Perennial Mayhem: The Move to the Lake



Each summer, in a blend of pure temporary insanity, a Rosie the Riveter-esque attitude, a love for adventure and “there’s got to be some perks about having an old house” justification, I ask my husband, “we’re going to rent our house this year again, right?

You see, my family never really vacationed growing up. Sure I was taken as a tag along on my Dad’s business trips to Washington, DC and Reno, Nevada– but picturesque family vacay? Didn’t really happen.

Instead, I was an amazing companion to my friends on their family vacations and loved going to my aunt’s camp on the Susquehanna River. That’s where I first fell in love with the camp life.

So, every summer since Parker was born, we pack up our entire house into two cars, make two trips, one hour each way– and settle into a local lake for 6-8 weeks.

Being teachers and living in a touristy town– this is a no brainer. The horse racing season is about six weeks bringing many vacationers and workers to the town. Free vacation and all you have to do is—- move out of your house. For six weeks. With two children. Easy, right?


Parker was just a little squirt of a person when we first did it. Six months old. We were all “we just bought a boat and we are a big deal– see? Kids don’t slow us down!”

Some of the best memories of my life have been spent on this lake. Already my children have memories of lazy summer afternoons spent here, amidst all the stunning beauty of the Adirondacks.

Plus I am instilling the very important qualities of learning to be a hobo in my children. They see that we can, in fact, live out of just our belongings in our car. We can learn to sleep, eat and play in another person’s home. We can learn to slow down and get out of the rat race completely.

But living the hobo life is not for the faint of heart. I had a bag of shoes in my car for a week straight as we changed residences.

“But Mommy, I’m not wearing any shoes.”

“It’s fine, I have more in the car.”

“But Mommy, I need a snack.”

“That’s fine, groceries are on the car too.”

“Mommy, why do we keep shoes and good in the car?”

[This is where I give a blank state because it’s a completely valid question:)]

And, to add crazy to crazy, this year my husband was working on the west coast while I made the move. Was it hard? Yes? Was it exhausting? Extremely. Was is totally and completely worth it times ten? You betcha.

But as I type this, I sit in a semi-unpacked camp with two water logged children napping upstairs and think, no matter how hard and frustrating and tired I am, there’s truly no place I’d rather be.



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