We survived. That’s the headline. Four humans, one vehicle, nine hours one way, and a hotel room the size of a large closet. If that’s not a test of family durability, I don’t know what is.

And you know what? It actually wasn’t that bad on the way down. On the way back? Well, that was another story. By hour eight, even the sound of someone breathing wrong was enough to spark a war. Still, we got home generally unscathed—though I think our hotel room walls are probably still echoing with sighs, groans, and the occasional teenage eye-roll so loud it could’ve registered on the Richter scale.

But here’s the truth: it was worth it. Every cramped mile, every moment of frustration, every “whose socks are those on the floor?” argument. It was memories. Sometimes messy ones, sometimes sweet ones, but memories all the same. And isn’t that the whole point?

Watching Them Grow

Ashley got her “back-to-school” haul, and every outfit she tried on made her look less like my little girl and more like the young woman she’s quickly becoming. And I’ll be honest: it’s terrifying. Terrifying in the way that makes you want to hit pause on life, but also kind of beautiful. She’s growing, she’s becoming her own person, and all I can do is watch, proud and scared at the same time.

Evan, on the other hand, was gutted that La Ronde was closed the one week we were there. The kid had his heart set on thrill rides, and suddenly they weren’t an option. I felt like I needed to make it up to him—even though I probably didn’t have to. That’s the dad-guilt tax you pay, right? Spending money you don’t really need to spend, planning things you don’t really need to plan, all because you want them to feel like the world didn’t just pull the rug out from under them.

And in the end, he was happy. Ashley was happy. Laura was happy. And when they’re happy, I’m happy. Simple math.

Marriage in the Trenches

Let me say this: I love my wife. Always have, from the moment I met her. She’s way out of my league, and I know it. From day one, I’ve always felt like I had to give just a little more than the average guy just to keep up. And sometimes—too often—I forget to show her how much she means to me.

Truth is, I use her as my emotional punching bag when I shouldn’t. I unload my stress on her when she doesn’t deserve it. But she’s still there. She’s always been there. Through losing my mom, through my breakdowns, through every messy stage of life. She could’ve walked away back then, found someone easier, someone less complicated. But she didn’t. She stuck. And I’m lucky—damn lucky—that she did.

Marriage at this stage of life is strange. We’ve graduated from the “expert infant” level—no more diapers or sleepless nights—but now we’re playing the “pre-teen” level, and it’s a whole new game. We get caught up in the kids, in bills, in schedules, and sometimes we forget to actually see each other. Days blur. Conversations get shorter. And we drift without even realizing it.

But here’s the thing: there’s no one else I’d rather be drifting beside. No one else I’d rather fight through this stage of life with. She’s still my person. Always has been. Always will be.

The Dad Job

This trip was her idea. She pulled it together, she made it happen. I went along because that’s what dads do. I don’t really care about shopping or sightseeing or cramming into hotel rooms. But I care about them. My specialty isn’t planning the perfect vacation—it’s making sure everyone else is smiling, even when I’m not.

That’s the curse and blessing of fatherhood: you put yourself last more often than not. And while that’s noble, it’s not always healthy. Because if I’m not happy, how can I be fully present with them? That’s something I’m still learning. That’s my marathon right now—not the physical one, but the mental one.

Eyes on Boston

But speaking of marathons—don’t think I’ve forgotten about Boston. That dream is still alive. It’s not just a fantasy for me. The path is simple, though not easy: qualify. And to qualify, I’ve got to run another marathon.

So, the next step? Dusting off a training plan, shaking off vacation-mode, and getting back to work. Episode 15 will probably smell like sweat and sound like sore legs, but that’s the price of chasing Boston.

Lesson Learned

So what’s the takeaway from this episode? It’s simple: sometimes life is messy, cramped, and full of sighs and disappointments—but those are the same ingredients that make memories. The family road trip wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t have to be. It was ours.

And in the middle of the chaos, I was reminded of two things:

1. My kids are growing faster than I’m ready for.
2. My wife is still the best teammate I could ever ask for.

Boston can wait a little longer. Because right now? This stage of life, with all its chaos and beauty, is a marathon of its own. And I’m just lucky to still be running it with them.