The Apple Doesn't Fall Far from the Tree (Thank Goodness)

If you haven't met my parents, let me tell you right now that they are two of the most wonderful people on earth.  The childhood that they gave my brother and me was full of incredible road trips with memories of amazing sights, unique experiences, and inside jokes.  My favorite childhood memories largely come from the treks we took across the country in the summer, during which we picnicked in parks, stayed in Motel 6's, and spent money on the more important stuff like admission fees to historic homes, zoos chock full of animals, and interesting museums.  I've always wanted to recreate those kinds of memories with my own family when I became a wife and mother.

Essential to the Krech road trip experience was staying in a clean but somewhat low-end motel, because why spend a lot of money on a place where you're only going to be for a short bit of time?  All you really need is a bed and a shower and an ice machine.  And we traveled with the most enormous Igloo brand ice chest. (Or, at least, it seemed enormous at the time.  In adult terms, it's not so gigantic.  I remember being a little underwhelmed when I recently inherited it after my parents moved.)  Still, it took a lot of effort to haul that thing when it was full of food and ice, as evidenced by the fact that it took both my Dad and my brother to cart it from car to picnic table.  In fact, my brother coined the verb "to Ig" on one of our trips, and it quickly became part of the Krech vernacular:

"Are you ready to Ig?"
"Let's Ig."
"I'll bring in the rest after we're done Ig-ing."

Ig-ing also required quite a bit of mental preparation beforehand, and hard breathing and groaning afterwards, in case you couldn't tell.

But I digress.  Integral to the low-end motel experience were the two breakfast options:

1. Mom would go out early in the morning, while Ryan and I were still asleep and Dad stayed with us and read his 25 cent newspaper he'd acquired in the motel lobby, and she would come back with a dozen donuts and chocolate milk in hand.  OR,
2. We'd get Slams at Denny's. 

Now, most women hate to be told that they're turning into their mothers.  But I take it as quite a compliment, and hope that I can be half the mom to Evie that my Mom is to me.  So, on our first morning here at the motel (Travelodge - a clean, low-end motel that has beds, a shower, and an ice machine, though we don't have an Igloo on this trip), when Evie woke up fussy and was clearly done sleeping for the night, I took her with me to forage for donuts and chocolate milk.  I came back with both, plus OJ since Seth doesn't drink milk, and plastic cups, Danish butter cookies, and a couple of other snacks for us to have since we were going to be at the motel for a week.  Our little mini fridge was stocked, and we had a lovely breakfast.  And I felt like Mom, both in the sense of feeling like my own mother, and in the sense of feeling like a Mom to Evie.  Even though Evie wouldn't be partaking in the donuts and chocolate milk directly, I still felt like a good gatherer.

And, it should be noted that yesterday, we got Slams at Denny's across the street, with a nice 10% discount for being motel guests.  It's the little things, and the funny family traditions, that get me feeling nice and parent-y.

So I just want to say, thanks, Mom and Dad, for the memories of road trips, both the sights that everyone else gets to experience, and these Krech-only moments I've come to cherish.  And for the ones I'm sure we'll make in the future when Evie is lucky enough to have Granna and Grannadaddy along for the road trips.