We went to Hell’n back in Georgia…

It’s suppose to look like this…

Or this…

Or even this…

But five miles down the road and suddenly Family Vacation is looking an awful lot like a documentary.  Words like, “If you punch your bother again, I’m going to punch you.” and “Seriously! Can you not just sit there for 5 minutes without TOUCHING each other?!” come out of your mouth and then suddenly you remember… oh, yeah.  This is why everyone thought we were nuts when we moved overseas with kids.  (I can’t even tell you how many people volunteered to keep the kids while we were gone… even though the plan was to be gone FOREVER.)

Then this happens…

And this…

And then this…

And you realize all over again that wanderlust isn’t just for the young or even just for the retired.  It’s even for us, in the middle… in the middle of the burbs, in the middle of the school year, in the middle of soccer and homework and everything else that brings us to the brink of insanity… because it doesn’t have to be perfect.  It doesn’t even have to be amazing.  It just has to be about us going somewhere, anywhere, really, together.  

An hour away from home we landed in Hell in Georgia, or at least that is what we always joked Helen, GA was called when we were kids.  I can’t say that the hot dog was the best we’ve ever had (though the pretzel was pretty right on) and I can’t guarantee that loud motorcycles won’t be blasting through town, but if you are anything like us, you won’t care.  

Wanderlust, when you are a family, isn’t about the destination or the food, but about the experience.   The very definition of wanderlust is an intense desire to roam, but I would go a step further and add that the wanderlusting soul craves a satisfaction of curiosity.  You don’t have to leave your own yard to be curious, but every now and then it feels pretty freakin’ good to get out of town.  Because when you go to Hell and back with your family and you manage to survive, you return with an immense appreciation for your home… and a few great stories that are likely to be told and retold for years to come.

Like your family maniacally running into the grocery store hunting for something… ANYTHING… Hunger Games style to feed your hangry 8 year old who moments before was punching everyone with such precision that even McGregor would have been impressed with…

Or the fact that we all came ready to eat German food and the number one recommendation was a barbecue joint called, “Big Daddy’s” because nothing says German village quite like onion rings and pulled pork.