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Three Kids and a…Bowl of Spilled Soup (Or How Family Travel Makes Me a Better Momma)
Many minutes after her final tuck in, my biggest little sat up and started spewing questions at me about our upcoming overnight flight. Through my grumpy, impatient protests, she was relentless in her need for answers. How long she would be on the plane before she had to sleep? What pillow would she use? Who would she sit with? What would she wear? Would it be a full nights sleep? Will we be fed breakfast? Dinner? A snack? How many movies should she have with her? Lovies? Where would they go? I could see her imagining herself there, snuggled into the pocket of the airplane seat, preparing for an adventure. Day…
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Three Kids and a…Mother’s Day Hike: an Ode to My Father
There is no reason a grown man should wake up at 2 am infectiously giddy. He has no right to be singing about going to “Wally World” and moving swiftly, floating even, turning on lights, rousing children. He shouldn’t have the ability to make a house pulse with life when just a week earlier it had been flatlining with the comings and goings of the everyday. And when that man then has to take his once sleep-weary children, put them in the car, and proceed to drive 1500 miles, there are even fewer reasons said man should be anything less than entirely spent and growling. He should have every right to…
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Three Kids and a Wrong Hotel Room
I was prepared for this trip. I knew what to expect. I had a plan.
