Ski ya later! Have I mentioned how much I love ski school?

Posted on January 23, 2026 by Good Times with Jess

Turns out my children ski like their personalities.

Maybe all of us skiers ski like our personalities and I just have no self-awareness of what that looks like for me.

Heading into our ski weekend, BB’s biggest fear was that her younger sister would surpass her in their ski school levels.

It was not an unwarranted concern since that is exactly what happened two years ago.

BUT turns out when you don’t ski for two years, a 9-year-old has much better retention than a 6-year-old.

So BB started out at a level above RB and stayed that way even when they both moved up. I’m very grateful for this. My sanity is desperate for anything that mitigates sibling rivalry.

We’re still joking (not joking), that we need two cats.

We did two days of ski school and one day skiing as a family. It far exceeded my expectations, especially after a rough start.

It began with BB being beyond anxious. Our ten day trip with seven ski days in the Alps is around the corner, so it’s not an ideal time to have a kid who doesn’t like skiing.

BB ended her day in smiles, with her instructor raving about her confidence. And to think I was just hoping she’d be willing to ski again.

By the time the third day of skiing rolled around and we headed out as a family, I couldn’t believe how happy everyone was. Usually we have no shortage of little people willing to complain about anything at any point: socks, temperature, a sister’s suspect facial expressions.

So to be in our ski gear, headed out the door, all smiles at 8am, was truly a miracle.

And too good to be true.

RB mentioned that her instructor was helping her with the chairlift. That’s all I needed to hear to grab her arm and make sure she got on the chair. Then as we approached disembarkation many many feet off the ground, the bar was raised and I put my arm in front of RB. She shoved it aside and declared,

“I can do it myself!”

We hadn’t even started our first run and I was ready to put her back in ski school.

Twelve years ago when Captain and I were dating we skied at Sunday River all the time. I knew my way around the mountain. My brain seems to have decided that that information was not worth retaining.

On our third evening, BB sat down to make a plan for our final day. She rattled off a list of runs, the order we would ski them and which one to take to get to the next one as well as which lifts we needed to be on. I stared at her in shock and said to Captain,

“Can you believe she knows all the names of the runs and how to get everywhere?”

Captain replied,

“I didn’t even see any names. Were there signs?”

Yes! There were signs! This is what happens when you ski without your readers.

He can’t see the signs and I can’t remember them, maybe we do need to ski with our children more.

Or maybe not based on RB’s behavior. BB was the agreed upon leader but then RB followed so closely she was running her over every two seconds. We tried to let RB lead, but apparently she turns only when there’s someone in front of her.

So Captain took the lead and RB did her best to run him over. I stayed as far away from her as possible and brought up the rear.

RB leaned back in an extra wide parallel stance and was out of sight in a minute. BB made careful, parallel turns. She was leaning forward, using her edges, her technique looked amazing.

This is who they are. RB couldn’t care less about rules. Turn while skiing? Not she, but she’s happy to remind BB to.

Meanwhile BB was following every single rule her instructor imparted upon her. As we spent what felt like five years getting down the mountain, I could see her working on everything she ever learned.

The way they ski is the same way they return home from school.

They ride the same bus and get off at the same stop. RB storms through the front door, goes to the bathroom, eats her snack and is playing toys by the time BB meanders in.

I am very curious about what version of RB they had in ski school. As I snuggled her in bed she said,

“My instructor got irritated with me once.”

“He did?”

“He said I was going too fast.”

“Yeah?”

“I had to go fast because it went down then up to a jump.”

“What happened?”

“I landed it and he said that it was pretty good.”

Great. Positive reinforcement for skiing like a lunatic.

RB adds,

“Why would I go slow? That would be silly.”

Very silly indeed.

Both girls had so much fun they didn’t want to leave.

It’s such a relief that we’re all excited for seven ski days in the Alps and the good news is we have six days of ski school.

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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!

The magic of the holidays is alive! Or not! Depending who’s asking

Posted on December 12, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

It’s that time of year again when I marvel at the enormous amount of Hanukkah decor I’ve accumulated and I don’t add anything else. NOT ONE THING.

JUST KIDDING. Home Goods had a giant, metal, light up sign, as tall as my children, with arrows showing you what direction Hanukkah is. It’s HERE!

If I jumped the shark four years ago when I purchased traditional Hanukkah gnomes. I don’t know what I’ve done now, considering this decoration doesn’t even fit in our storage bins

Tutu, our elf on the shelf is back, she had a baby. Which surprised all of us.

I bought a tiny American Girl doll elf, intending to give it as a gift Christmas Day/Hanukkah night. The tiny elf is so CUTE. I couldn’t resist it coming out sooner.

What I didn’t anticipate was that this would send RB down the rabbit hole of how babies are made and more specifically, how elf babies are made.

Things in the Land of Make Believe have deteriorated. I’m not sure who believes what at this point and I’m about ready to wave the white flag or one of my 37 Hanukkah dish towels.

I would like to tell you I did not buy another one this year, but that would be a lie.

RB (my 5-year old) has come down every morning and interrogated me.

A few weeks ago, before our elf appeared, she stared deep into my soul and asked,

“Is the Easter Bunny real or are you the Easter Bunny?”

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s you.”

“Ah.”

She does not like this non answer. She presses her nose against mine and yells

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

I cannot hold up to these interrogation techniques. I whimper,

“It’s me.”

“I KNEW IT!”

At which point BB (8-years old) joined us and I thought RB would tell all. RB didn’t say a word.

Then Tutu our elf appeared. BB reminded RB not to touch her or else that would ruin her magic. BB ran around writing notes to Tutu, making her jewelry and when I wasn’t home, putting out a charcuterie board with cheese for her.

Why Captain thought that was a good idea I DO NOT KNOW.

The next morning RB pressed her face against mine and yelled,

“Is Tutu magic or DID YOU BUY HER AT THE STORE?”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s real and pretend.”

“Sounds about right.”

No one should have to deal with the 7am pre-breakfast wrath of RB. (Who may be hard of hearing, so we’ll give her a small benefit of doubt with the yelling.) She locks eyes with me, staring deep beyond my soul again and shouts,

“DID YOU BUY TUTU AT THE STORE?!! TELL ME THE TRUTH!”

“Yes, I did.”

“I knew it.”

Again BB joined us and I was sure RB would tell her the new information. RB didn’t say a word. Not only did RB not say a word, but she continued to join BB in talking to Tutu and relaying messages for Santa.

Then two nights ago RB lost her first tooth! She accepted her money and hasn’t asked a single question about the toothfairy.

This morning, in what has continued to be my 7am torture session, RB asked,

“Does Santa really bring presents or is it you and Dad?”

Months ago I told both kids,

“This year, because the first night of Hanukkah is the same day as Christmas, we’re not going to do any Christmas presents. We’ll just do Hanukkah presents.”

BB said,

“That’s ok, because Santa will still bring us something.”

And so Santa set aside one gift for Christmas, because as you may have guessed, I have a strong affinity for Hanukkah.

This morning, RB wouldn’t even give me her usual good morning hug, kiss and snuggle. She demanded answers about Santa. I asked,

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s you and dad.”

“Yeah.”

“IS IT?!? TELL ME THE TRUTH!!!”

“Yes, it’s Dad and me.”

BB told me recently that a friend had told her and RB that the Easter Bunny wasn’t real. I asked BB,

“What do you think?”

“She made those muddy footprints in our living room one year!”

“That’s true. I think the Easter Bunny is like a unicorn. You can believe in them if you want.”

“Unicorns aren’t real.”

“Right.”

“The Easter Bunny is.”

So I think we’re in the land of BB wanting to believe. And I’m not sure what land RB is in. She believes and doesn’t believe and hasn’t said a word to BB about any of it.

To put this all over the absolute top. BB came home from Hebrew school this week and asked,

“Why don’t we have a Mensch on the Bench?”

“I don’t know. We have two elves. Isn’t that enough?”

“But the Mensch on the Bench is for Hanukkah.”

“Is the Mensch on the Bench magic?”

This is a huge question of mine. The whole elf on the shelf thing goes along with Santa and all that make believe. BB ponders the Mensch magic dilemma and replies,

“Maybe?”

Our Mensch on the Bench is facing a shipping delay from whichever magical place with tariffs he’s coming from, but he should be here December 20th.

I asked my fellow Jewish yoga buddy,

“I don’t know what I’m doing with the Mensch, is he magic? Where does he go every night? Not back to the North Pole.”

“Jerusalem!”

Of course he does. Please give a warm welcome to our future Mensch and the last bit of Hanukkah decor I will buy. Until next week.

Where do you want to go? Check with your nearest consultant

Posted on November 21, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

Bonjour mes amis! I started work in September and I wouldn’t say I’m coming up for air, but I am prioritizing writing today.

My post-election workout vibe has been vengeance cardio, but my post-election writing vibe is: I’M SO EXCITED TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY NEW JOB!

Toddler Jessica promised to be a hair dresser. Girlhood Jessica swore she was going to be a prima ballerina. Teenage Jessica realized that was not to be and floundered for new ideas.

College Jessica zeroed in on writing. Post-college Jessica realized she could write AND travel. Writing, traveling Jessica realized working on a yacht was not for the faint of heart and recommitted to bartending to fund her writing/traveling habit.

Writing/traveling/bartending Jessica met Captain. Thirty-year-old Jessica rediscovered how she’d rather die than be in an office.

Then I got knocked up.

The idea to stay home with our kids was always grounded in the idea that someday, I would also do something else. TBD.

I spent all of last year thinking about what TBD might be. In a pinch I’d go back to bartending, but I wracked my brain for other ideas.

I figured I might as well define what my dream job would be. That didn’t really get me anywhere. So then I defined the qualities that my dream job would have: work from home and flexible hours.

My morning yoga and zumba classes feel non-negotiable. For me they are the equivalent to going to therapy.

RB requires drop-off and pick-up this year and both kids need an afternoon chauffeur, which I’d like to be here for. We have a secondary chauffeur, but he’s not as flexible.

Travel agent was something that kept popping into my head. I’ve thought about it on and off for years. I wrote it off as a dying industry.

Turns out people still use them. Captain pointed out,

“Our neighbors are all very capable of mowing their lawns, but they don’t want to.”

So that’s it. People are busy, but they want to take trips. I can help.

I started to reconsider it a year ago. Didn’t see a solid way forward. I was still all talk.

And so I talked on the beach to my dear friend. Who said,

“My friend has her own travel agency.”

Hmmm? Tell me more. Can I talk to her? So it began.

And I know what you’re thinking,

“Aha! Jess is a travel agent.”

Nope. I’m a luxury travel advisor. Advisor is the new agent. And just yesterday I was introduced as a Travel Designer. So there’s that too. As well as Travel Consultant.

Agent/Advisor/Designer/Consultant/woman for hire, they all have one thing in common: TRAVEL! Which I love, which I’m good at and which, I’m somewhat surprised to find out, I LOVE planning for other people.

I’ve been dreaming about Mexico, Scandinavia, Greece, PARIS! All the places my clients are bound for. I’m so EXCITED for them.

That part of it has really been a surprise. I had no idea I’d like planning other people’s trips as much as I do.

PLUS I’m doing it all from my couch, in my jammies, with my coffee, still going to exercise classes, still dragging my kiddos around. Feels somewhat miraculous.

Never mind the subsidized trips I’m eligible for. Which may be worth it all on their own. The work trips would be solo travel, which is how this journey all began. So I’ll be getting back to my roots, minus the overstuffed backpack full of varying degrees of unwashed laundry.

The joy of candy and decorating for EVERY holiday. P.S. Harris/Walz

Posted on November 4, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

Working has got the best of me. More on that soon. But first… The holidays!

RB asked me,

“Do you like Halloween?”

“Yes!”

“But not as much as me.”

“That might be true.”

There are many people in our neighborhood who decorate heavily for ALL holidays. That requires a level of stamina, commitment, organization, storage, money, and caring that I’m not ready for.

Mid-September I put out Star-of-David hand towels for the high holidays. After Yom Kippur, I put them away and took out our Halloween towels.

I spent the rest of the month defending my decorating choices to a five-year-old.

Every morning and every afternoon as we drove the ten minutes to and from school, she observed the neighbors and recited the catalog of possible Halloween swag.

Then she whined,

“When are we going to decorate?!!”

“We already did.”

“We did?”

“Yup. We have kitchen towels, three pumpkins and a sign on the door that says ‘Happy Halloween.”

“NOOOOOOOOO. That doesn’t count.”

The thing is, we do have a small, cackling witch, but anytime I try to hang it up, RB is too scared to walk by it.

EVERY drive she complained. I blasted Taylor Swift and threatened to remove the hand towels.

Every year, Captain gets closer and closer to buying some gigantic animatronic atrocity for the front lawn. And if he caves, no hard feelings, but it won’t be me.

RB tried again. She asked me,

“Why don’t we decorate?”

“We did.”

“Like lots of stuff in our yard.”

“Before you know it, we’re going to be decorating for Hanukkah and Christmas and we have SO MUCH.”

“It’s Hanukkah time?!?!?!?”

Nooo.

So that may have backfired. But to save myself trips in and out of the attic, I may just swap out the Halloween stuff for the holiday stuff. Once the bins are out, it’s anyone’s guess as to how long a Hanukkah gnome can stay in a bin.

I’m not sure when trick-or-treating turned into a sprint…

Other people aren’t decorating for Halloween either…

I don’t know what it is about this pumpkin stack, but I wouldn’t say no to it

Harris/Walz all the way! HERE WE GO

It turns out I do have children, but one may be moving out soon

Posted on October 16, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

My baby is five! And if she were coauthoring this, she would add that she’s not a baby.

On the drive home yesterday she told me,

“When I’m a high school girl, I’m getting my own house and moving out.”

As opposed to BB who’s current plan is to live with us forever. Maybe we’ll compromise and both will reach some happy independent place somewhere between high school and forever.

High school seems to be the current pinnacle. RB was using her pretend tools to fix a pretend car. Captain asked her,

“Are you going to help me fix up my truck?”

“Do I get to use REAL TOOLS?!”

I pipe up,

“When do you think you should use real tools?”

“When I’m a high school girl.”

“Sure thing.”

At pre-k they start their day outside and it’s getting chilly. RB told me,

“I need gloves.”

“How about mittens?”

“I want GLO-OVES!”

“WHAT?!”

“I want GLOVES PLEASE!”

“OK. If you can put them on yourself.”

“I can.”

She proceeds to stick several fingers in one finger hole. With her other hand she feels the empty fingers. She waves her misshapen glove at me and says,

“This glove has too many finger spots.”

It’s the gloves fault?! It couldn’t possibly be an issue on her end.

And as much as RB is ready to move out, she still wants to be BB, but doesn’t hesitate to get in an all-out brawl if so needed.

Both girls pressed their faces against the same living-room window looking for their grandparents. It soon devolved into screaming and pushing. I remind them,

“We have plenty of windows! You don’t need to fight over the same one.”

BB doesn’t move. She says,

“This is the best one for wiping my nose on!”

Just when I thought I was cleaning all the right high-touch surfaces, I forgot to consider the WINDOWS! Children are GROSS.

For a while now BB has been insistent that she really wants a digital watch. We had already given her and RB perfectly good analog ones years ago. I told BB,

“You already have a watch.”

“It’s too hard to tell the time.”

Last year she studied telling time in school. Captain or I could work on this with her. I opted for the $16 digital watch.

She’s thrilled. RB had a major meltdown. I remind RB of HER analog wrist watch. RB is unfazed.

“I want one with the NUMBERS like BB’s!!!”

“But you can’t tell time with either of them.”

“But I want the same one as BB.”

But there’s no argument for that. I tell RB,

“Sorry, no watch, but your birthday is coming up!” This was more a reminder of presents to come, not that I had any intention of adding a digital watch to the pile.

Today, still watchless, RB put on her ski jacket and pulled out her compass. She exclaimed,

“I can tell you the time! It’s Ten Eighty.”

The compass says it’s Ten Eighty, the gloves have too many fingers, my living-room windows are covered in snot and my 5-year-old is moving out in 9 years. My work here is almost done.

Hippo had a hard time taking a selfie with Unicorn

Children? What Children? Haven’t seen them

Posted on September 26, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

I usually spend every weekend with my kiddos. I don’t try to, it’s just life, unless something extraordinary happens. And all of sudden there are three extraordinary things in a row.

First there was a family wedding on the Cape, kids weren’t invited. BYE!

Now there’s a friend getaway this weekend.

Then a different friend group going away next weekend.

And while it’s not ideal to have two friend weekends away in a row, especially after a wedding weekend away, I’m not saying no!

Bye! Bye! And bye again!

The best part of being away is sleeping all night and into the morning without any needy people.

RB is queen of the 4am shoulder tap to let me know she needs to go to the bathroom. She doesn’t require any support aside from wanting to share her experience.

At 4am I’d rather not share any experiences.

The morning of the wedding, I luxuriate in my morning aloneness. Captain meanders out eventually,

“I’m sorry I slept so late.”

Nothing to be sorry about! There were no blood curdling war cries from our children.

We are well into school and are knee deep in activities. RB marched out of swimming very happy.

“I told my teacher I’m 5 and that I’m in kindergarten.”

“Really?”

“Am I?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

Almost five. In pre-k. And on a tear.

Mornings are a lottery. Today she demanded one small braid with a green clip, one pig-tail on the right with a pink, furry scrunchie and the hair on the other half of her head just down. I asked,

“Are you sure?”

“YES.”

I put the finishing touches on her wacko hairdo.

She admired herself in the mirror, let out a cackle and said,

“I look like a villain!”

“A villain?!” Does she even know what she’s talking about? “What’s a villain?”

She looks at me like I’m the odd ball,

“You know. Like in the movies.” She slides a pair of sunglasses onto the collar of her shirt and she’s ready.

As far as I’ve been told, my little villain is a somewhat quiet character at school.

The other day at dinner, BB ponders her sippy cup and asks,

“Do 8-year olds drink from sippy cups?”

“Depends on the 8-year old.”

Any item on our kitchen table goes flying at any point. BB has a knack for inadvertently flinging everything everywhere. After a routine breakfast of toast with Nutella it is not uncommon to find chocolate on her ankles, ears, chair rungs, and the wall.

Whole strawberries, pieces of chicken, green beans find cover under my table. BB knows they’ve gone missing, she just can’t be bothered to chase them down.

Liquids are the most exciting. A flying fork does not send me running, but a full chocolate milk sloshing across the dinner table is hard to ignore.

I understand that I’m raising BB to go out into the world without me and if all goes well she will drink from a cup.

I said ok to no sippy cup with a two-spill waiver clause. After two spills, we go back to a sippy. Also I’ve been giving her the shortest, fattest, heaviest glasses we have.

They may not withstand a solid arm swipe across the table, but so far they’ve held up to a few rogue elbows.

Three weekends worth of messes, hair-dos and activities that are not my problem.

And if RB thought she looked like a villain today, I can’t wait to see what she looks like after she gives her hair requests to Captain.

Bye!

Can’t go wrong with a little wedding swag!

Back to school! Roger that

Posted on September 6, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

School!

On the drive home from pre-k yesterday RB told me about all the wonderful things she did,

“There’s jewelry! And I wore it ALL.”

Then she stopped and whined,

“M in my class gets to go to school every day.”

“You get to go to school every day too.”

“I do?!!”

YES YOU DO!

Two weeks ago as we dug our toes into the sand for a few final beach days, RB stood next to me and said,

“I’m ready to go home.”

“Ready to go home? We just got to the beach!”

“I have schoolwork to do.”

“You do?”

“I have soccer, ballet, swimming and schoolwork!”

I don’t know what summer schoolwork she thought she had for pre-k, but she’s taking her schedule very seriously.

And these pre-k teachers mean business. RB offered,

“During circle time D asked me if my shoes were velcro, but I refused to answer him because the teachers were talking and we’re supposed to listen.”

If anyone likes a good set of rules, it’s RB. She may or may not abide by them, but she loves to hold everyone else accountable.

She’s fast approaching five years old and any visible signs of babyhood are long gone, like her delicious, oh so munchable, squeezable, to-die-for, thigh rolls. When she was a baby/toddler I’d love her up, squish her legs and say,

“Oh I love these chubby bubbies!”

It became our thing. So much so that by the time she was four, and her chubby bubbies weren’t so chubby anymore, I’d give her kisses on her cheek, a big hug and then start to walk away. She exclaimed,

“Hey!” And lifted up a leg. I had NO IDEA what she was doing. I just stared. She continued,

“Do you want a chubby bubbie?”

“I DO WANT a chubby bubbie!” At which point I squished and munched it right up. Children are delicious. (Especially when I’m home alone writing about them in peace.)

Then I started to walk away. RB shouted,

“Do you want the other one?”

“YES I DO!”

So our thing became a hug, kiss and several thigh squeezes.

Most nights I snuggle RB to sleep. I only have patience for this because I stroke her arm five times and she’s asleep. This week she stroked my upper arm back. Then she squished it. Then she murmured,

“You have chubby bubbies too!”

So I do.

The weekend before school started we squeezed in one last sailing day. There’s a radio on the boat which is used to call marinas, other boats or the yacht club. People use specific radio language. Like: over, out, roger, etc.

Roger means: I received and understood your message. My kids have been listening to this without comment for years.

After a final beautiful sail for the season, we returned to our mooring. RB was bouncing off of the rails and knew we needed to radio to get off the boat. Annoyed she yelled,

“Can someone call Roger?!”

And we did.

Now my babies are off! Third grade and pre-k. As I walked RB up to drop-off this morning, she looked annoyed she couldn’t shake me. She stopped and said,

“When you drop me off for high school you DO NOT need to walk me in.”

ROGER.

Captain’s Brat Summer

Posted on August 9, 2024 by Good Times with Jess

Happy 50th birthday to Captain!

I’m getting used to 42. For devoted readers of my blog or readers who have been with me since my bartending days, you may remember a bar regular whose code name was Old Guy.

I was 27 when I came up with that gem and you guessed it, he was 42.

I would not take kindly to being called Old Gal or Old anything. Even if many days I feel ancient compared to 27.

I spent an inordinate amount of time googling “Brat.” If Vice President Harris IS Brat, then I want to have a Brat summer too. Or at least understand what heck is going on and why we’re wearing green.

Don’t get me started on no-show socks.

I also wish I could have a word with Past Jessica. When 27-year-old Jessica casually lumped all people over 40 into “Old,” she was oblivious to her own march through time.

The morning of Captain’s birthday RB exclaimed,

“We got you a cake but we’re not supposed to tell you about it!”

Right.

As Captain blew out his candles, the kids shouted,

“Are you one? Are you two? Are you three? …”

Which is great if you’re under twenty.

“Are you eleven? Are you twelve?…”

I interrupt,

“How about you go by tens?”

“Are you twenty? Are you thirty? Are you forty? Are you FIFTY?!”

Current Jessica feels very youthful next to a 50-year-old. And if Captain thought he could forget for a minute how old he’s turning, no luck because I bought a fair amount of 50th birthday accoutrement.

Eight years is a long time to save it, but as I have learned, my time will come. If I’m lucky.