Portugal, Germany, Austria, Switzerland and home in time for Passover, but it was a close call!

Posted on March 31, 2026 by Good Times with Jess

I don’t know where to begin!

There was a slim chance I was going to write a blog post before we left on our trip. Then Lufthansa went on strike, our flight was canceled, and we left a day early.

I did not write. I didn’t do many things I intended to do. The biggest thing I regret was not packing my slippers.

I also forgot to put air tags in our ski bags, and I could’ve lived to regret that, but the luggage gods were on our side.

With no direct flight from Boston to Munich for days, we scrambled. At first I looked for flights with one stop. When that wasn’t getting us anywhere, we went with two stops: Boston ➡️ Azores ➡️ Lisbon ➡️ Munich.

We rolled up to the Azores Airline’s check-in desk at Logan with our massive ski bags. We had the most amazing agent check us in. He peered at me over our pile of luggage and said,

“You booked a ticket without checked bags.”

I have no idea what we booked. “We talked to them on the phone and they said our ski bags were ok.”

“When did you book these tickets?”

“This morning. Our Lufthansa flight to Munich was just canceled.”

He looks down and types. I add,

“We don’t have seats; if it’s possible for the kids to sit with one of us that would be great.” But also fine if they’re stuck with someone else.

“You don’t have seats?!”

“We just booked these tickets.”

He looks down and types some more.

“I put you all together.”

“You did?! Wow!”

He proceeds to tag our ski bags. Then he points at our carryons,

“You need to check those too. It’s free.”

SEVEN checked bags. I don’t know whether I’ve ever had more than one checked bag before, never mind SEVEN.

I gave up before we even started. What were the odds that three oversized ski bags and four rollaboards would make it Boston ➡️ Azores ➡️ Lisbon ➡️ Munich?

Our Lufthansa flight would’ve served us dinner and a snack. I ask the Azores agent,

“Is there a meal on this flight?”

He laughs and shakes his head. He looks at me,

“You know this is a small plane right?”

So it was. We squeaked through security. I had added a new surprise squishy toy to BB’s backpack… it almost didn’t make it through.

In retrospect those are very liquidy.

The Azores airport is a small, open air, island airport with birds flying through and joining us for our 4am snack.

If we weren’t packed entirely wrong for an Azores holiday, I would’ve said we could just stay there.

As it was we stayed in the airport for hours. And because of aforementioned forgotten air tags, I had to live with the uncertainty of having no idea where two of our seven bags were.

BB alternated between sleeping, writing in her travel journal, and buying Azores souvenirs. RB looked up from her iPad only when I made her go to the bathroom.

I appreciate both of those travel styles.

Twenty-four hours later we landed in Munich. Lo and behold there were our seven bags, and we were ten hours early for the original start of our vacation. Winning!

We skied. We played LEGOs. Before this year I didn’t know there was such a thing as a ski resort LEGO partnership. It was amazing! Back in December I didn’t get to experience the ski school, so we all met the giant LEGO lady for the first time together.

There’s one big thing which we experienced that rarely happens to us in our regular life and that was: elevators!

Adults are quick to overlook these, but the under-12 set DO NOT.

After two nights in Munich and one night in Austria, the elevator situation was all-consuming, and the button pressing was a sibling war zone.

On our first ski morning at 7am, I opened my eyes and stretched. RB, in the cot next to me, opened her eyes, rolled over, and declared,

“I NEED to talk to you about the elevator buttons!!!”

We all have our vacation priorities.

Next trip we’ll just go visit Captain’s office and take turns pressing elevator buttons. Save ourselves some jet lag.

The elevator became such a hot-button issue (forgive me, I couldn’t resist), that I declared the stairs to be “special Mommy and RB time.”

Believe it or not, that worked and by the end of the trip almost everyone was taking the stairs.

We skied our hearts out, swore to come back, and then tried to check in for our return flight: FAIL.

I called Lufthansa. They told me,

“You can’t check in because you didn’t take your outbound flight.”

“YOU CANCELLED OUR OUTBOUND FLIGHT.”

“The only way you can fly back is if you purchase another ticket.”

HELL NO. I spent the next several hours on the phone, but I did not give Lufthansa any more of my money, and we were confirmed for our flight home.

Ischgl to the Munich airport is a three-hour drive. I’ve done this drive several times before without a hitch.

At 9am off we went. Our driver even had gummy bears for the girls.

They have gotten candy from almost every car service we’ve had. I realized how out of touch they’d become when we got in a five-minute taxi ride in Munich and RB shouted,

“Where’s the candy?”

Hour one of the drive we made our way through the valley. Hour two of our drive we drove the switchbacks back and forth over the mountain pass. Then on our single lane road, we came to a stop. A tree had fallen across the entire road, and no one was going anywhere.

There was only one way, back the way we came. So back over the mountain pass we went. We repeated the hour of switchbacks, drove through the valley, and finally made it to the highway. We were still two hours away from the airport and now in the territory of missing our flight.

I cannot say enough good things about our driver or how much I appreciated our 100mph travels.

We MADE IT. And with fifteen minutes to spare to buy a snack.

The silver lining of all this was I’ve been wondering whether a 24-hour travel day to Africa or Asia would be too much for my kiddos, but they have proved that with functioning iPads, anything is possible.

Meanwhile at home, St. Patrick’s day came and went. Nine-year-old BB insisted on making a leprechaun trap.

I expressed my concern. I don’t know what everyone else does, but our leprechaun makes his appearance while my kids are sleeping. So for BB to leave a trap as we get in the car for the airport, I was beside myself with when anything clandestine would happen.

I didn’t want BB’s hopes and dreams to be ruined when there was no sign of a leprechaun. I pressed BB,

“This is a bad idea. What if your trap works? Then we’d come home to a decaying leprechaun.”

She was not deterred by this and set her trap anyway.

Despite our abrupt departure a day early, I remembered to add a bunch of candy to the trap.

Thankfully we came home to candy only and no leprechaun remains.

Did I mention I’m winning?

Next trip will be childfree, but this was a good one!

Countdown to kitty! And the new year!

Posted on December 29, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

What a whirlwind! Germany, Austria, Switzerland, skiing, working, Hanukkah, Hanukkah, Hanukkah, Christmas… breathe.

It has been a MONTH.

As the cookie crumbs settled on all the new things I need to find a place for, including a cat tree (more on that later), I was desperately craving Jewish-Christmas dinner: Chinese food.

My babies have been playing together 80% beautifully and 20% blood-curdling screams.

Mid-sibling fight I stuff them in the car and head to the restaurant.

There’s a pause in the brawl. BB comes up for air and says,

“Can I ask you something weird?”

“Of course.”

“Can RB and I have a sleepover?”

That’s not as weird as I was mentally preparing for. “If RB wants to.”

“Sure do!!!”

So the screaming is done and they’re ready for snuggles.

The Chinese restaurant is packed! There are multiple tables full of to-go bags. BB asks,

“Are all these people Jewish?”

“No way.”

If all those people were Jewish, I wouldn’t be filing away the millionth Christmas coloring sheet from school.

Many of RB and BB’s gifts were shared. The larger the physical size of the gift, the more likely it’s shared. Who’s got space for two American Girl doll vet clinics? Not I.

I’m still trying to make room for one.

So one cat. Two kids. I joked with Captain,

“Maybe we need two cats?”

He looked at me like I had truly lost my mind. Maybe I have. Maybe when there’s a cat tug of war, I will look prophetic.

Captain has joked about evening out the gender disparity and two male cats would do the trick. As long as we’re not worried about who has balls or not.

So the biggest concern for BB and RB is: where will this cat sleep? Will it understand that it needs to evenly divide its time between the two girls’ beds? Or will they have sleepovers in perpetuity?

Maybe the cat will just sleep with me.

What a year! One of the best and there are still two days left. Happy New Year! See you in 2026!

Come for the breathtaking views and guaranteed snow. Stay for the delicious food, the best après ski and the friendliest hospitality. I went to three amazing Austrian ski resorts:
⛷️Ischgl – ski endless runs in Austria and Switzerland with one of the most high tech lift systems in the world! Think no lines, heated seats and only minutes to the peak. On the Ikon pass.
🗻Sölden – ski on the glacier! Epic pass
🏂Gurgl – super family friendly! Epic

Skiing back and forth between Switzerland and Austria all day!

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

Posted on September 11, 2025 by Good Times with Jess

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

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

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

“How could you not do it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They left with three chairs and no soccer ball.

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

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

“Again?!? I thought you retired.”

Just getting started.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you going to get a new pair?”

“Maybe, but doesn’t seem worth it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you say so.”

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know.”

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

“Are there other color options?”

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

Apparently white-turquoise is not a unisex color.

I settled for comfort and performance in a unisex black.

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

“What do you do to work out?”

“I walk.”

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

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

“She walks with a weighted vest!”

I do now.

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

I’m some new version of the old me.

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

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

They can thank me later.