Who’s ready for Hanukkah?! You know I am

Posted on December 5, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

It’s that time of year when I drag the 3-foot metal Hanukkah sign out of our attic, along with many other Hanukkah bins.

I actually did it two weeks ago. I’m leaving tomorrow for Austria and I’m back in Boston on the 14th right when everyone will be lighting candles for the first night of Hanukkah.

And while my children seem unconcerned about me missing lighting candles, the concern for presents is real.

They are wrapped and ready in our library/office/gym/recycling catch-all room. They are covered in a large sheet. BB knows they’re there, but I didn’t tell RB because she’s RB.

RB wandered into that room to pick out a book for bedtime. She has plenty of books in her room, but it’s a brilliant excuse to go back downstairs.

She wound her way around the odd covered heap and said,

“Is that the wooden car all covered up?”

“I don’t know.” I really don’t know. What the heck is she talking about? Wooden car?

RB struggled to get access to the bookshelf she wanted. She groaned,

“GRRR! This wooden car is in the way! Can we uncover it?”

“No!”

She settled on a book and marched out. As she passed Captain she complained,

“That wooden car is in there all covered up and it’s in the way!”

I swear to you I have ZERO idea what she’s talking about, but obviously she has no idea those are the Hanukkah presents. May they still be unwrapped when I get home.

I have said I have enough Hanukkah tchotchkes, but that feeling only lasts until the next amazing Hanukkah sighting at Home Goods.

Two weeks ago I dropped the girls at Hebrew School, ran some errands and low and behold I found myself in the parking lot, with many other women, waiting for the doors of Home Goods to open at 9:30am.

It was before Thanksgiving, so I wasn’t sure if there would be a Hanukkah display yet, but always worth checking when I’m in the neighborhood.

There was! I went straight for the little, lone, blue table in a sea of red Christmas. And pink Christmas. And turquoise Christmas. Really any color Christmas.

There were two little pink Hanukkah houses. Ah I thought to myself, these are perfect for my traditional Hanukkah village that didn’t exist until last year.

Most of this repurposed Christmas stuff for Hanukkah didn’t exist at all ten years ago. I’m not oblivious to the fact that they’re just taking things and putting menorahs on them instead of Santa, but I’m here for it. Or in Home Goods for it.

As I perused the several pink Hanukkah houses, I felt someone beside me, another mom from Hebrew School!

I was so excited to see her! I have never had competition at the Hanukkah table before.

She sighed and said,

“I don’t decorate for any holidays. I don’t like tchotchkes.”

“You don’t like tchotchkes?” This store is a giant tchotchke.

“No, but my kids are begging for me to decorate.”

“You would die if you saw my house.”

I regard my shopping cart filled with more Hanukkah tchotchkes. Looks perfect.

You’ll be impressed to know that I popped into Home Goods again this week, saw a giant, pink, adorable, stuffed dreidel with legs so short and thin AND I DIDN’T BUY IT.

Also there are now TWO small Hanukkah tables in Home Goods. We’ll see if there’s anything worthwhile left when I get home.

Say a prayer for Tutu, Snowflurry and Menschie. Those are our elves on the shelves and our Mensch on the bench.

I’m not sure who believes what anymore and I have my doubts that they’re going to move when I’m away.

I mentioned this to BB, that they might not move and she looked horrified.

“Why wouldn’t they move?!”

“Oh I don’t know, they might be so busy they forget?”

She shakes her head.

The other day RB told me,

“I believe in reindeer, but I don’t believe in reindeer who fly.”

“I feel the same way.”

We also all still agree that everyone lives in the Land of Make Believe. So either everyone is suspending disbelief to believe in that guy from Israel and two gals from the North Pole, or I have no idea what’s going on.

BB and RB are running around making homes for them, writing them notes and feeding them. As BB reached for a bag of gummies to offer them, I joked,

“You should probably make sure those are kosher if you’re leaving them out for Menschie.”

“Kosher?”

“Does Menschie keep kosher? I don’t even know.”

BB started examining the bag, eyebrows knit in concern. Does she really think he’s real? It’s only last year he arrived after she asked me for him.

So will our magical cast of characters still be alive and well when I return or will they be hungry and stuck in the same corner all week? Only time will tell.

This morning they’re very happy in the Hanukkah village of yesteryear or actually of this week. It’s very new.

A friend from book club has expressed a desire to see my Hanukkah tchotchkes. I’ll be home Dec 14th and anyone is welcome to stop by. Hanukkah shoes optional, but I’ll be wearing mine.

Spending my life savings at the Scholastic Book Fair

Posted on November 19, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

The Scholastic Book Fair. I thought I must’ve already posted about it at some point, but after a not-so-thorough search of my blog, it appears I haven’t.

It has taken five years of overpriced, fluffy, animal-faced journals for me to reach a breaking point.

Multiple times a year the Scholastic book fair has arrived at BB’s school.

The first year I sent BB with $20. Apparently that was enough for 1.5 books. Or toys disguised as books.

The next time I sent her with $30. It’s hard to remember, but I’m pretty sure she came home with no books.

The next time I gave her $40 and said,

“You can buy one non-book item and the rest must be for books. You should also buy a book for your classroom.”

BB came home with two books and another furry journal to join our animal, notebook family. They’re all still waiting for someone to write in them.

BB would try to tell you that she needs the matching fluffy pen for $7.99.

Now it’s RB’s turn. I can’t remember if BB had the Scholastic Book Fair in kindergarten. Those were odd, end of COVID days. But either way, it was not a memorable moment.

This week I gave RB $30 and told her she could buy one non-book item and the rest should be for books.

RB is renowned for making terrible choices, so really it’s on me for giving her $30 and expecting a decent outcome.

Months ago I found nail polish painted all over the downstairs bathroom sink. I took away all of RB’s nail polish. She was unbothered. Warning sign NUMERO UNO.

Meanwhile if I take anything away from BB she’s heartbroken, never mind that she wouldn’t in a million years do something she knows she’s not supposed to do.

So imagine my surprise when I asked RB about the odd sparkly stuff in her doll’s hair.

She looked at me. I asked again,

“What did you put in your doll’s hair?!”

“Nail polish.”

“NAIL POLISH?!?!!”

“Yeah.”

“I thought I took away all of your nail polish?!!!”

“I still had some in my room.”

Shame on me for letting this happen again!

I may now have eliminated RB’s access to nail polish, but only time will tell, because you sure as heck can’t take her word for it.

This Monday I gave RB $30 and off she went. I gave BB $40 so she could also buy a book for her classroom.

I did not give that additional $10 to RB because that was one too many instructions for someone who’s not prone to following any instructions.

BB, not happy with $40, tried to make the case for more money, she said,

“So-and-so gets $100.”

“REALLY?!?”

“Yes.”

That’s a lot of stuffy journals. I stood my ground,

“You can have $30 or $40. Or add your own money.”

Guess what amount she went with.

Meanwhile RB came home very pleased with herself. The good news is that she stretched the $30 a lot further than I’ve seen BB do. She got five books! Only problem is two of them are chapter books with no pictures and one is a board book with a total of ten words.

I’d still say this was a win if she were happy with them. She ran to the couch excited to “read” and yelled out in anger,

“THIS BOOK HAS NO PICTURES!!!”

Good grief! She rushed around, picked books because she liked their covers, and didn’t even bother to look inside.

If anyone needs a Bluey board book, let me know. It does have pictures and is a quick read.

NYC 6th birthday palooza with a side of 10th wedding anniversary – debriefed

Posted on October 29, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I need to backtrack. I got so excited about Belize that I didn’t debrief New York City.

We saw, we ate, we shopped, we touched an absurd amount of surfaces and we had a normal number of sibling squabbles, plus a bonus one at 2am.

At home the other day, BB and RB were ready to kill each other. I put my beach/swim bag down the middle of our dinner table to mitigate the “looks” that were being fired across the table.

BB sighs. I ask,

“What?”

“You’re probably going to say no.”

“Just ask me.”

“Can we have a sleepover tonight?”

“You can’t even sit at the same dinner table without a barrier between you and your sister and you want a sleepover?!”

“Yeah?”

“…Ok. If she wants one too.”

RB pipes up from the other side of the beach bag.

“I DO!”

What is happening? I feel like a crazy person.

My one rule about sleepovers is that no one can wake me up. In NYC that rule went out the window. At 2am RB tapped my shoulder. BB’s body parts were crossing the midline of their bed.

Aside from bed-territory issues, the weekend was a success and proof that expectations really make or break things.

Before we left, the weather prediction looked very bad: a nor’easter with high wind and torrential rain was looming. I was depressed thinking we’d be navigating the city in that.

I have never been more grateful to be exploring in a drizzle. Four people, four dolls, and one newly stuffed bunny, all stayed very happy and mostly dry.

RB is a reluctant walker. There were moments over the course of the weekend, mainly when she was on my or Captain’s back, when I wondered if I should’ve held on to a stroller.

Months in advance I bought tickets to the Statue of Liberty’s crown. It’s 215 steps to the pedestal and 162 steps to the crown. The staircase is a narrow, double-helix spiral.

I gave the whole thing a 50/50 whether we’d make it up any stairs.

We made it to the pedestal with enthusiasm to spare and up we went to the crown. No one asked me to carry them which would’ve been impossible. I’m still not sure how Captain fit at all.

After the Statue of Liberty, we found ourselves in the M&M store.

I should know better than to go into a candy store where it’s a help-yourself, weigh-it-later situation. We were all drawn to the colorful tubes of M&Ms.

RB held a bag underneath, opened the end of the blue M&Ms and out they poured. They couldn’t have come out any faster.

I took our three pounds of M&Ms and asked a sales person,

“We have more than we want, what should we do?”

Technically we had exactly how much RB wanted, but the hemorrhaging of money had to stop somewhere.

I was told we could dump out what we didn’t want. So I did and then RB added more in a variety of colors. We just about recreated a pre-made bag of M&Ms.

We got the biggest bang for our buck at the Lego store. The kiddos spent half-an-hour personalizing their mini-figures. It is not a process that can be rushed. Lego people have a surprising number of leg options.

Then RB spent the next hour free building. It was Saturday night and the store was closing. RB was in the zone. I chatted with an employee who was deconstructing legos faster than RB was putting them together.

Unprompted she said,

“I’m glad it’s not Sunday.”

“Why?”

“Sundays we stay late and wash all the legos.”

Right. The amount of hands I saw pawing through bins of legos in one hour makes a week’s worth of hands mind-boggling.

And the fact that we’re touching legos almost overdue for a wash, is not something Captain needed to know.

The whole trip was designed around a visit to the American Girl Place. We went on RB’s 6th birthday. There was a hair appointment for her and her doll, a nail appointment for her and her doll and lunch for four people and four dolls.

It was ridiculous and amazing. RB had been insisting she needed a boy doll for months, so Captain got the look-a-like doll he’s always dreamed of.

After a doll-filled day, we took as many dolls and bunnies as fit in our new backpacks, had chocolate cake for dinner and ended the marathon weekend on Broadway at Aladdin.

I thought for sure RB would be a mess walking back to the hotel at 9pm, but she danced and sang in the drizzle the whole way back.

For RB’s birthday night (the night after our anniversary), she slept in my bed and Captain slept with BB, our tenth wedding anniversary a distant memory. And technically it was celebrated months ago in the Galápagos when we were not in the same hotel room as our children.

Did someone say Belize?!?

Posted on October 17, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I don’t know what’s happening. I just bought a plane ticket and I’m leaving for Belize in two weeks.

Yesterday the owner of my agency said a colleague could no longer take the trip, so the spot was open if anyone wanted it.

I watched as one advisor after another said they wished they could go, but couldn’t.

I looked at my calendar. Nothing there aside from a MILLION kids’ activities.

I reached out to our family childcare support. They were a go.

Now I needed to run it by Captain when he got home from work. I wrote on our white board on the fridge: “???BELIZE???” With that many question marks. As if I’d forget to talk about it.

I was on the fence. I just got home from Italy and I’m headed to the Swiss/Austrian Alps the beginning of December. I don’t want to burden my family too much.

Captain thought I should go.

That’s all I needed to hear!

Just when I thought my body was settling into winter-sweatsuit mode, we are back in a bikini, headed for the second largest barrier reef in the world and the best diving in the western hemisphere.

I will continue to shave my legs.

I am not a last minute type of person. I’m a planner. Go figure.

I have been shocked by how many clients book last minute trips. This is great for them and I’m very happy to do it.

My ideal time frame for planning trips for my own family is six months to over a year away. I had my eye on the Galápagos two years before we took the trip. And right now I’ve got my eye on Africa 2027.

I have never in my life booked a flight for myself two weeks before I leave.

Here I am. Ticketed. I just need to shave my legs and repack my freshly put away summer wardrobe.

I’m in excited disbelief that I’m leaving the country again so soon. I said to Captain,

“Who am I? I’m some new version of Jessica.”

“No! You’re the old Jessica!”

That’s right! I AM the old Jessica. Past Jessica’s passport was so full she had to send it away for more pages.

The main difference is that twenty-something-year-old Jessica did not have the word “luxury” associated with any part of her travels. Although she did as a child and she was luxury adjacent during her summer as a deckhand/stewardess on a yacht in the south of France.

Present, middle-aged Jessica has adapted well to the change.

I’m still, as Captain would say, rugged. I can carry my own luggage. But if someone wants to carry it for me, who am I to say no? And there’s nothing wrong with a chocolate on my pillow at night.

BB is not pleased that I’m peacing out again, but the promise of a Belizean stuffie is helping my case.

Are you thinking about somewhere warm? Maybe the Caribbean or maybe somewhere else nearby? Do you want adventure, culture, beach, jungle and amazing sea life?

Yes please!

I leave the day after Halloween. It’s daylight savings weekend. We gain an hour. My kids will be complete, post-Halloween trash and not my problem.

See you soon Belize!

If you need me, I can plan your trip from here!

Sardinia, Sardegna, what a wonderful two weeks!

Posted on October 9, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I’m home! Captain said it felt like I’d been gone a month.

It took me a full week to readjust.

I mostly readjusted the minute I made physical contact with my children, but it took me this long to sit down and write a blog post.

Two-hour pasta lunches with a bottomless glass of wine followed by three-hour dinners with a bottomless glass of wine is really not a sustainable lifestyle. But it was an amazing way to spend a couple weeks!

Sardinia is the second largest island in the Mediterranean just south of Corsica and west of Italy. It has a gorgeous coastline, stunning mountains, long lifespans and an ancient heritage of amazing food unique from mainland Italy.

I explored Sardinia with travel designers from Italy, Venezuela, Mexico, Argentina, Portugal, Germany, Ukraine, Russia and one from twenty minutes up the road from me.

Those countries, all in the same group, may make you pause. I did. They’re all amazing people and I was lucky to spend time with them.

I also feel lucky that I was well received. Americans are not the most beloved right now.

And I thought for sure I’d be the only Jew of the group “working” on Rosh Hashanah. I was nowhere near my temple, but I did join the virtual children’s service for a minute between meetings.

Lo and behold I was lucky enough to find out that my new friend from Venezuela is Jewish! A Jewish Venezuelan is not a combo I was expecting.

I was distracted by my news feed and our politics that lack basic human decency. It feels like everything is spiraling downwards. I kept trying to refocus: my bowl of pasta, my delicious espresso, the sexiest cooking class I’ve ever taken.

I mean that. I was looking decidedly not sexy, but our teacher, she was another story. It’s called pasta therapy:

At home I cook occasionally because we need to eat and because if I try to serve one more peanut butter and jelly sandwich there may be a mutiny.

But for me, being sexy and cooking never happen simultaneously.

As I fumbled through making fancy pasta shapes, I was definitely in the moment, so it may deserve its therapeutic claims.

Last year I traveled to Croatia for work, carry-on only. BIG MISTAKE. I left home without an ounce of room in my suitcase. I received so much free swag and people at home were waiting for things and I had NO ROOM.

I vowed not to make that mistake again. For Sardinia I checked a small bag and also had a small carry-on. Both were half empty in anticipation of lots of free goodies.

Clothing-wise I still only packed as much as I would’ve if I’d been traveling carry-on only. For two weeks I planned to rewear everything twice if not three times. As I am always happy to do.

If I can enjoy a month-and-a-half overland safari alternating between two shirts, then the amount of clothing I took for Sardinia was really overkill.

But it quickly felt inadequate. My previous travel style collided with my current travel style.

Not only were my new friends wearing new outfits everyday, they had a nice outfit for daytime touring (which I would’ve called nice enough for dinner) and then an even nicer outfit for our lovely dinners.

I was taking my daytime outfit, adding a sweater and earrings and calling it my new dinner outfit. I kept wishing I had taken a medium-sized suitcase.

After a phone call home bemoaning all my decisions, I headed to dinner wearing my favorite dress for the third time. One of the women exclaimed,

“I love your dress! Is it new?”

No! Not only is it four years old, but I’ve already worn it for two other dinners this week! Proof that no one is paying as much attention as you think they are and maybe my suitcase choice was ok after all.

I left home with an idea that I’d like to buy a new dress if at all possible. As the week went on, it started to seem like it might not be possible.

The days were relaxing in the sense that I was walking around beautiful Sardinia, eating amazing food and talking to wonderful people, but there was very little free time with which to shop.

Near the end of the first week, we checked into what would be my favorite resort of the trip. As we walked into the lobby, in the store window, there was a beachy, floor-length, pink and white dress that was calling to me.

I said “I’ll be back if I can!”

I got a free minute and I dashed into the store. I peered around. Nothing resembled that dress. I peered back out at the window and asked the shopkeeper,

“Is that dress for this store?”

“Yes! It’s our last one and it’s your size.”

How does she know my size? I give her a skeptical look. She adds,

“It’s a medium.”

Ooooh she’s good.

Next thing I know, the mannequin’s arms are on the ground and the dress is in my hands. As I began the checkout process the kind woman asks me,

“Do you have Global Blue?”

“What?” I have no idea what she’s talking about.

“For your tax refund?”

“Tax refund?”

She looks perplexed and I feel like an idiot.

So now I know that it’s possible to get a tax refund on purchases over a certain amount. In Italy it’s over €70. Every country has a different amount.

The shopkeeper is so incredulous she asks me,

“How come you’ve never used Global Blue before?”

“I guess I haven’t done that much shopping.”

The truth is I haven’t done much shopping at the price point required to receive refunds.

The woman shakes her head and admonishes me,

“Italy is very good for shopping.”

“Yes, I see that.”

My suitcase fit all my wonderful freebies: wine, liqueur, jewelry, reindeer-skin luggage tags, candles, chocolates, bags and I bought two stuffed flamingos for my children. Sardinia is known for its flamingos. I did not know this.

My exploration of Sardinia was followed by an intense few days of one-on-one meetings with luxury travel suppliers from all over the world. It was simultaneously exhausting and energizing. There are endless, amazing adventures to add to your list!

Now I’m home, I caught my breath, I emptied my small suitcase and I am packing it back up.

We’re off to NYC for RB’s 6th birthday!

RB’s interpretation of ready for New York City. This is a very large suitcase relative to her doll’s size, so it is safe to say her doll overpacked.

T-minus three days until I ditch my family for TWO weeks

Posted on September 11, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

The owner of my agency recommends at least one travel conference a year. I was accepted to one in Sardinia.

Before and after the conference, there are familiarization trips. I was accepted to one of those, too! Once I’m there, I might as well scope out the whole island.

I was worried that being gone for two weeks would be too long. Captain offered,

“How could you not do it?”

That’s right! How could I not? And without a second thought I confirmed everything.

Now that I see the calendar for the next two weeks, please wish my family luck.

Between my two children there are: 6 swim practices, 2 swim lessons, 2 artistic swim classes, 6 soccer practices, 4 Hebrew school classes, 2 drama kids classes, 2 curriculum nights, one day of school pictures, and a side of Rosh Hashanah.

Putting that in all in one sentence may have been a mistake. We sound like crazy people.

I swear it feels more manageable on a day-to-day basis. Although I’ve only been doing it for one week, and now it’s someone else’s problem.

Monday night I was headed into Boston for work, and Captain, BB, and RB were headed to RB’s soccer practice. I said,

“Don’t forget you need a soccer ball and two chairs.”

They left with three chairs and no soccer ball.

So that’s how I anticipate the next couple weeks may go.

The other morning I was sitting on the couch with my coffee, a hotel website open in front of me. RB snuggled up, saw my computer, and said,

“Again?!? I thought you retired.”

Just getting started.

After this Sardinia trip, I was accepted for a ski trip in Austria and Switzerland. Which brings me back to our recent visit to the ski store.

Thirteen years ago I met Captain skiing. We skied as much as possible. I invested in new ski boots. They were comfortable, performed well, and were a pretty white-turquoise color.

Ten years ago I got pregnant with BB. My feet grew. I went from a size 10 to a size 11. My feet never went back.

I needed all new shoes. Not the worst thing in the world, but I was loathe to spend $500 on a new pair of ski boots. Especially when at this point, with a new baby, I was lucky if I were skiing four days a season.

Each year when I squeezed my feet into my too-small boots, Captain would ask,

“Are you going to get a new pair?”

“Maybe, but doesn’t seem worth it.”

Then another pregnancy, so no skiing, then COVID, so more no skiing. Then back to skiing and good grief the boots are still SO SMALL. Maybe it’s time for new boots?

Nope. Last year we decided to save all of our money for the Galápagos and did not go skiing.

Skipping a year made me realize how much I miss skiing! Now here comes the 25/26 season, and we already have 14 ski days on the books. It is time for new boots.

At the end of August I booked two separate appointments: a daytime rental appointment for the kiddos and an evening, boot fitting for myself. I imagined returning to the store childless to try on boots in peace.

We got the kids sorted out. The ski-store guy asked me,

“You’re looking for new boots, too, right?”

“Yes, but I was thinking I’d come back later without them.” I waved my hand in the general direction of my children clomping around the store. The guy said,

“They seem fine. Do you want to try some on?”

“If you say so.”

My children, still in their ski boots, proceeded to stomp laps, then it was quiet, and all I could see was BB’s head popping up in the middle of one of those spinning, clothes racks.

If this is the sales guy’s idea of “they’re fine,” then so be it.

He measured my foot, and looked at the sizing on my old boot. He was shocked,

“They’re so small for you! How could you ski in these?!”

“I don’t know.”

As my toes luxuriated in the spaciousness of the new boots, I looked at my color options: black, gray, and maroon. I asked,

“Are there other color options?”

“I’m afraid not. You’re into unisex sizing now.”

Apparently white-turquoise is not a unisex color.

I settled for comfort and performance in a unisex black.

As I flexed into my new boots, the sales guy noticed my quads and said,

“What do you do to work out?”

“I walk.”

“You’re in this shape from just walking?”

At which point both kids pipe up from under the snowpants rack,

“She walks with a weighted vest!”

I do now.

I walk with a weighted vest, wear unisex ski boots, and explore Sardinia for two weeks without my family.

I’m some new version of the old me.

Except I’m going to check a bag, which is anathema to my being.

After a two-week sabbatical, the least I can do for my family is make sure my suitcase has enough room to bring home all the free, travel tchotchkes I accumulate at the conference.

They can thank me later.

Traveling carry-on only in Mali. Apparently not a unisex backpack

T-minus two days til school! Let the magic begin

Posted on August 31, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

Final days of summer vacation are upon us.

I’m ready.

RB is ready.

BB is ready.

Captain is ready.

Could we have handled more beach?

Always.

Could I have handled more sibling fighting without having a psychotic break? We’ll never know.

BB is very excited for 4th grade and RB is OVER THE MOON to start kindergarten.

My BABY is starting kindergarten! Cue wailing, sobbing me for one second until my children resume destroying each other and I forget how to feel nostalgic.

RB is almost 6, so really I lucked out with an extra year with her. She is still very munchable.

Socially she’s beyond ready to go. Writing her name is another story. BB is bound and determined to “prepare” her.

From the backseat of the car I hear BB say,

“What is five times two?”

GOOD GRIEF! The kid can barely tell the difference between a letter and a number. Never mind write her name and now we’re working on multiplication?

They’re happy and I’m loathe to get involved if they’re happy, but they can become unhappy very quickly, so it’s tempting to preempt it if possible. I pipe up,

“I think they work on basic addition and subtraction in kindergarten.”

BB groans,

“Yes, but she knows this, we’ve worked on it before.”

I can’t decide if RB having a 9-year-old teacher is helpful or not.

RB adds,

“I’m learning to read!”

BB says,

“That’s right! What words have I taught you?”

“Potion, broomstick, magic and teacup!”

All the most useful kindergarten sight words.

Meanwhile I’m getting ready to leave for Italy in a couple weeks, getting our ski equipment sorted out and also trying to nail down our long weekend in NYC for RB’s 6th birthday.

I ask RB,

“What would you like for your birthday dinner in NYC?”

“Cereal!!!”

“Cereal?”

“Or mac n cheese from Añejo or french fries.”

Añejo is a fabulous Mexican restaurant, with a delicious homemade queso mac n cheese, ON CAPE COD.

I google “best french fries in NYC.”

One result is described as:

“Classic fries done right—potato-forward and refined.”

Potato-forward is what I’m looking for! Refined is questionable. One dinner option reserved.

I will save the ski equipment journey for another post and hopefully I’ll talk to you again before I leave for Sardinia.

As I snuggled RB on the couch the other morning before soccer, I squished her very squishable legs and asked,

“Are these legs ready for soccer?”

“They’re ready to charge!”

“They’re ready to charge?!!”

“Like an angry hippo!”

I don’t think this will be my facial expression

Weighted vests. Need I say more?

Posted on August 14, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I’ve had my nose to the grindstone this past year and when I looked up everyone was wearing a weighted vest.

Or at least people my age.

My beach buddy uses one and she mentioned it last summer, but unlike this summer, there was no sign of them in my news feed, so I continued to go for my weightless walks.

A couple weeks ago I told her I was considering one. Two more beach buddies piped up about their vests.

Then I was driving back from Cuffy’s (can never have too many things that say Cape Cod), and there was a woman walking with what I can now identify immediately as a weighted vest.

Everybody’s been wearing them and I had no idea. Now it was just a matter of which vest.

As I perused the reviews of different vests, one said,

“If you’re middle-aged and you don’t have one, what are you even doing?”

What have I been doing?

I’ve been walking unweighted.

Some people said the vest is ridiculous and just put on a backpack.

It brought me back 8.5 years to when we lived in Boston and the only way BB breastfed or slept was in a moving sling attached to my body.

I went for so many weighted walks.

I’m not sure how much money someone would have to pay me to do that again, but the feeling of the weighted vest high up on the top of my body as opposed to a backpack or a baby is worth the purchase.

I’m addicted to walking. I’m going to walk no matter what. I don’t have unlimited time for walking. So adding the weight and getting some thigh burn feels ideal.

Don’t even talk to me about running. Not my thing. Not happening. Last time I ran was when we were on the beach and RB said,

“I need to go potty, the poop is coming out.”

Even then I slowed to a trot.

My thighs need to be ready for skiing in the Alps by the first week of December. I do not intend to be the last travel advisor down the mountain.

In the meantime, I’ll be wandering around suburbia 16 pounds heavier. Chest hair optional.

When I put in weighted vests, these popped up. Good to know there are hairy options.

This weighted vest kept gaining weight and was a little fussy.

Forgive the million photos of BB in the sling. There are SO MANY. She lived in there for the better part of a year.

Weighted baby sling arrives in suburbia, circa 2017. I did not consider myself middle-aged yet.

This is 43! My passport is renewed. I’m ready

Posted on July 24, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

What a birthday month!

I do not know how to have the kids home and be on vacation and be working and be sailing and be beaching and be blogging.

I got it all done except for the blogging. So here I am. I didn’t forget about you. I never would/could. Someone will have to claw the keyboard out of my old, withered hands.

It will be like taking away my car keys. Until then I’m clinging to my early forties.

A 38-year-old beach friend was surprised to learn I was turning 43. She looked me up and down and said,

“So there’s hope for me!”

Which I have 100% taken as a compliment, but also, how much aging does she expect to incur in five years?

BB turned nine! It’s her last year in single digits. She is quickly moving into her tween years. She’s still wearing a Rufflebutt swimsuit, but I was told this is the last year for that.

I’m still wearing a string bikini, someone can tell me when it’s my last year for that. Maybe my 5-year younger beach buddy.

As I put RB to bed she asked her usual litany of random unanswerable questions, like:

“Why is that calendar with the chickens still here?”

“I don’t know. This is my brother’s room.”

“Didn’t you play in here?”

“Yes, but mainly in my room with my barbies and American Girl doll.”

RB turns to me in shock,

“They had American Doll Girls in the OLD DAYS?”

The old days? Yup. They did.

RB shakes her head. She seems to have forgotten all about the perplexing chickens.

Captain is on the verge of turning 51, so he’s really from the old days.

He just bought a new pair of shoes and I said,

“Those look spiffy!”

“SPIFFY?!?”

“What’s wrong with spiffy?”

“Sounds like a compliment for a guy in his sixties.”

Oh. Hmmm.

He took his brand-new, white shoes and we went sailing for a week. The sibling fighting may have aged us more than a week, but other than that it was amazing.

One of their favorite fights to have is,

“She’s LOOKING AT ME!”

If they have this fight on a huge, wide-open beach, you can imagine how many looks there were on a contained sailboat.

Most looks were mitigated with a bag of potato chips.

This is the wisdom I’ve gained in old age, don’t underestimate the power of a snack.

I’ve also learned that I can beach and work. Sail and work. Parent and work is trickier. And apparently I cannot blog and do any other tasks.

I’ll talk to you in August, before or after Captain gets one year closer to being genuinely spiffy.

P.S. BB is now proofreading my posts… so that’s how old we really are.

I think the dolls are making him look younger, but it’s hard to say.

Bye preschool!!! Can I still pop by for drop off and pick up just to chat with my favorite people?

Posted on June 26, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

Everyday last week I was crying or on the verge of crying. My baby graduated from pre-k. We said goodbye to our beloved preschool where I’ve been taking both of our babies for six years.

All I have to do is look at a piece of art work and tears come to my eyes. And there is so much art work.

Although there’s one piece of art work that does NOT bring tears to my eyes:

Hard to say what Captain has done to edge me out for this win, but if it’s lifting up legos, I’d like to point out I’m also very capable of that. I have lifted many a lego.

The cut off for kindergarten is September 1st. RB is a fall birthday so she’s well on her way to 6. She would’ve gotten on the bus a year ago if someone had let her.

Last year the alphabet and her name were still very mysterious, so it was nice to make some progress there.

RB is ready. I’m ready. IT’S JUST SO NOSTALGIC!

After six years at this wonderful school, I feel a little beside myself. My baby is not a baby and I said goodbye to some of our favorite people.

When RB started, she was two and still in pull-ups. Now she thinks she’s ready for high school.

Meanwhile BB just finished her best year yet and got teary when she needed to say goodbye to her amazing teacher. Yes, I may have gotten a little teary too. It was A WEEK.

I don’t remember having any tears on the last day of school when I was 8. I just remember pure peace-out energy. So that’s a testament to her 3rd grade teacher!

The sweet, emotional tears are over and we’ve moved onto the banshee cries of the wronged sibling.

I’m not sure what this summer will bring. We’re functioning on a week to week basis. We’ve decamped for the Cape, but have already been back home twice. I haven’t booked any summer camps, but that doesn’t mean I won’t. We’re going sailing, but only if my kids can agree to not tear each other apart.

BB says,

“I need my alone time.”

RB follows her around for the next hour.

They both whine and complain.

I say,

“BEDTIME!”

BB says,

“Can we have a sleepover?”

“Really? You just spent the last hour trying to get away from your sister.”

“I know. I still want a sleepover with her.”

Three hours later everyone is asleep.

I’ve instituted a No-Tattling Policy. It really seems to have helped. But ask me again in August.

And as teary as I am about my babies growing up, it’ll be a beautiful thing to put both kiddos on the 8am bus in September.

Until then, Happy Summer!!!

What is going on with that leg? Is that a high-school leg?

That’s my beach bag on the kitchen table. This is how I solved the never-ending conundrum of “SHE’S LOOKING AT ME!!!”

Bye magical, outdoor classroom at preschool 🥹😭😭

Brake pads, rotors and the itsy bitzee that went for a ride

Posted on June 6, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I rolled up to a family birthday party with the girls. It was Captain’s side of the family, but there was no Captain.

So where was he?

“He’s replacing the brake pads and rotors on my car.”

“He took it somewhere to get it done?”

“Nope, he’s doing it himself.”

Blank stares.

He’s in his happy place, under a car and I’m in mine, at a party, oblivious to how many juice boxes are being guzzled.

The drive to the party was uneventful. BB played with a new birthday present: a bitzee. And RB took a nap.

You may or may not be familiar with the bitzee mania. It is a small digital pet. The photo doesn’t really do it justice. It’s interactive. It moves, lights up and makes sounds. It’s digitally adorable and highly addictive, at least for the little people in my family.

On the drive home BB whipped out her bitzee. RB begged for a turn. Pleaded for a turn. Whined. Yelled. Grabbed. Tantrumed. Cried the most-heartbroken tears one can cry.

BB clung to her Precious.

She was worried RB would damage it and that I would not want to buy her another one.

Both valid concerns.

As we sat in stop and go traffic on 95 and World War III raged in my backseat, I made the game-time decision that BB did not have to share it, but she did have to put it away so she wasn’t taunting RB with it.

RB couldn’t stop crying. Tears rolled silently down her cheeks for the remainder of the ride.

Then I had what I thought was a brilliant idea. I said,

“RB, if you want to spend your own money you can buy one for yourself.”

“I can buy my own itsy bitzee?!”

“If you have $25.”

The minute we pulled up to the house she made a mad dash for her wallet.

Captain was ready to show off his hard work. He told me,

“The back tires are done!”

“New rotors too?”

I have no idea what I’m talking about. I learned how to spell rotors today.

“Yup, performance ones. You can see them.”

“I can?”

Captain points out my new, shiny rotors.

“Performance?”

“Yes! See those lines and grooves there?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what makes them performance”

Aha. I didn’t know I needed performance rotors.

I head inside. RB is trying to count her money. Ones, fives, tens, twenties are spread across her bed. They’re all being counted as one each. I count out $25. She bursts into tears,

“You’re going to take all of my tooth fairy money?”

“I don’t have to take any of it, only if you want to buy a bitzee.”

RB sobs and says,

“I do want to buy an itsy bitzee.”

And she did. She fell in love.

I tried to keep track of it and put it away when I didn’t want her to be using it. Turns out I failed.

I dropped her off at school and a teacher remarked,

“That’s a cool toy she brought in yesterday.”

“What did she bring in?”

RB is already hanging her head and refusing to make eye contact.

“That little blue box you open up.”

“I had no idea she brought that in! She wasn’t allowed to!”

RB’s bitzee is hidden away until further notice. I recount all of this to Captain.

Our child has always done whatever the heck she wants and couldn’t care less about anyone’s “rules.” Except apparently at school, where she’s mysteriously well-behaved.

At a playdate the other day, I overheard her tell her friend,

“This is my sister’s. Don’t tell her we’re using it. She doesn’t let me.”

If someday she’s climbing out of her bedroom window and sneaking off, I will not be surprised.

I will be jumping in my performance Toyota Highlander, finding my wild child and stopping on a dime, because I think that’s what my new fancy rotors are for?

And if anyone has an answer to the sibling fighting, please send help.

Here’s to my new favorite town

Posted on May 21, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I don’t have to move after all!

I didn’t know that I would cry tears of joy over a town election, but I did.

National politics may still be deplorable, but short of leaving the country, we’re not going anywhere.

We’re so committed to staying that we bought a new sactional for my home office. I do not think it’s deductible.

For Mother’s Day I received this note from five-year-old RB:

I’ll address this in chronological order:

There are people in my family with blue eyes; I am not one of them.

I do not love to eat chicken. My family loves to eat chicken, so here we are.

One of my favorite drinks may be wine… just wondering why the daily coffee didn’t make the cut.

A box of instant mac ‘n cheese is one of my specialties.

I do dearly love to exercise.

I’m not sure what games she’s referring to, but piggy-back ride up to bed is a favorite of mine.

Snuggles are the best.

And snuggles on my new sactional are great too.

I don’t know who has put together a Lovesac sactional before, BUT it made me question all of my life choices.

I’m surprised there was no offer of white-glove service. Not that we would have paid extra for that. I know a guy. But still.

I ended up carrying in all fifteen boxes by myself, including six that weighed fifty-three pounds.

The boxes arrived at 1pm when Captain was at the office and I had dreams of having my coffee (2nd favorite drink) on my new sactional the next morning.

After blood, sweat, so much sweat, no tears, we hit 11:30pm and Captain pondered the pillows. He said,

“I’m wondering if that pillow should be switched with this one.”

I could not have finished the couch in nine hours without Captain, but I also couldn’t find any level of caring about the pillows.

They’re lucky to be stuffed into their cases and they may now go wherever they want.

“I have to go to bed.”

We are less than a week into our 60-day trial period with free returns, but it’s safe to say, she’s not going anywhere.

In part because she’s very comfortable, but also because I CAN’T IMAGINE BOXING THIS WHOLE THING UP.

As I struggled for hours to stuff cushions into washable covers. I said multiple times,

“I’m never washing this couch.”

Lies. All lies. Three days into the new couch, RB vomited all over it. Into the wash it went.

It came out perfect and putting one cushion back into its case is really not bad compared to upholstering twenty-seven different parts of the couch.

Come on over, have a seat, have a glass of wine, some chicken and mac ‘n cheese and some snuggles. I’m here.

On town election night I was at the Boston Ballet with a dear friend and the bathroom stall had this sign on the door. I don’t remember this from before, but maybe that’s because I’m always in a mad rush. It’s definitely worth holding onto your hopes and dreams. Overrides do happen.

Arts & crafts and the state of the world, but mainly arts & crafts. Also VOTE YES for the Override

Posted on May 1, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

What is to become of us? Deporting people without due process? Deporting US citizen children with cancer? The cruelty is incomprehensible.

I keep reorienting myself with my tiny microcosm of family life, which for the most part is a respite from our country’s chaos, until the pre-school art project homework arrives…

Is there no rest for the weary?

I can’t emphasize it enough, I do not like arts and crafts.

An email came from RB’s pre-k: Everyone needs to make a family shoebox diorama. A part of my soul began to wither.

What 5-year-old can accomplish this independently? RB is one of the oldest kids at her school, so tell me, what are the 2-3 year-olds doing?

Our hefty tuition bill does not shield us from arts and crafts outside of school hours.

I give Captain my take,

“Not it.”

When I melted into goo that first day I met Captain, I had no way of knowing that he’s an amazing artist with the willingness, patience and ability to craft a preschool, shoebox diorama well into the wee morning hours. But he is!

At 11pm I said goodnight to him, as he sat with the hot glue gun hovering over our stick figure family and a fluffy squirrel. He asked,

“How much of this should RB be doing?”

“She picked this scene right?”

“Yeah.”

She’s done enough.

SEND IT IN.

It’s in. We’re moving on. Especially because I know there’s a third grade art project headed our way, i.e. Captain’s way.

Just the fact that he owns a glue gun, owned one before I met him, is all the information we need to know about who’s in charge of the infamous third grade hat project.

Assuming I don’t move from this town in the next month.

Just kidding, kind of. People get it together, vote yes for the override. For all of the three people from my town reading this.

Please.

Our backyard. Artistic license was taken with the scale. We don’t really have 3 foot tall squirrels.

Back home with my babies… for now

Posted on April 17, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

Croatia! It was not on my radar, but it should’ve been.

It’s a gorgeous country: beautiful mountains, medieval cities and the clearest turquoise water. Amazing food, wine, hotels and people. Perfect for relaxing and adventure!

And considering adventure is my speciality, you can trust me on this.

Here I am, alive, post white-water rafting.

The rafting trip I did is recommended for kids as young as eight. So while it was super fun and exciting, it was not a life-threatening adrenaline rush.

For this pre-season rafting trip it was more: I’d rather not capsize, not because I might die, but because, despite my wetsuit, I will be chilly.

RB, my youngest, may or may not have missed me. BB, my eight-year old said that a week without me was:

“Really fun and slightly depressing.”

For me the week was a dream come true with pangs of missing my family.

After years of solo travel, I thought wandering through the airport alone would be a non-event. Instead I felt oddly untethered.

I kept peering around as if maybe I’d forgotten a child somewhere.

There was no one to feed, clothe, attend to but myself. No butts to wipe aside from my own.

And even when I’m home, I know the bum-wiping days are numbered. Maybe one day I’ll look back in nostalgia at impatient RB, in downward dog, waddling with her naked butt in the air into the kitchen. All because I didn’t not go running to the bathroom the minute she hollered.

It was a luxurious week of 4 and 5-star hotel rooms all to myself. That combined with hiking, biking, rafting, boating, exploring, relaxing and eating, was a combination I highly recommend.

This is the hard work I’m doing.

So while Croatia would be a wonderful family trip, it would also make for a fabulous friend/mom trip, and leave the bum wiping behind.

Next work trip is in September to Sardinia. I’m sure I’ll be ready for another kid-free week by then.

Working hard

Danger!

Alexa? I know you’re listening. Goodbye

Posted on March 25, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

It started the way some three-way relationships must: Captain felt strongly in favor and I didn’t feel AS strongly NOT in favor.

Four years ago I wracked my brain for a good Hanukkah/Christmas gift for Captain. He’s into “smart” home features: lights, cameras, air quality controls. Things that all have a mind of their own.

He’d been wanting an Alexa. Kept talking about it. I kept saying,

“NO.”

Why would I voluntarily put something in the heart of our home that was listening to everything?

But then I reasoned, theoretically my phone can already do that. So I surprised Captain with an Amazon Echo.

As it turns out, it was really a gift to our small children who could now play fart sounds on request. Especially after they purchased the fart extension pack.

I’m still not sure I’ve turned off voice purchasing. Surprise surprise, the security settings are difficult to navigate. And some settings are on track to disappear altogether.

This email came over a week ago:

“We are reaching out to let you know that the Alexa feature ‘Do Not Send Voice Recordings’ that you enabled on your supported Echo device(s) will no longer be available beginning March 28th, 2025.”

Bozos wants our voice recordings and will take them.

As with most of the bad news these days, it doesn’t surprise me and I let it go. I’m trying to maintain some level of a peaceful life without being in a constant rage about current events.

The idea of saying goodbye to Alexa crosses my mind, but not only is she in our living room, she’s in our library and our bedroom too. Unless I’m willing to throttle Captain’s dreams for a “smart” home, I figure she’s here to stay.

As we’re snuggled in bed he asks,

“Did you see the email about Alexa?”

“YES. What are we going to do?”

“I unplugged the library and bedroom one.”

“OH! GOOD!!!”

And now all that’s left is to unplug the one in the living room… The one who so willingly plays Taylor Swift ALL DAY LONG.

Out of the blue, RB turned to me and in a tone of voice that melted my heart, she sighed,

“Mommy? I love you.”

“I love you too my sweet baby!”

The warm, fuzzy feeling didn’t last long.

RB returned to the living room and resumed yelling at Alexa to play Taylor Swift. When RB finally managed to get the song she wanted, she said in the same adoring voice she had just used with me,

“Alexa? I love you.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

The super special feeling RB’s ‘I love you’ gave me a minute ago fizzled out.

Here I am, doing all the things, but I would be just as loved if I sat on a shelf, played Taylor Swift and farted.

So we can discuss the pros and cons of a smart speaker until it’s tired of listening to us, but the younger half of my household is still in love.

We’re waiting for the new gen Apple homepod. Because we might as well spread our voice recordings around to all the billionaires? I have no idea what the answer is.

Yes we could go back to turning on the lights ourselves and making our own fart noises. Sounds archaic.

Smart cameras keep your eyes open, April 1st is almost upon us.

Luxury Adventure, who wants in?

Posted on March 13, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

And so we’re home. For now. I leave for Croatia in three weeks. By myself. For work.

I need to go: hiking, biking, kayaking, white-water rafting, oyster sampling, private yacht chartering, horseback riding, so that I’ll be able to advise you on the best Croatian trip possible.

I’m leaving my babies behind. These are the sacrifices I must make.

It is bittersweet. I would love to do this adventure with my whole family. Someday we can. BUT in the meantime, I’ll bring them back some candy.

RB loves candy. She’s been counting her future Easter eggs ever since her Halloween candy ran out months ago.

BB will not be so easily won over, but there must be a Croatian stuffy to be had.

As for Captain, my gift to him will be my return. He’s concerned I’m not going to survive white-water rafting. He insisted on travel insurance so there will be funds for the repatriation of my body.

The fact that I’ve gone white-water rafting before and in higher-class rapids, does not seem to reassure him.

I also went white-water boogie boarding and again, here I am.

I’m a luxury travel advisor, but when encouraged to pick a specialization, I created: “Luxury Adventure Specialist.”

Captain agreed that that was a good fit for me.

I’m not sure what it means, but it sure sounds like someone who stays in 5-star hotels and goes white-water rafting.

That can be you too. Or luxury hotels and yoga. Or luxury hotels and a safari. The adventure options are really endless.

I just applied for a trip that’s 5-star hotels and skiing. Keeping my adventure options open.

That required a two-minute video application. I emerged from my room after an hour of filming myself.

Feeling ridiculous and self-conscious I checked in with Captain,

“I finished my video application.”

“Oh you did?”

“You didn’t hear me?!”

“No! I thought you were in a meeting.”

A meeting with myself where I say the same thing over and over again, hoping somehow that the millionth try will be acceptable to whatever nebulous standard I’m holding myself to.

It is done and sent off. With any luck I’ll add Austria to my list of upcoming adventures, after Sardinia this September.

Good times with Jess and sometimes her family, but not always.

New Zealand: I’m middle left, very alive

Penguins, sea lions, marine iguanas, rays, sea turtles, tortoises, blue footed boobies and SHARKS! OH MY!

Posted on February 26, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

WHAT A TRIP! Several weeks ago, we left Boston for Quito, Ecuador. Our three hour layover in Miami ended up being a run from one end of the airport to the other to catch our next flight.

The kids were supposed to hang back with Captain as he hauled along our carryons and I was running ahead to catch the plane.

I’m not sure what I was planning to do when I caught the plane all by myself. Maybe I was headed to the Galapagos without my family? I don’t know. But I didn’t have to worry about it, because RB was right on my heels.

I told her,

“I’m going to run, you stay with Dad.”

“I can run too!”

And it’s true. She can run. I sighed. I’d probably spend more time arguing than just running. So I ran. She ran and BB, not to be left behind, ran too.

At some point BB started to get farther and farther behind. Then RB got a cramp and whined,

“Can you carry me?”

So we walked and we made it. Despite everyone wanting to stop at the Lego Store.

We spent two days in Quito, 10,000 feet above sea level and we reached 12,000 feet above sea level at the top of the Pichincha volcano. I may never know how much higher we’d have to go for RB to stop running off. She was the only one NOT out of breath.

She ran everywhere and was determined to be the leader. I was much more worried about breathing than keeping track of her.

She’s still with us.

We flew from Quito to Isla San Cristóbal in the Galápagos. See flight path map below to answer any questions about where the heck we were.

My kids may or may not have grasped it. At some point mid-trip they were surprised to learn we were swimming in the Pacific ocean.

I’m not sure how long I’d have to stay in the Galápagos to get used to sea lions being standard members of society. As in,

“Excuse me sea lion, thanks for letting me share your infrastructure.”

And after seeing the massive amount of pee that came out of one sea lion on a public street bench, I was hard pressed to sit down anywhere without overthinking it.

You don’t want to know how many sea lion photos I took. I will tell you I took a total of 2,600 photos and videos over the course of our two week trip. DON’T WORRY, I’ve culled it down to my most favorite 1,020.

Yes there were sharks. Yes we swam with them. Captain’s anxiety was momentarily mitigated when he was told that only baby sharks are in the warm, shallow water. Meanwhile at a shallow overlook RB shouted,

“That’s a big one!”

I missed it, but Captain was sure to tell me,

“It was at least five feet long. It was NOT a baby.”

Halfway through the trip I realized we weren’t going to need all 80 packages of Ritz cheese crackers I had packed. RB branched out. She ate: pineapple, assorted cookies, juice, spoonfuls of jam at breakfast and she liked fish! Especially the one featured below.

It was a giant, delicious, fried fish.

Now RB keeps asking me to make it for her. As in,

“Are you going to make me my favorite fish?”

TBD

For whatever reason, when I ordered octopus, no one even wanted to try it. So I didn’t have to share that.

We hiked, snorkeled, swam, ate, beached, boated, kayaked, relaxed, shopped AND slept. Some. I woke my family up early so many times, that by the end of the trip RB took herself to bed at 6pm and said,

“I need to go to sleep because you’re going to be waking me up to go on a boat.”

Yes. Yes I am.

After Isla San Cristóbal we took the public ferry to Isla Santa Cruz. It is recommended to take sea sickness medication. I popped one pill first thing in the morning because for the whole trip up until this point, one pill per day made me feel fine.

It should be noted that the Dramamine fine print says take one OR TWO tablets per day. This public ferry ride was a two tablet day. I will NOT make that mistake again.

The good news is BB took one pill and felt great the whole time. When we arrived, she climbed off of my lap, I threw out my vomit bag and she let out a relaxed sigh,

“Ah, that was a nice power nap.”

We journeyed into the highlands to see the mythical giant tortoises. We lucked out and saw two mating. SLOWLY. Thrust. Rest. Thrust. Rest. Rest. Turns out it takes about 1.5 hours.

If you’re going to live to 200, what’s the rush?

Plus they spend no time taking care of their progeny. They lay their eggs and godspeed to those tiny, baby tortoises.

Meanwhile the sea lions are nursing their young until they’re three years old. They reach maturity at 4-5 years so a 3-year-old sea lion is just about full grown.

The pups are almost as big as their amazingly accommodating moms. It would be like if we nursed our 12-year-olds.

That or cart around several industrial size boxes of ritz crackers. I slowly downsized and as we said goodbye to each hotel, we left a trail of unopened cracker packages.

Plus I needed somewhere to put souvenirs. Everyone in my family wanted to know,

“What are you going to do with that: sea lion, tortoise, sea turtle, blue footed booby, you name it, I bought it?”

I’m going to do nothing with them except add them to my tchotchke collection. I will feel a warm glow of happiness every time I make eye contact with my Galápagos-engraved, stainless steel, sea lion, who may or may not still be nursing.

Meanwhile we came home with 3 stuffed tortoises, 1 stuffed penguin, 1 stuffed sea lion, 1 stuffed blue footed booby backpack and 1 stuffed blue footed booby key chain. All for my children.

And goodness knows what they’re going to do with all those.

The penguin and sea lion were last minute airport purchases. They NEEDED them so badly that they spent their own money to get them. This is what happens when flights are delayed.

At which point there was ZERO room left in our luggage so we added the stuffies to our carry-on juggling show.

On our second to last day we started our journey home from Isla Isabela, with all of our luggage. It went as follows and I’m NOT exaggerating:

Taxi pick-up truck
Water taxi
Ferry to Santa Cruz – 2 hours
Water taxi
3 block walk with luggage because there was a giant parade celebrating the Galápagos. I’m all for it.
Taxi pick-up trucks – 40 minutes (Put kids in separate pick-up truck from me, great decision.)
Ferry to Baltra – 10 minutes
Shuttle bus
Plane from Baltra to Quito – 3.5 hours
Van to hotel (slept and repeated the next day.) (Well just repeated the plane part to get from Quito to home via Miami.) (We had time for the Lego store.)

Back home BB was excited to add photo captions to share with her class. On a tortoise photo she said,

“How about I write that Galápagos means tortoise?”

“It does?”

BB looked at me like I was crazy. She nodded slowly,

“It does.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was paying attention.”

The internet confirmed: “The word “Galápagos” comes from the Spanish word galapago, which means “tortoise” or “saddle”. The islands are named after the giant tortoises that live there.”

Sounds like an amazing place.

It was a dream-come-true trip and I’m so happy I was able to do it with my babies. I’m also so happy they’re back in school. Home sweet home.

Island taxi! See your luxury travel architect for more carseat safety tips

Kayak trip and snorkel at Darwin Bay

Hammerhead sharks!

Galápagos here we come!

Posted on January 28, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

T-minus a few days until we leave for Ecuador and the Galápagos! I’ve only been daydreaming about going there for the last 30 years.

We’re going carry-on only aside from one checked bag with snorkel gear and life vests.

I am not taking RB’s music machine that has previously been carted around to Disney World, Alaska, Canada, and every corner of New England. It’s the size and weight of a small child. Plus no one but RB wants to hear a lullaby medley blasted at 3am.

The dreaded music machine in action at Disney

The dilemma has always been, what if she can’t sleep?

There are a couple things that make me feel ok about this: We’ve been practicing sleeping at home without it and she will be in a different hotel room than me.

You’re right, mainly the different hotel room part.

Meanwhile at home my bedroom is not known for its minimalism and right now, as it serves as the staging area for our trip, it looks like an out of control return center.

It is one big pile of chargers, battery packs, water purifier, water bottles, backpacks, snorkel masks, snacks, layers, go pro, go pro accessories, toiletries, hiking sandals, books, toys, hats, money, iPads and altitude sickness medication (which has very similar side affects as altitude sickness).

The kids only get their iPads for LONG trips or school work. So RB hasn’t had her hands on hers since this past summer.

RB might end up living on Ritz cheese crackers. She asked me,

“Are you taking my breakfast cereal and my dinner cereal along?”

There are different cereals for each meal. I give her the bad news,

“No. I’m taking cheese crackers and that’s it.”

No music machine and no cereal. I will let you know if I live to regret these choices.

First stop is a few days in Quito, Ecuador, 9,350 feet above sea level. Then eleven days island hopping for snorkeling, hiking, exploring, relaxing, sleeping without my children.

I don’t want to count my good times before they happen. I do feel desperate to travel the world with my kiddos, but no one needs to spend every second with them.

Although Captain might. He has more concerns than I realized. He asks,

“So there are lots of seals?”

“Yes! Babies too! They might swim with us!”

I’m glad he’s getting excited. Or maybe I have enough excitement for both of us. He asks,

“And there are sharks?”

“Yes! 32 species!”

“And RB is snorkeling?”

“Yes!”

“Doesn’t she look like a baby seal?”

Oh. I see where this is going. I agree, she looks delicious.

If RB looks like a baby seal, then Captain is just going to have to grow out his whiskers and play the part of protective papa seal if he wants. Because if we see a hammerhead shark, I’m not reaching for RB, I’m reaching for my go pro.

BB is all in. She has a reading log for school and last week it looked like this:

Tuesday: Galápagos Itinerary
Wednesday: Galápagos Itinerary
Thursday: Galápagos Itinerary

BB yells to me from the bathroom,

“This itinerary is long!”

It is! It’s going to be an action packed two weeks.

I was relieved to hear RB say,

“I’m so excited for the Galápagos too!”

“You are?!” I’m so excited and even more excited now that everyone else is excited. RB adds,

“I’m so excited to get my iPad on the airplane!”

“Oh.”

“I get my iPad on the plane right?”

Yes. Yes you do my little baby seal.

And it goes without saying, but I am going to say it. If you’re looking for a trip to the Galápagos, I’ll be ready to help you plan it. Might I recommend taking a small child along to distract the sharks?

I won’t be looking quite as sexy this time around. I was much younger here.

One last thing about that guy from Israel

Posted on January 16, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I know we’re well into January. The Happy-New-Year email from the school nurse announcing large amounts of norovirus, pneumonia, and strep, didn’t really need to start with “Happy New Year.”

And the last thing you need is another Hanukkah post, but considering Hanukkah made it into January this year, I get a pass.

I meant to include this last week, but my brain no longer functions as a massive rolodex of blog content. The thoughts come and go. Sometimes they come back, sometimes they’re gone forever.

On December 20th our Mensch on the Bench arrived. He landed in the vicinity of our elves. RB noticed him first,

“Look there’s a guy!”

BB came running,

“It’s a mensch on the bench!”

RB asks,

“Can we touch him?”

BB screams,

“NOOO you’ll ruin his magic!”

RB asks,

“Does he go to the North Pole?”

I feel woefully unprepared for a mensch on the bench, but this I’ve got covered thanks to my wonderful yoga buddy. I declare,

“I think he goes to Jerusalem.”

Both girls nod their heads. This makes sense. As much sense as anything can make when three magical dolls are sitting in your kitchen plant.

On Christmas Eve our elves returned to the North Pole, i.e. a nondescript box with all correspondence between them and BB. I stared at Mensch. He stared at me.

How could he abandon us the day before Hanukkah starts? So he stayed. And stayed.

Back at the beginning of December, when BB mentioned she’d like a mensch, and I ordered one, I didn’t think about having committed future Jessica to an additional nine days of finding new, novel locations for magical friends.

A little knot of dread welled up inside of me, but I reassured myself that Hanukkah will never be this late in the year again until who knows when, so I pushed through.

In mid-December, the first thing my kids did in the morning was rush around the house looking for our international friends. By the end of December, I wasn’t even sure I needed to move Mensch. Had they looked for him?

When I mentioned to a friend that Mensch goes back to Jerusalem every night, she asked,

“Is that safe?”

And the good news is it’s getting safer!

Way back in November, I committed to hosting book club January 9th. I told everyone my house may or may not still be decorated for Hanukkah. I didn’t want any pressure to clean up anything.

I ask BB,

“When does Mensch return to Jerusalem for the year?”

“Maybe when the Hanukkah decorations go away?”

I have never cleaned up so promptly. On January 2nd, still within the last official hours of Hanukkah, the decorations began to disappear.

But Mensch was already gone. He made a New Year’s departure. I can’t really be expected to continue this into January.

One late-December morning RB woke up, pounded downstairs and tromped past Mensch in a different kitchen plant. I have a plant problem. RB glanced at him and shouted to me,

“That guy from Israel is still here.”

Happy New Year! I resolve to keep blogging at very irregular intervals. I’d love to promise you more than that. Maybe next year

Posted on January 7, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

I can’t say I recommend pneumonia. It took me out.

It’s hard to say when I went from some virus my small children swiped up from somewhere to never getting better.

I had a cough at the beginning of December. At some point I added congestion. By the week before Christmakkuh I was in bed in the middle of the day.

I took myself to the doctor. In the NP’s visit notes I’m referred to as:

“A pleasant 42-year-old female who presents today for evaluation of cough.”

I’m not sure where they got that idea. I did not feel pleasant.

I had already tested negative for Covid. I then tested negative for the flu and strep. My lungs sounded fine except he said he might’ve heard something. Then I was sent home.

On one of the busiest weeks of the whole year, I cleared my schedule and aside from being up and about for necessities, coughing all over my whole family, I was in bed.

And aside from feeling like I was dying, it was kinda nice to peace out.

The NP sent me home, so I wasn’t in a rush to go back to the doctor. Might’ve been nice if I did.

My inclination is to tough things out and eventually I’ll get better. That didn’t work out for me.

I took two more COVID tests, both negative.

On the second day of Hanukkah, ten days after I had last been at urgent care, I went again. A different NP said my lungs sounded nice and clear. She also said the last guy wrote in his notes,

“If she comes back, get a chest x-ray.”

Wish I’d known that. I might’ve come back sooner and not spent the week in bed.

My nice and clear lungs got x-rayed and were actually both full of fluid and diagnosed with pneumonia.

Between multiple antibiotics and codeine, I felt like a new woman in no time.

It turned out to be one of the best Hanukkahs I’ve ever had. I can’t remember the last time Hanukkah was during school vacation week. It was so relaxing.

Usually Hanukkah is a rush of: school, activities, light candles, eat dinner, open presents, play for a minute, go to bed, repeat.

This year it was eight days of: sleep late, leisurely breakfast, open presents, play, play, play, relax, light candles, eat dinner, never take off Hanukkah jammies.

We left the house plenty of the days, but it did not necessitate taking off our jammies.

If anyone is considering Target’s dollhouse for American Girl dolls, I can confirm it’s massive. Any dollhouse that requires wall anchors to not kill small children, is no small addition to the toy collection.

Back in August I mentioned the house to Captain. I told him the dimensions. He said,

“WHAT?! NO WAY!”

Somewhere between then and now I won him over, as evidenced by the missing corner of our living room, where there is now a three story mansion my children can fit inside.

There were many shared gifts this year. One gift, two girls. That’s just how it’s going to be and a week of screaming be damned.

The girls vacillate between playing together for hours like a dream, to being out for blood.

The house was in the middle of both scenarios.

During one ferocious battle of who puts what where in the dollhouse, RB said,

“Maybe we need two houses.”

At which point I kicked both kids out of the living room. Dollhouse all to myself.

If anyone has reservations about a 5-year old lighting her own candles, we do too

And if anyone’s wondering what happens when you take post-pneumonia lungs to 9,000 feet above sea level in Quito, Ecuador, I will let you know next month!