Meadow: this is a word that brings about visions of rolling, green fields, quiet and calm, a peaceful place. It a beautiful scene- one that invokes hope and joy to those who think of it.
Why, then, on God’s green earth is that our last name?
Had our last name fit my family’s personality a little bit better, we would be the Hurricane family.
My parents would be Joe and Wendy Hurricane, and they would be the parents of Walker, Hanna, Caroline, and Emmie Hurricane.
Alas, that is not our last name: it’s just a description of the devastation we leave in our wake.
This Thanksgiving, our family decided to do something different. We decided that we would go to the mountains for Thanksgiving- both the day of and the weekend after.
Simple enough, right?? Well…
If there is anything my family has ever proven, it’s that nothing is simple. In typical Meadows fashion, we ended up with a lively trip and lots of memories.
My family is full of strong personalities and more stories than we can count; the disasters we get ourselves into could be an entire blog unto itself. I won’t take it that far, though.
Here is a snapshot of the highs and lows, super funny and downright strange, parts of our trip, organized for your reading pleasure.
Quality or Questionable Quotes
Bear in mind, I’m only the faithful scribe. You decide which Meadows family member these quotes came from.
“Emmie just started humming. I’m gonna kill myself.”
“We need to get matching family tattoos. They can say, ‘Franklin, North Carolina, 2019.’”
“What city are we in, again?” “Hell.”
“Poppie (what Zayden calls my Dad and his grandfather), you sure are big and fat.”
“Poppie,” Zayden whispers lovingly at 5 a.m. as he strokes Poppie’s 5 o’clock shadow whilst Poppy tries to sleep. “I’m going to get you a razor that you can use that’s Paw Patrol because you can’t remember their names, and that will help you remember their names.” (A direct quote here)
“When you get old, you’re entitled to share your opinion.”
“Y’ALL… Let’s go get ponchos and walk a trail!!”
I will openly credit my mother with this one, as she shouted this out in the midst of a morning rain.
By the Numbers
$900– The cost of some “miracle cream” some random passerby slathered on my mother’s face. Needless to say, my father was not pleased about the anointing OR the price of the lotion.
149– The number of flights of stairs we climbed, according to Fitbit
27– The number of times my mother said, “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
21.79– The number of miles we walked while on this trip
10– The number of items my dad had to get after offering to go inside at one of our many gas station stops.
This was right before he regretted his decision, both to stop at the gas station and to have kids in the first place.
3– The number of time we stopped the car for Zayden to use the bathroom on the side of the road. A portion of these stops were for #2. I’m just saying.
1– The number of cups of coffee spilled on Zayden
Regrets, Really Poor Decisions, Recipes for Disaster
2 bathrooms and a Meadows family of 7 do not compute.
As we hike in the semi-darkness, in the rain, with the ground slick, AND are slipping on tree roots, Momma pops the question, “Do y’all know how many people died last year hiking on Mt. Everest?”
Giving Zayden, my 4 year old nephew, a cup of coffee is NOT the way to start off a day.
We stopped at a gas station and Walker, coffee connoisseur that he is, proceeds to put a shot of coffee in a cup, sniff it, and then pour it out in the trashcan. Five. Different. Times. I turn around and, lo and behold, the gas station attendant is watching him, sneering his displeasure AND his disbelief.
Teaching a 4 year old how to sound like he is passing gas is problematic.
We drove an hour to drive the scenic route only to discover that it was too cloudy for us to even see anything.
The floor in the 240-year-old house was settled and slanted- tricky territory when the entire family is made of nothing but left feet AND your sister-in-law is pregnant with twins.
Zayden, after a particularly rough day, was too ashamed of his behavior to go near Santa. When asked about his game plan to explain to Santa, he commented, “I’m just gonna lie.”
While studying the word history of “meadow,” I discovered that this word descended from the German term, “mow.”
Mow- as in, “We ‘bout to mow this thing to the ground.”
Now that seems about right.
Until next year, North Carolina; it’ll take you at least a year to recover.