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 if 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 only looked up from her iPad 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 that 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 way to go, 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 that I’ve been wondering if 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!