It's no huge secret that I have an odd infatuation with my house. Like I mean, I LOVE being home. It's not that my house is amazing, by any stretch of the imagination, or that my house is immaculately clean. It's neither of those things in fact. But when it comes to making travel plans, the thing that always holds me back is the thought of staying the night somewhere else. This isn't a new thing for me, in fact I talked about it years ago, here. Ever since I had the kids, I literally panic at the thought of what might happen at someone else's house. I worry that their cute little fingers might smudge a perfectly clean window, or that their curious wandering minds might venture into fragile, breakable collectibles. I worry that they'll mess things up.
This weekend the kids and I traveled to Grand Rapids to celebrate Pulaski Days with JM and his family. After catching the last ten minutes of the parade, we spent the remaining part of the afternoon at the park. That night we were going to be staying at JM's dad's house since they were out of town. I literally couldn't enjoy myself because I was so worried what the kids might mess up at their house. It's not that the kids are heathens and would intentionally destroy things, that's definitely not the case, but they are just kids and things do happen. But I wasn't willing to risk that happening at his dad's house. After a couple hours of stressing out, I made the decision to leave. The kids and I left MI around 10pm and got home, safely, around 1:15am...and it was SO worth it to be able to sleep at home.
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