When in doubt, go to Grammie's house!

Yesterday I was faced with a long day of nothing, and a possibly bum tire. Something in me said "Go East grasshopper, East to the motherland" ...MY mother's land that is. So, in about five minutes, kids were loaded with snacks and sippies, clothes were thrown into bags, and we set out for the 2 hour journey to my parents' house and the only tire place my father really wants me to go to. At the age of 32, taking a healthy interest in my car is my dad's "fatherly" duty that he is not about to wholy relinquish to any son-in-law. Ah, the bliss of my mother's home: it is small, it is crowded with bric a brac (or knicknacks for you non-Okies), and it has about 150lbs of dogs living in it. Still, it is my home and I feel instantly relaxed there (as in the kind of relaxed that coma patients experience). And as a bonus, my children LOVE it. Why wouldn't they, they get juice that hasn't been watered down, Horton Hears a Who is on a non-stop track, and my mom lets them play with all of her previously mentioned heirlooms and decorative nonesense. And if they get bored, my father has a garage and shop full of tetnus-inducing preschooler fun! So, that's my advice for the day...if you get to the point where you just can't take it anymore, load up those little monsters and head for a sleepover at the nearest semi-sane relative. Just getting out of town for even a little bit is always a fun new adventure for the kids, hopefully a much needed break for mom, and probably a pleasant surprise for dad too (much as he should deny it).