Several weeks ago, when the snow pummeled the East Coast, my family awoke to a Friday gloriously free of anything to do. School was canceled; my husband’s office was closed; and with everyone in the house, I sure wasn’t going to get any work done.

My whole family loves to ski, and staring out at the snow was like being in Candy Land with our jaws wired shut. But how could we pull off a ski trip now? The roads weren’t plowed, and we had no one to pet-sit Ringo. As the day progressed, though, I kept peeking out the window, imagining how great it would be to get out there. When I headed out on a quick errand at 3 p.m. and found the roads surprisingly clear, I ran home and announced we were hitting the road.

We all began throwing our gear into duffels, while I dialed up every inn and motel up in ski country that might have a room. My neighbor agreed to take the dog. Within 45 minutes, we were out of the house. In the rush, I forgot to pack my husband’s ski jacket, but none of us was fazed. We stayed up late, joking around in our fleece jackets and playing a Monopoly game with missing pieces. Deep in that glorious snow, we carved memories as strong and as wonderful as any. And our kids learned that sometimes, we adults can kick loose too. Now that’s something nobody can plan for.