is wherever your family is, even when it is in a minivan crossing the U.S. I admire them for demonstrating such patience and maturity at such a young age (warning--this is not always the case). I love that we sometimes sleep together in the same room. I love that the two oldest have been sleeping together and becoming better friends. I love that they have me tell them stories at night. Tonight's story was about three fish, following our swim. Last nights was about three little doggies, following our visit with my brother, his wife, and their dogs. The night before, I might have told a superhero story, or something similar. Some other examples of little moments I will always treasure are when my oldest daughter got a treat (a bag of popcorn) and shared it with me while I was driving, and watching my youngest daughter discover herself in the hotel mirror then try to get her reflection to follow her by pointing and grunting at it when it didn't follow. There have also been many moments where the kids hold hands, or sleep peacefully in the car, or make each other laugh. There are many moments where my wife or I sit in the back on the floor of the car to play with them, feed them, or talk to them. Don't worry, there have also been rough moments. Other highlights, especially of today, were that my kids learned some of the lessons from my son's preschool that his teacher is sending us by email. Another is watching how restless they were after we finally arrived at the hotel after our longest day in the car-ten hours. It was as if we had opened the cages of little monkeys that had been penned up all day. They were literally bouncing off the walls at the hotel, the restaurant, and the pool. We had to remind ourselves why they were having such a hard time listening to stay sane ourselves. I think they got all their energy out at the pool. I am grateful for our friends and family who took us to a farmstead, let us play with their dogs, or just let us stay and chat with them for a while on days 8 and 9. But I am surprised at how much I have enjoyed our day alone together on Day 10. I expected it to be our worst, but our children were wonderful in the car and tons of fun at the pool and in the hotel room. I think of that movie, "RV," where there were parents who raised their kids on the road in an RV along Route 66. Sometimes I think that wouldn't be a bad life, once the kids are a little more independent that is.