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.
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.
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.
Disembarking
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.”
Shark food headed in
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?
Slow and steady
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.
Mid epic journey homeIt is the rainy seasonIsland taxi! See your luxury travel architect for more carseat safety tips
Good Times with Jess 