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.
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.
C’est moi! Circa 1986 ish?Bye turquoise ski bootsTraveling carry-on only in Mali. Apparently not a unisex backpack
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.
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 aliveWeee!!!Everything is fine
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
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.
We’re home! We traveled around Alaska for 2 weeks, changing towns every couple days. We vacationed by plane, train, bus, boat, bike, zipline, raft, tram, hike, helicopter, dog sled, truck, van and some of us in a backpack carrier.
It was a dream come true. In part thanks to RB’s brand-new iPad. I understand people traveled with children before there were personal devices, but thanks to the iPad, I never felt compelled to dose her with my stash of drowsy drugs.
It all felt a little miraculous. RB is a notorious screamer, clinger, avoider of dogs. One of my biggest pre-trip fears was that she would ruin our dog-sled ride. I bought all the dog-sled books. I thought about buying the helicopter books too, but she likes her vehicles.
There were smiles on the helicopter. No desire to pet the dogs, but no complaining. Then she sat on the very front of the dog sled, snow slamming into her face and not a peep.
I swear she wasn’t drugged.
Also BB and I were on a different dog sled than her, so either way we were guaranteed a good time.
I planned a bunch of “summer activities.” Hikes that in the summer would not require snow gear. May is considered the shoulder season for summer tourism in Alaska. I knew that, but didn’t understand that that meant a week before we arrived in Denali National Park they still had 7 feet of snow.
Now if you say the word “hike,” RB responds,
“Snow?!”
It didn’t stop us, just slowed Captain down. That and 33 pounds of toddler on his back.
The rafting trip was touted as a ride gentle enough for babies and 100 year olds. It was. There was very little white water and when there was white water, RB shouted,
“Again! Again!” Then both kids went back to general complaining. BB wanted to stand like RB, refusing to admit that her center of gravity was way higher and that falling overboard into the 40 degree water was a surefire way to ruin my trip.
Next time we need class III rapids or an iPad on the raft.
After the iPad, my second most favorite trip purchase was Cosco’s Scenera NEXT 7 pound, $60 carseat. I’m not being paid anything for this post and I paid full price for the car seat. Although if anyone is tempted to pay me, I’d be happy to dedicate a whole post to the Scenera.
It fits on top of a rolling carry-on suitcase. At first we tied it down with a bungee cord, but it actually just stays there with nothing.
You might be thinking, ‘Jess, did you really need a carseat?’
Aside from one week with a rental truck, we didn’t really need one. BUT I cannot say enough good things about having a 5-point harness.
BB is the type of kid who at 18 months wouldn’t get out of her toddler bed until an adult came in the room and told her she could.
RB is the type of kid who will be in a crib until further notice. The 5-point harness was made for her.
We used the car seat EVERYWHERE. She slept in it and I carried her in it into restaurants, hotels, national parks. It probably made her less safe on the train, but it made me more sane, so it’s a delicate balance.
It contained her, but it made her feet reach the airplane seat in front of her during our red-eye flight home. Yes I booked a red-eye. No I’m not totally insane. We saved a lot of money on those tickets. Hopefully enough money to book another red-eye someday.
At 1:00am, RB was happy, awake, watching her iPad and operating the in-seat airplane entertainment screen with her bare feet. Much to the detriment of the man in front of her.
So as far as I can tell, that’s the only downside of a carseat on a plane.
As we slogged through airport security, the suitcase with the girls’ stuff was flagged. TSA demands,
“Is there a machine in here?”
“A what?!”
“A machine!”
“Oh. There’s a baby music player.”
“All machines need to come out. We told you that.”
Maybe there needs to be some fine print about what qualifies as a machine.
Going back through security to return home, the “machine” did not come out and wasn’t flagged for extra screening. Although our to-go salad was. Maybe there was a questionable amount of salad dressing.
Last but not least I need to give a huge shout-out to vanilla ice cream.
iPad, carseat and vanilla ice cream. They saw us through. BB managed a somewhat varied diet of everything you can imagine on a kid’s menu. RB existed on ice cream, some fries, some chips, some crackers, some granola bars, some cookies, a fair amount of juice, but mainly vanilla ice cream.
And we never saw nighttime. The sun set around midnight and rose around 3am. Our rooms were dark enough and we were tired enough it didn’t stop us from sleeping, but any sense of what time it was was lost.
That feeling that it might be dinner time or bedtime didn’t hit us until 9pm. Then it was way too late to care about anything besides getting everyone in bed or their crib. The travel crib is the fourth MVP of the trip.
Last night BB asked me,
“Why didn’t we floss in Alaska?”
“We’re lucky we brushed our teeth.”
At 10pm, on the evening of our return, I sat in Seattle’s airport playroom, entrenched in the smell of old feet. I studied a sign instructing children to remove their shoes. BIG MISTAKE.
On our way TO Alaska we spent 3 hours in Minneapolis’ airport playground. It’s a winner. It’s well-ventilated, has big play structures and everyone is encouraged to keep their shoes on.
As my children ran around like lunatics, crashing into several other Boston bound lunatics, I overheard the parents discussing what drugs to give them on the plane. Foot smell aside, contentment washed over me. What a fabulous trip it was and great to be headed home with like-minded people.
Both kids in the crib for the win.5-point harnessThis is what happens when you don’t have a 5-point harness.
Good Times with Jess 