Limping across the… starting line?


I was going to post this vent on Facebook but decided that I had much too much to say bitch about for a mere status update. Read it if you want. Or don’t. I just need to document the complete failure of our health shields in this house and the way we’re already limping and we’ve just crossed the STARTING line!

So, the Nib had impetigo a few weeks ago. Apparently, a LOT of kids had impetigo at the end of the summer, considering everyone I talk to says, “OH [insert name of their kid or someone they know] had impetigo, too! They think he/she caught it at [insert name of camp] here.”

Impetigo is a gross, extremely uncomfortable rash that spreads easily and according to the Nib, “…ITCHES SO MUCH AND HURTS SO MUCH… AT THE SAME TIME… OMG, THIS IS THE WORST!”

I guess it’s also somehow related to the strep virus because when HD started complaining about a sore throat last week, everyone was all, “Oh, it’s probably strep which he probably caught from Nib’s impetigo.”

HD rallied enough to make it to the first day of school because WHO MISSES THE FIRST DAY OF KINDERGARTEN? But when he got off the bus and told me that it was “… his worst first day of Kindergarten EVER,” I wondered if maybe I made the wrong call by sending him. Hmmm.

Still, for the First Day of School we had a pretty good record: 3/3 made it!

Brought HD to the doctor that afternoon and even thought it LOOKED like strep and FELT like strep, it wasn’t strep. At first, I was really glad the strep test came back negative because I was feeling PRETTY BAD about being the Mom who sent her kid to the first day of Kindergarten with strep and possibly gave all the other brand new Kindergarteners strep as well. “OOPS, so sorry about bringing that infectious disease into the classroom on their very first day of school EVER!” So yeah, the negative strep test was good.

But THEN, the doctor put him on antibiotics anyway just in case and when HD was still complaining after three days, I was all “Geez, if this was strep, he’d be better by now… WTF?” (which in essence, was me saying, “Screw you, brand new Kindergarteners, I WISH it was an infectious disease,” which basically makes me the worst person in the world. #sorrynotsorrywishitwasstrep)

OK, so then HD missed the very SECOND day of Kindergarten, which isn’t nearly as bad as missing the first, but still not great, but whatever. Instead, we spent the the day together on the couch. RIGHT next to each other. Because that’s where he needed me to be. ALL DAY. Kind of sad, but also kind of awesome.

Second Day of School: 2/3

But guess what all-day cuddling with a kid with a virus leads to? YOU with a virus. And by “YOU,” I mean, “ME.” So yeah, I felt like crap by Friday night.

This is me catching the non-strep virus:


Saturday morning, we all woke up slowly and felt… OK. Well, we really WANTED to feel OK because we had plans to see “School of Rock” and have dinner in NYC. HD seemed better, I was rallying… sooooo, we’re good to go!

Guess what… we’re NOT good to go. HD whimpered his way through the the first act and begged to go home. So I left with him at intermission leaving KJ to watch the second half of the show with Nib and LO, take them to dinner and then take the train home since I was taking the car.

First Half of “School of Rock:” 5/5
Second Half of “School of Rock” and Dinner: 3/5

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We’re ready to ROCK!


I’m ready to GO HOME!

On Sunday, we were supposed to go to a big family BBQ at T&P’s. I really, really wanted to go, but as 2:00pm approached, I realized that it wasn’t going to happen for me. Grayson was also still borderline so he and I decided to stay home.

Family BBQ: 3/ … oh wait! Minutes before leaving, the Nib poked his own eye. Badly. He was screaming in pain, couldn’t open it, blah blah blah. We made a new plan, KJ will bring LO over to the BBQ and come back later to pick up the Nib and bring him to the party once he recovered.

OK, scratch that, Family BBQ: 2/5

Well, Nib never recovered. He spent most of the day blindly (literally) screaming in pain and yelling things like, “WHEN WILL THIS PAIN END? WILL I EVER FEEL NORMAL AGAIN? I CAN’T STAND IT!” That is not an exaggeration. I have it on video. I will not share it because there are some privacy lines that even I won’t cross.

This is what most of Sunday looked like:


This is my “Yes, I will cuddle and love your sore throat and badly-poked eye selves and ignore my own failing health, BECAUSE I’M A MOM AND THAT’S WHAT WE DO AND NO, I’M NOT RESENTFUL AT ALL” face. 

A couple hours after KJ and LO left for the BBQ, I got a text from KJ: “LO is asleep on the couch; she was complaining of a bad headache. I’m going to wake her up and bring her home.” Oy. Kevin brought her home and we all went to bed.

Final Tally, Family BBQ: 0/5

Yesterday morning was off to a slow start, with multiple sore throats, one sore eye and one sore head but by early afternoon, things were looking up. Throats, eye and head were all feeling better… hallelujah! Being a stupid parent (again? really?), I decided LO and I could make it out to the store for school supplies and after about an hour, she started crying that her throat hurt. I tried to tell her NO, IT DOESN’T but she started to cry in Target. She spent the rest of the day in bed, had an extremely fitful night “sleep” and is home from school today.

Third Day of School: 2/5


“I can’t actually eat these cough drops because my throat hurts too much but can I bring them to school tomorrow?” 

So that’s where we’re at. Apparently when I said, “Bring on the new school year… we’re ready for ya!” I was WRONG. I should have said, “I know you’re coming new school year, whether we’re ready or not. And you should know that we’re not really ready. I mean, some of us are, but some of us aren’t. So we’re going to ease into it. We’ll get a couple of us there each day until maybe mid-week, week two. Sound good, school year? Cool, thanks.”

New School Year: A zillion.
Us: Very, very little.

PS. LO had the genius idea of freezing water in popsicle molds so that she could numb her sore throat without actually eating 20 popsicles. Is she the first person to think of this??

Pictures Worth More than 1,000 Words


Dear Kids,

Someday, when you’re reading this blog, you’ll notice that as the years went on, the time between posts stretched longer and longer. In the beginning, my goal was to post at least once a week. I would have liked to write more often, but I was just so tired, you guys. SO FREAKING TIRED. Not sure if you remember, but the three of you weren’t the biggest fans of sleeping. You didn’t (don’t) love going to bed. You didn’t (don’t) love staying in bed. You only loved (still love) getting OUT of bed. All the time. You’re a little bit better about it now, but just like with the boys’ aim while peeing, there’s always room for improvement.

These days, my schedule is looking more like one post per season. Yeah, that’s only four per year. (That’s right, MATH.) There are a few reasons for this slacking off, kids. (Not that I owe you guys any explanations… you have never adequately answered my question about why you need to wake up prior to six-oh-oh every single morning.)

First, you’re all getting older and more aware of social media. You say things like, “Are you going to put that on the Instagram?” (probably) or “Am I going to be famous since I’m on your nap blog?” (um, no). So, I do think twice about writing about your embarrassing behavior in a way that I didn’t when you were younger.

Second, I’m working on some other writing projects now. No, I don’t make any money for them. Did Daddy tell you to ask me that? I’m working on that project with Pop and I’ve been spending a lot of time on that. Yes, I know I only have about three pages written but writing is HARD and you know how long it takes to do hard things! Like really brushing your teeth (as opposed to the swiping method you guys prefer) or cleaning up the American Ninja Warrior Chopped: Team Matchbox vs. Team Hot Wheels set-up.

Third, books are awesome. And I really love to read them. That’s usually why I’m ignoring you guys! You guys should try the whole reading thing sometime. Something OTHER than the Cinnamon Toast Crunch box.

OK, some might call those excuses rather than reasons. Those are annoying people. Tomato, tomahto… let’s get out of it.

I saw something interesting in The New York Times the other day – or maybe it was on Facebook – either way, it was a challenge to parents to find ONE picture of your kid that best sums up his/her personality. Well. You guys probably know by now that I am the first one to jump down a rabbit hole of old photos. It’s just something I do. Dad plays golf and goes to Yankee games; Mom brunches with friends and looks through old photos. It’s important to have hobbies. So of course I was all, CHALLENGE ACCEPTED.

Approximately 28½ hours later, I had narrowed it down to ten each. And then out of the ten, I chose ONE for each of you. Wanna see what I picked?

LO, you’re first. Here are the nine runners up:


It’s no surprise that it’s basically a collage of you communing with nature and animals. (How did I get a girl so passionate about fishing? It still baffles me.) And of course I had to include that one of you with your brand new “boy haircut” (bottom row, middle photo) because that photo reminds me of the quiet confidence you’ve always had to not only be yourself, but to 100% own it.

And if I had to choose just one picture? THIS would be it:

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Geez, that picture makes me so happy. Energy. Enthusiasm. Exuberance. It’s all you.

LO, don’t ever listen to anybody that tells you you have to change – including me. I am definitely guilty of trying to quiet your spirit sometimes. I hope if and when you’re a Mom, you’ll understand the tricky balance between embracing your kid 100% while at the same time discouraging behavior not often well-received in the real world… for instance, using an outside voice in an inside restaurant. 🙂

Let me be clear on one thing though: you are loved, unconditionally. Whether you are cheering on the soccer field (and I do mean, WHILE you are playing), shining on the “Guys & Dolls” stage or yelling across the library, I want you to really hear this: YOU ARE UNCONDITIONALLY LOVED. And you always will be.

NIB, you’re next. Here’s your collage of nine:


Dude, you were a serious baby. Affectionate towards HD… and/or tackling him. Loving sports (and brackets) with your buddies. Mischievous grin. And that shot in the upper-right corner? That’s when you insisted on marching in our town’s Memorial Day parade with LO’s Daisy troop. You were two and a half years old and you walked the entire damn way because you were not going to miss out on that action.

Choosing your perfect photo was easy:


LOOK AT THAT FACE!! Intense. Competitive. Strategic. You’re never as happy as you are during a “winning game.” The ONLY thing this picture doesn’t convey is your sensitivity. You can play tough guy as much as you want… we see your mushy inside! Hold onto it, bud… it will make you a better person, on and off the field.

OK, HD, you’re up. Top nine:


For you, I picked pictures that capture your quiet focus and simple joy.”Meet the Cars” with Pop… two of your favorite things in one picture! That one in the bottom middle perfectly captures the face you make when I strongly encourage you to answer grown-ups when they ask you a question. The photo in the upper left reminds me of what a happy baby you were. You didn’t move until you were like a year old. And I mean, no crawling, no rolling, nothing. We’d put you down just like that with a bunch of toys and you’d still be there hours later. Of course you can be the silliest one of the bunch, but generally, you just want to do your thing. At home. Inside.

Your ONE picture is kind of predictable… I took it a few days ago, the morning after we got home from Ireland. This is what you do.


You just play, imagination at work. I cannot wait to see where it takes you.

I’m pretty sure I WON that Photo Challenge, right Nib?

OK, so here we are in mid-August, facing the end of another great summer (I can hear LO screaming, “But I haven’t even had my birthday yet! Summer is not over!”). Nib, I’m sorry we didn’t get to cross “See Halimton” off the bucket list… but you were introduced to the formidable Lindsay Lohan when we watched The Parent Trap so I’d call this summer a success!


In exactly three weeks (after LO’s big double digit birthday), all three of you will get on the SAME exact school bus and go to the SAME exact school for the first and last time ever. All three of you under one roof for the entire 2016-17 school year. I can’t wait. NO WRESTLE BABY IN THE HALLWAYS, you guys.

Let’s do big things this year. Let’s try new tricks on the playground and invite new friends to join us. Let’s learn new math facts and help Mom understand them, too. Let’s read all of the books! Let’s be kind and brave. Let’s work hard on the sports’ fields and let’s also be great on the sidelines. Let’s stand up for ourselves and for others. Let’s know when to sit still and when to stand up. Let’s use our voices when we need to speak and stay quiet when we need to listen. Let’s keep our hands to ourselves but share all the other good parts of ourselves. Let’s use our brains and our hearts equally. Let’s create art. Let’s talk to each other and connect and share and most importantly, let’s love.

It’s gonna be a great year.

Love you the most,



Spin Cycle


This post has nothing to do with kids or parenting. It’s about something that I actually find much more tedious and difficult… exercise. 


My experience with Spin all started a few years ago when a (now close) friend started mentioning the “Tabata” spin classes she was loving. She is a crazy workoutaholic so I always made tons of fun of her for all of her various gym programs/group classes and also because who the hell ever heard of Tabata?

I was familiar with the spin craze of course; living in NYC in the early ‘aughts (you know that means the years between 2000-2010, right? Did I sound smart for using that term?), you couldn’t avoid the spin hype. The studios were as ubiquitous as Seattle-based coffee cafes. (Just guess which type of business I frequented more often.)

SoulCycle, Flywheel, and other indoor cycling studios (who all seemed to follow the “aspirational-word + bike-related word” naming formula), were popping up all over the city… but it was not something I was ever tempted to try. Mostly because there is NO exercise that I am ever tempted to try.

After we moved to the suburbs and my kids were in preschool, I met the aforementioned workoutaholic friend and after many months of my mocking her “Tabata habit” and of her encouraging me to try spinning, I FINALLY agreed to take my first class at a local studio called JoyRide.

The very next day, my friend sent me a two-page email explaining all the lingo, positions, bike set-up info, etc. and I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into.

But I went anyway.

By the end of the class, my feet were numb, my whole lady-parts region hurt like holy hell, I couldn’t breath and I had almost thrown up six separate times. I was so far out of my comfort zone that the time had changed. And I loved it.

Well, I loved that I had done it. Like most of my experience with exercise, I loved it when it was over.

So why is spinning better than other forms of torture, like say, running, or Pilates? Well, first of all, it’s dark. Dark is good. Dark means I can’t see anyone, no one can see me and most importantly, I can’t see myself in the giant mirror at the front of the room. And second, the music is loud. Loud is good because it’s distracting and because no one can hear me gasping for breath. I think. I hope.

I got addicted to spinning, started going 4-5 times a week and thought, “Check me out, I’m an exerciser!”

And despite the fact that after about a year and a half, I got burnt out and took a few (ahem, eight) months off, I’m back now with a more balanced schedule and still love/hate going.

Let me walk you through MY experience of a spin class. It actually starts long before the class itself.

Sunday: The schedule becomes available for booking. I usually ignore the email knowing that if I wait long enough, many classes will fill up.

Side note: My IDEAL situation is when I get put on a wait list for a class, but never make it in. I feel like that totally counts as taking the class because it’s not my fault I didn’t get in. It’s best case scenario. (Worst case: you get the email shortly before the class starts saying, “Great news! You’ve made it off the wait list!” I hate that… my mind has already scheduled something else for that hour, usually involving baked goods and then I have to either bail and feel guilty or actually go and feel like I’m dying. Tough choice.)

Sunday/Monday: I sign up for 2-3 classes (and I actually show up for about half of them).

48 hours before the class: I start to dread it. I think of EVERY excuse in the book to try to avoid it – what if the school nurse is trying to reach me… all of my workout clothes are dirty… I should probably spend some time deleting junk mail… the potential excuse list goes on and on. Oh and if someone should just happen to invite me to have coffee at that time, I take it as a sign from God that I was just not meant to spin that day. Can’t argue with God.

Needless to say, it takes everything I’ve got to get myself there.

But sometimes I go.

I arrive at the studio, wearing yoga pants and a loose shirt. Because that’s what I wear to do ANY kind of workout. And I don’t even do yoga. I am usually the only person in the studio not wearing tight everything but tight’s not how I roll, so I’m good. The first few times I went, I was a little nervous that my wide leg yoga pants would get stuck in the bike wheel, causing me to jam my knee, fall off the bike, hit my head and end up with a concussion. But then I realized that THAT would be the PERFECT excuse to skip exercising for a while, so now I kind of always hope that happens.

As I wait for my class to begin, I feel extremely jealous of the sweaty people walking out from the previous class because they are done with the torture for the day and I’ve yet to begin. As I watch them leave, I get the vibe that most of them are even heading to Starbucks, so then I kind of hate them, too.

I change into my spin shoes, which I purchased because someone assured me that the classes would actually be much easier if I wore the specially-designed clip shoes. EASIER THAN WHAT? Walking through fire? You know what would REALLY be easier? NOT GOING TO SPIN CLASS.

OK, sorry.

So I’ve got my special shoes on, my water bottle is full, my yoga pant bottoms are flapping and I grab a towel, which would need to be beach-size to adequately contain the amount of sweat it’s about to absorb.

Time to head into the studio and find my bike.

Now, let me tell you a little bit about bike selection. Here are my criteria for the perfect bike:

  • Be as far away from the instructor as possible.
  • Be within the direct path of the breeze from one of the big oscillating fans. If I’m NOT feeling that breeze, then I AM passing out. It’s that simple.
  • Be 100% unable to see myself in the giant wall mirror behind the instructor. On those rare moments when they turn the lights up a little bit, I do NOT want to be catching glimpses of myself sweating profusely and gasping for breath.

So I find my bike, adjust the seat for minimum pain infliction and climb on.

The instructor… wait. This is probably the right time to mention that the instructors for the classes I usually take also happen to be good friends of mine. Meaning, in real life, I love them. But in that room, I sort of hate them. This is nothing that I don’t say to their faces, so we’re cool.

So the friend instructor starts with a “warm-up” song which usually lasts like 18 minutes and includes ALL the spin moves like first position and loops and jumps and second and figure 8s and core and third and hills and sprints and … I want to die.

Then she says something annoying like, “OK awesome! Now we’re all warmed up and ready to start, right?!?” and the class whoops and hollers and cheers and I really WANT to yell, “WARM-UP? Are you effing kidding me?” but I can’t catch my breath enough to say anything.

Then the class “officially” starts (whatever) and well, torture and hell and yada, yada, yada. AND it gets even hellier when I realize that I’m apparently the only one that is suppressing anger and hatred towards my friend instructor.

Every one else is “WooHoo”ing as if someone just brought in a pitcher of Margaritas. (For the record, that NEVER happens. Nobody EVER brings a pitcher of Margaritas into the spin room. Would that be so hard Spin management? Rocks/salt. Just saying.)

If people could hear all the thoughts in my head during the class, I probably wouldn’t be allowed back. Hell, I might be arrested. It’s not unusual for me to think such things as, “I wish one of these bikes would spontaneously combust and catch on fire so we would have to evacuate.”


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Here’s some insight into what goes on in my brain during that 50 minutes:

Friend Instructor says: How you guys doing out there!
Everyone else: WOOHOO! Awesome!
Me: Like I’m going to DIE, thanks for asking. (In my head. Can’t breathe.)

Friend Instructor: You guys look AMAZING!
Everyone else: WOOHOO!
Me: That’s an enormous lie. (In my head. Dying.)

Friend Instructor: Let’s get on the beat now… 1-2, 1-2, 1-2!
Everyone else: WOOHOO!
Me: On the beat? Are you kidding? F-U, F-U, F-U! (In my hea… you get it.)

I just don’t understand why everyone is so HAPPY in there? Why are they CHEERING? How can they BREATHE??

So after what feels like four hours, friend instructor announces “You’re done! You guys did it! Amazing job!”

But guess what… it’s another LIE.

Because then she says, “So pick up your weights… we’re going to do some quick arms. Get your elbows up and lift, lift, lift…” At this point, the friend instructor gets off the bike to demonstrate the arm workout in the front of the class.

Basically, she does various shoulder, bicep and tricep arm exercises with zero pauses for about six minutes, or 6,429 reps whichever comes first. My shoulders start to vibrate and ache about five reps in so you can see how THIS is going down.

I power through as many as I can (eight) and then I do what I’m sure everyone else is doing… I wait until the friend instructor looks the other way and then I rest. I’m SURE she has no idea that I’m doing about 1/3 of the reps she’s doing! HAHA!*

*My instructor friends have assured me that they do, in fact, know that I’m doing about 1/3 of the reps that they’re doing. That’s annoying.

At some point, the torture ends.

WITHOUT A DOUBT, MY FAVORITE PART OF ANY DAY THAT I SPIN IS THAT MOMENT WHEN THE FRIEND INSTRUCTOR SAYS, “YOU DID IT! YOU’RE DONE.” It’s like I’ve been released from a prison where everyone except me is bummed to be leaving. So weird.

Approximately five minutes after I leave, I start to feel awesome and healthy and happy. So I sign up again… and start to dread it immediately. And then I love it.

The cycle continues (pun very much intended).

Ride on, people. But you don’t have to be so freaking happy about it.

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Come on now. 



*I feel compelled to add, for my local friends, that this post (obviously) exaggerates the truth except the part about how much I hate exercise and the parts where I describe how I feel like I’m dying during class and how happy I feel when it’s over and… so OK, maybe there is a lot of truth here. But in reality, JoyRide is an amazing place. The owners have created a warm, welcoming environment and the instructors are nothing short of supportive, motivating and inspiring… which I do appreciate when I’m not too busy trying not to die. 🙂


It Can Be Both


Being a Mom is hard.

Because of the whole, you know…

labor pains

sleepless nights

poop explosions


ear infections


“I do it myself!”

potty training



“She started it!”

3 am vomiting

“What’s for dinner?”




“Mooooom, I neeeeeeed you!”


“What does God look like?”

tags and seams

“Ewwww… I hate [whatever you made for dinner]!”

mean girls

“Where’s my uniform/library book/other shoe/snack?”

sleepless nights

ER visits


“I need it by tomorrow.”

pink eye


“Can’t you just do it?”


“He took my toy/cookie/shirt/diary!”

driving lessons

“You’re the meanest Mom, EVER!”

The Talk

“Mom, I have to tell you something…”


peer pressure

“I didn’t make the team.”


just say NO

sleepless nights

“I need you.”

“I don’t need you.”

college tours



The list goes on and on… and of course it doesn’t end when they leave for college.

The kids change. The worries change with them.

Kids & worries are shape shifters.

Everything looks different over time but the basic concerns are ALWAYS some form of “Am I doing this right?” and/or “Will they be OK?”

It doesn’t seem like too much to ask for them to just be OK. But it’s huge. So we worry. And it’s exhausting.

Being a Mom is hard.

But then.

Then you have one of those moments – moments – when you’re just looking at your kid – maybe he is sleeping peacefully with his little butt in the air or maybe is stepping on a school bus for the first time or he’s helping his brother read or she is shining on a stage or she’s holding up a worm she “caught” or he’s flying around the bases in his first Little League game or she’s crying because her best friend doesn’t want to be her best friend anymore or he’s saying “I love ya, Ma,” or it could be that he is simply eating a bowl of cereal (for dinner. because, well, you know… cooking is also hard and exhausting) – and your breath catches because in that moment, WOW this kid is so beautiful and special!

How did it happen? How did I get so lucky?

And you realize that you have no idea if you’re doing it right, but so far, they’re OK so you must be doing SOMETHING right. Yay you!

So yeah, being a Mom is hard. And yeah, we’re so lucky to have the job.

It’s hard. And we’re lucky.

It’s both. It can be both.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of the exhausted, lucky Moms out there. 


Here are some of my moments, some that made me feel exhausted and some that made me feel lucky…














Mexican Adventure 2016


Now that we’re home, I really loved this trip.

While we were there, it was kind of a different story.

It all started when my sister Lori decided, fairly last-minute, to bag her previously planned Spring Break trip to Iceland (don’t ask me) and we decided to take our combined five kids – ages 5, 7, 9, 11 and 12 – somewhere together.

We had a few requirements: a relatively short flight and the option to do more than just sit by the pool or beach. So after a lot of discussion, we decided on Mexico. It’s an easy flight to Cancun and there seemed to be many opportunities to explore the local sites as well as many kid-friendly resorts.

Well. Let me tell you something about kid-friendly resorts in Mexico during April. They’re all booked already.

But we persevered. And we Googled. We toggled between hotel websites, Expedia and every other one of those travel-related sites, checking ratings and availability until we finally found something that looked great fine ok like the kids might enjoy it.

The Sandos Caracol Eco-Resort in Playa del Carmen, Mexico

Go ahead, check it out. I’ll give you a minute.

Looks pretty nice, right? THAT’S WHAT WE THOUGHT.

We decided that we basically needed someplace for each kid to sleep (bed, cot, bathtub, whatever) AND some kind of common area in which Lori and I could drink after the kids went to sleep.

Perhaps when we called the resort and no one answered the phone, we should have given up, but we’re not that smart quitters. So we booked two rooms online and then, in the comments box, wrote something like:


THREE DAYS LATER, a hotel rep called Lori and recommended that we book one junior suite with an adjoining room to get us everything we needed. DONE AND DONE.

Confirmation number received, flights booked… kids, we’re going to Mexico!

Leading up to the trip, I must have told 20 people the same thing: we have very low expectations and I’m sure it will be fine.

My criteria were few:

  1. No bedbugs.
  2. Clean, adjoining rooms so we could hang out at night.
  3. A fun, kid-friendly pool.
  4. No bedbugs.

So Monday morning, we all piled into my minivan and I made Lori drive us to the airport because I have a phobia of driving to New York airports and shut up I think the Van Wyck is scary whatever.


The Nib can barely contain his enthusiasm.

Lori dropped us off curbside with our luggage and left to park the car. After about 10 minutes, she texted me: Do you have the car key?

SHIT. I had the key in my bag (the minivan is one of those annoying cars that doesn’t actually require the key be in the ignition, the key just has to be around the car) and now I was envisioning the minivan just shutting down in the middle of that crazy JFK airport traffic, leaving her stranded so that me and the five kids and all of the luggage would have to find her and probably get mowed down by an Uber and…

Another text “It’s OK, I’m already parked… I just wanted to make sure I should lock it.”

PHEW. (Did it occur to us that the key thing was a bad omen? No. But maybe it should have.)

Travel was uneventful… Xanax and JetBlue TVs have changed flying for me forever. I intend to plan ALL of my vacations based on destinations to which JetBlue offers direct service and my Xanax refill schedule. Cleveland, here I come! And I might be high depending on how turbulent the flight was!


The Nib’s a fan of JetBlue, too.

We landed in Mexico, retrieved our luggage and headed to Immigration. WOW, those lines were long. Long enough for the kids to play at least ten rounds of “20 Questions” and for me to sweat out all of the water I drank during the prior two weeks. Let the sweating begin!

We finally made it up to the counter only to find out that I screwed up our forms… we don’t have to go into too much detail here… bygones.

We found our driver fairly easily and got into his nice air-conditioned van. *Please note: this is the last time we will be cool until our return trip to the airport.

We drove to the resort and as we pulled in, I was relieved to see that it looked… fine! And BONUS, there were actual employees working there!

Lori and I went to check-in, informing the woman that we booked adjoining rooms because we’re traveling with soooo many children and we can’t NOT have space to put them at night and shut the door so we can unwind with margaritas and… well, just margaritas.

Then she said those fateful words: “Could you please wait just a moment? I have to talk to my manager.” When she returned, she told us that the manager would speak to us directly and would we mind stepping down to the end of the counter? We were not feeling so optimistic about adjoining rooms at this point, but we waited patiently and waited some more and then waited a little less patiently. Still sweating.

When the manager FINALLY made his way over to us, the conversation went something like this, although it was much longer, more confusing and infuriating than I can even begin to record here:

Him: Ladies, I have something very embarrassing to tell you. We do not have rooms for you today.
Lori: Adjoining rooms?
Him: No. Any rooms.
Lori: What? How can that be? We have a reservation… here’s the number. I spoke to someone on the phone…
Him: Yes, I know. It’s a mistake but we don’t have any rooms. BUT, we are prepared to offer you an upgrade…

Lori and I both thinking, “Oh, ok good, he’s going to upgrade us to an awesome suite or something… phew.” 

Him: … at our sister hotel downtown, about ten minutes away.

At this point, it’s about 5pm and we have been traveling since 7:00am. The kids are hot, tired and hungry. (Yet, shockingly, being SUCH TROOPERS.)

Me: <frantically trying to Google the sister hotel> We don’t want to go to the sister hotel. We booked THIS hotel because of all the kid-friendly options and the whole eco/nature stuff.
Lori: To clarify, you have OVERBOOKED your hotel and now you’re saying you have NO rooms available for us?
Him: Yes, ma’am, that’s what I’m saying.  But we can offer you an upgrade our sister hotel…
Me: STOP CALLING THAT AN UPGRADE! That’s a Jedi-mind trick and it’s not going to work! (I didn’t really.)
Him: OK, one minute please. He then leaves for about 15 minutes… has a long conversation on the phone in Spanish, returns and says, I’m sorry there’s nothing else I can do except get you two regular rooms, not adjoining, but they won’t be the ones you booked.
Lori: Wait, what? So there ARE rooms available?
Him: Well, they’re not the ones you booked.

More confusing conversation, more confusing conversation… deep breathing, deep breathing…

Me: Do you have two rooms for us at this hotel?
Him: Yes ma’am.
Lori: OK, we’ll take those.

So then we waited another 20+ minutes while he does God knows what and when he returns, he spends a realllllly long time explaining the rates we’re going to get for these rooms… {math, math, math, math, math, math, I zoned out}. Well, that was about all that Lori could take. She had remained very calm up until now but at this point…

Him: Please don’t yell, ma’am.
Him: Fine, ma’am. Yes, that’s what I’m saying.

I’m going to fast forward but suffice to say it was the most frustrating customer service encounter EVER. We were obviously mad that they didn’t have our rooms, but it was SOOOO much more than that. This a-hole was so shifty and condescending and unapologetic and possible dishonest so we finally walked away from that counter with room keys in our hands and steam coming out of our ears.

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This is not either of us, but it’s EXACTLY what we looked like. Except I was sweating way more. 

We were loaded into a golf cart to take us to our rooms. *This golf cart ride was one of the highlights of my kids’ trip. Every time we walked anywhere – which was ALL THE TIME – they asked if we could take a golf cart. You can imagine how that didn’t get annoying at all. 

We arrived at rooms 5312 and 5313 (yup, rooms next to each other) and I’d LOVE to surprise you and say, “You guys… the rooms were AWESOME!” but that would be an enormous lie.

The truth is, the rooms were terrible. So, so depressing. Cold (but not literally), stark, empty boxes filled with nothing but the sadness of all the previous guests. Oh, and two double beds, the corners of which I immediately checked for bedbugs. (None! #blessed)

Lori and I did a lot of, “OK, well, this is fine! Look, our own water coolers! Oh yeah, by the way, nobody drink the tap water! NO, NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT WHEN YOU’RE BRUSHING YOUR TEETH! Don’t worry about why, just don’t! And we’re right next door to each other, so that’s fun!

We changed into dry clothes (because.. SWEAT) and headed to the first restaurant we saw, a Mexican buffet. Lori and I immediately ordered Margaritas (not good… more later). The kids filled plates with foods in various shades of beige and orange – tortillas with cheese sauce, chips with cheese sauce, rolls with cheese sauce. We all laughed about what a long, CRAZY day it had been and assured ourselves that tomorrow would be great! Some of us were faking our optimism.

Tuesday started out pretty well. We ate more buffet food, explored the grounds, swam at various pools, etc. But then, heading back to the room in the afternoon, I started to feel not quite great. I left Lori at the excursion desk and took the kids back to the room with me. We only had to stop once for me to throw up in the bushes, so that wasn’t TOO bad! 😜

I’m going to fast forward through the next two hours because they were and continue to be very traumatic for Lori… I basically fell asleep after excessive vomiting and then the Nib slipped getting out of the shower and hit his head badly. I heard the scream, so I jumped out of bed to sit with him while Lori raced to call for ice.

Nib and I were sitting on the floor – I was vomiting into a garbage can and he was still screaming – when the ice showed up with a doctor who proceeded to press down on the egg-sized lump on the Nib’s head for several minutes and then told us that the Nib needed a head x-ray. We opted not to believe him and the Nib was totally fine 20 minutes later. I went back to vomiting and Lori took all five kids to another effing tasteless buffet. End of Tuesday.

Things improved after that. I’m not going to give you the minute-by-minute blow-by-blow for the whole trip, but after a very rocky start, things did get better. (Not the rooms though – they were completely joyless the entire time we were there.)

As I started writing this all down this morning, I realized that there are really two ways of looking at the majority of the trip: “Through the Facebook Lens” or “How It Was in Reality.”

So to give you some ideas…

Facebook Lens: The kids were AWESOME – well-behaved, patient, good-natured, agreeable and happy.


Reality: Have you met my kids? No, I’m kidding. The kids were MOSTLY awesome. But HD constantly complained about the blister on his foot and refused to wear shoes. The Nib turned everything into a winning game and LO experienced her usual highs and lows.

LO is funny. And awesome. But funny. For example, her “highs”… we would see a bird – a fairly ordinary bird – on the way to breakfast and she’d jump up and down and be all, THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER! THIS IS MY FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD! THE BIRDS HERE ARE SO COOL! AND ALSO THE TREES AND THE OTHER NATURE! I LOVE IT SOOO MUCH! And then I’d tell her that we wouldn’t actually be able to fit in a two-day deep sea fishing excursion and her spirits would be dashed. And she’d be sad right up until we saw the next creature…

We’re all still laughing about the fact that on the SIXTH and FINAL day there, we were walking across this little bridge to go to breakfast… just like we did everyday. And LO stops to look at the river… just like she did everyday. And she yells, “LOOK! TURTLES!” just like she did EVERY. OTHER. DAY. And I’m all, “Seriously? You are STILL excited about seeing those same little f***ers that have been here every single morning?” And the answer is yes, yes she was. It’s all part of her exuberant charm.

But this is the same girl who made a serious enemy out of a life jacket on a river tour and simply could NOT enjoy the experience. So… that’d be a “low.”

My nieces are older, easier and delightful, but even they had one or two moments of their own. (For the record, that was way fewer “moments” than I had.)

*Side note: Our most important items in terms of packing went like this:

1. Passports
2. Band-Aids

Between blisters, cuts and many over-scratched mosquito bites, the kids went through more Band-Aids than they did chips and cheese sauce. And that’s saying something.

Facebook Lens: The Eco/Nature angle of this resort was amazing! The reusable cups, the nature trails, the exotic animals… awesome!


Hiking to the pool


Resting in the shade. Still hot.


Wobbly bridge!


Giant reptiles EVERYWHERE!



Reality: The grounds and trails and animals were indeed VERY cool and the resort’s eco-mission is admirable. BUT I was slightly concerned that the “reusable cups” weren’t really being cleaned, the exotic animals were places where actual FOOD was being served, we got lost more than once on all the trails and we saw a snake. Also, I missed straws.


At dusk, these guys came out and were ALL OVER this place where people eat. I guess they are big fans of the chips and cheese sauce.

Facebook Lens: We went to this very cool place called Xcarat and explored cavernous underground rivers, relaxed in hammocks, swam in our seemingly-own private lagoon, climbed on Mayan ruins, saw a ton of cool wildlife and the older kids stayed for the nighttime “Mexican Spectacular” show.







Reality: Xcarat WAS very cool but it took a LOT of work to figure out all of the logistics and the day was not particularly relaxing. (Imagine showing up at Six Flags one day with five kids of varying ages and interests without having any idea what was there or how to navigate the place… it was like that).


We did explore cavernous underground rivers, which were awesome. Unfortunately, I had to focus as much on LO’s battle with her life vest as I did on our thousand-year old surroundings.


This was taken right before her life jacket started to quietly plot her demise.

The lagoon thing really happened (Lori and I did actually relax for those seven minutes), as did the ruins and wildlife.

And the show? Well, I wasn’t there but I heard it was interesting. There was a lot of dancing depicting Mexican history but with very little explanation. Spectacular… ly confusing?


Facebook Lens: We went to downtown Playa del Carmen one night and had dinner “off campus.” Strolled along the main pedestrian shopping street and had a great meal.

Reality: All true. Plus, the Nib got an extra bonus burger at dinner and I found a Starbucks, which made me happier than it should have. #uglyamerican



“See ya later, Moms… we’re going to tour with the Dead!”


*Oh and this crazy thing happened… we were sitting outside while the kids had ice cream when the Nib told me he had to pee. I sent him across the street, back to the restaurant we had just left to use their bathroom. After he disappeared, it occurred to me, WE’RE IN MEXICO. I barely let the kid pee by himself at the Little Barn and yet, I just sent him off to a strange bathroom in a foreign country. Isn’t that just crazy? #MotheroftheYear

Facebook Lens: All-inclusive means unlimited frozen beverages and delicious international food buffets!


Reality: ALL of the drinks tasted like they were made with a heaping dose of saccharine or some other type of artificial sweetener and if you think it’s impossible to make absolutely flavorless tortilla chips and cheese sauce, you’re very wrong.


She was a big fan of the Sweet-n-Low Daiquiri

Facebook Lens: The pools were very kid-friendly (think water balloon fights and hamster balls!), there was an “AquaPark” with water slides for kids of all ages, and the beaches were BEAUTIFUL.



The Nib can find a “winning game” wherever we go.


Reality: The pools were very kid-friendly (think COMPETITIVE water balloon fights in a PACKED pool with babies and old people) and the AquaPark was fine, but it did play a non-stop stream of the same five Disney show-tunes or oddly monotonous techno music. And there was potato salad out at the buffet ALL. DAY.


Notice several people IN PAIN behind them after being pegged in the head with a four lb. water balloon. Good times!

The beach LOOKED beautiful but the turquoise water masked a sharp, rocky, underwater terrain making it virtually impossible to frolic in the waves. (The girls tried anyway… see above regarding Band-Aids.)


Gorgeous! But what lies beneath… 

Facebook Lens: Tropical!
Reality: So effing hot.

Facebook Lens: It was awesome!
Reality: It was awesome. For the kids. And Lori and I survived it. And now we’re laughing. Sort of.

*For anyone who doesn’t know me that well and read this thinking, “Wow, she got to take her kids to a fun resort in Mexico and all she’s doing is complaining about a lot of stupid shit… what a spoiled effing biatch,” you should know this: I totally get that any kind of Mexican vacation is a luxury and I know how lucky we are to have been able to do this and I’m mostly joking. But I really am spoiled, so that’s why I’m not 100% joking.

Coming Down the Mountain


Hello! It’s me… I’m just wondering if after all these years, you’d like to… read. A blog post.

How ARE you? It has been so long. Happy New Year, by the way. Nope, I didn’t make resolutions this year so THAT’S been one less thing at which to fail.

How were the holidays? And yes, I AM including Martin Luther King, Jr.’s birthday in there, because we did something super fun for the long weekend this year. I mean, aside from an in-depth family discussion about civil rights and Dr. King’s historical contributions.

Me: Nib, do you know anything about Martin Luther King, Jr.?
Nib: Yeah, he was a guy who made people stop doing stuff separately and wanted people to do everything together.
Me: Um, OK, that’s a good start.

We also went skiing in Vermont.

And by “we,” I mean, “not me.”

I do not ski. Despite living in Colorado for a few years. Despite having four siblings who enjoy (to different degrees) sliding down mountains on slippery boards of various sizes. Despite being a very partial owner of a ski house in Vermont, I still don’t ski.

tried to ski. In my memory, the story goes like this:

It was FREEZING the day my sister, Lori, took my Dad and I skiing for the first time. I fell a million times and everything hurt. After minimal instruction, she brought us up a chair lift, which almost killed us, and then on a double black diamond trail. My Dad made a few surprisingly controlled turns before propelling down the mountain in a straight line, quickly gaining speed while heading for trees. The whole time, he was screaming, “I am out of control! I am out of control!” My sister chased after him leaving me stranded and alone on top of a scary mountain without the knowledge or skill required to get down. I MAY have taken my skis off and walked most of the way. Frostbite ensued.

In reality, the story goes like this:

It was beautiful, sunny the day my sister, Lori, took my Dad and I skiing the first time. We spent a good portion of the first day going up that little moving ramp with all the preschoolers and coming down the bunny hill veeeeerrrrrrrrrrrry slooooooooowly. I couldn’t possibly have fallen because I was barely moving. If I WAS on the ground it was because I had slowly lowered myself there to avoid acceleration of any type.

After many, many hours practicing, my sister (half-dead from boredom) decided we were ready for a real trail. She brought us up on a chair lift (which I think really did almost kill us but I’m pretty sure that’s a rite of passage for first timers) and to the designated trail.*

*Now, it’s worth noting that in reality, the degree of difficulty of the trail remains debated to this day. While I doubt it was truly a double black diamond, it was definitely above our skill level. Although to my sister’s defense, any real mountain trail was probably above our skill level. Surprisingly, Dad and I were not naturals. This came as quite the shock to us, given our God-granted athletic prowess.

I remember standing at the top of the trail looking down – and I really was by myself because the part about my Dad careening off and my sister chasing after him really is true – thinking how the hell am I going to get down this thing?

It looked something like this:


And that’s all I remember. Probably because there was so much pain involved in the descent, I blocked it out. I obviously made it down eventually but I can guarantee it wasn’t easy or pretty. And nothing about it made me ever want to ski again.

(Oh and I also tried snowboarding once. Once. And that’s all we need to say about that.)

So, I don’t ski. But as previously mentioned, the majority of my family members do, so it didn’t come as a surprise when the Loud One, after hearing her cousins all talk about their various mountain adventures, wanted to give it a try.

We signed her up for ski school a few years back putting aside our doubts that she would even get the ski boots on her feet, never mind enjoy the sport. (Keep in mind, this was the girl who at the time, wouldn’t even put on basic clothing if it wasn’t super soft, seamless and stretched to the point that hardly any of it touched her body. Ski gear seemed impossible.) But she did it. And she loved it.

Lori and my brother-in-law, Scott, have generously brought her to Vermont a couple of times each winter since then. And now she’s a skier.

Last weekend, our whole family went up to Vermont for the first time in two years. We dropped all three kids at ski school for full day instruction and enthusiastically began our own busy day. Agenda: Leisurely breakfast and coffee, nap, read, more coffee, more leisure, more napping, more reading. I love skiing!

Lori and Scott brought the Loud One and the Nibbit back out after their instruction was over (for, as the Nib called it, “free ski”) and when they were done for the day, they showed me a video of my kids on the mountain.

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Well. I MAY have cried a little bit.

There was my Loud One, easily and dare I say, gracefully, making turns, gliding down what looked to me like a crazy steep hill! And the Nibbit picking up as much speed as he could get away with, stopping with his “pizza wedge,” waving at the camera, loving every minute.

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It felt strange watching that video… I saw that my kids were participating in a world that is so foreign to me. They were learning how to explore mountain tops, travel at high speeds and navigate obstacles. They were learning how to do something and more importantly, how to love something, that had absolutely nothing to do with us, their parents.

They’ll go on to do many things without us, of course… sports, travel, college (although can’t you totally see KJ as the old Dad playing beer pong in the fraternity basement?) but I will always remember watching the ski videos and thinking, “Woah! How the hell did they learn to do that??”

I credit Aunt Lori and Uncle Scott for introducing them to this world – both by convincing me that I should let them try it despite my protests that “… we’re just not a skiing family” and also by literally taking them to the mountain – and I’m so grateful.

When I picked them up from their lessons after the second day, they both reported in about their experience…

The Loud One said, “Mom, it is SO beautiful at the top of the mountain! You should see it… the snow, the trees… it’s so peaceful and amazing.”

And the Nib said, “I was the first in my group to make it down so I won.”

And that just about sums up my skiers perfectly.

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Gratitude Lite 2015


OK, so let’s just get this out of the way. True, you haven’t heard from me since – wait, let me go check the date of my last post – woah, August 28th? That’s a crazy long time ago. And it was a Back-to-School post? Yikes.

So here are my excuses, in no particular order:

1. I’m lazy.

It’s true. I’m so lazy that I’ve stopped working out entirely despite the fact that workouts are the hot water cooler topics where I live. I bump into friends at the grocery store and I’m all, “Did you see Homeland?” and they’re all, “No, I was working out.” And I’m all, “But it’s on Sundays at 9:00pm?” and they’re all “Yeah… and?” And I’m all, “But you can watch it whenever On Demand!” and they’re all “Yeah, I’m ALWAYS working out.”

There’s spinning of course and CrossFit, but there’s like a whole language of workouts out there that I don’t speak: terms like, SUP and CST 50 and Barre and Corelates and Deep Water Running (WTF? Do people have gills now?)… the list goes on and on and on…

I actually have several close friends whose work clothes are ACTUALLY workout clothes. As in, fitness is their career. Do you know what it’s like to be friends with people who WORK OUT for a living? It sucks. Because they’re all like, “I taught four cardio classes today, but then I took it easy and only did Pilates in my spare time.” And I’m all, “I ate ALL of the Cadbury Eggs.”


Moving on.


OK, so it turns out the laziness is really the only reason I haven’t posted since August. I would love to say that things have been SO crazy for the past few months and I simply haven’t had the time… but that would be a lie.

I could tell you that my kids are just really normal and boring now, so I don’t have any material but that whopper would get me immediately struck by lightning.

So lazy, it is.

But today is a new day! I’m motivated by the hints of holidays in the air and the crazy-ass long lines at the grocery store where EVERY single person was buying French’s fried onions.

I thought I would carry on a timeless (OK, three-year old) WNAN? tradition and fill you in on some of the things I’m thankful for this year. Aside from the obvious – family, friends, Starbucks – these are the things bringing me joy these days.

1. Acupuncture.

Wait. Can I count this as a workout? It’s good for my health, improves circulation AND I feel great when I walk out of the gym office. IT COUNTS!

2a. Books. And to be more specific, Barnes & Noble.

Look, I know it’s more PC to shop Mom & Pop and more environmentally- (and budget-) friendly to go to the library but I’m sorry, I love B&N. Here are all the things I like to do at B&N (sub-list alert!):

  • Touch all the covers and imagine what cover texture I would choose if I wrote a book… Glossy? Matte? Metallic?
  • Read the inside flaps
  • Look at all the journals and pens and mini book lights
  • Read all the magazines
  • Starbucks. Duh.
  • Take pictures of the books that I want to buy for my Kindle. (Shhh!)
  • Kids’ section (sub-sub-list alert):
    • Sit on the stage and perform The Day the Crayons Quit (except that we like to change the words and call it The Day the Crayons Bit. It’s just a little thing we do. People love it. Well, the Nib loves it.).
    • Pick out all the age-inappropriate books that I want to read under the guise of “they’re for my daughter.”
    • Skim some of the “Who Was [insert historical figure]?” Kate Boehm Jerome books to improve my knowledge of history.
  • Flip through all of the Adult Coloring books before reminding myself that I already have so many. #EmbarrassedNotEmbarrassed

And last, but not least…


2b. Reading.

You’d think this would be the same as “Books,” but you’d be wrong. Because I don’t actually read all of the books. I read MOST of the books but some don’t look as good when I get home so they get stacked in the “To Be Read [but probably not really]” pile. Which is very different than the “To Be Read [soon!]” pile and the “To Be Read [but not urgently]” pile.

And it’s not just books… it’s magazines, parenting blogs, the odd news article, and of course, HuffPost Good News.

I love reading. Most of my procrastination happens so that I can read. Why would I write when so many other people have already written so much good stuff?

3. Whole Foods Breakfast Bars

These came into my life when I really needed them and have filled a previously enormous breakfast void. That’s all I’ll say about that.

4. All things Star Wars…

… specifically the Lego sets that keep HD busy for hours on end and these Star Wars light saber lollipops, which I put in my 5-year old’s birthday goody bag. TOTALLY appropriate.


5. Jimmy Fallon, Bloodline and Adele’s new album

6. LO’s music teachers

… for tirelessly working with large groups of nine-year olds singing, playing their recorders and new this year, various stringed instruments. After listening to just one of these musicians practice and rehearse at home, I can’t possibly begin to imagine the JOY of listening to 40-75 of them at the same time. Bless you, Music Teachers.

7. Our troops and homeland security people.

Listen, the world is bat shit crazy right now and I’m often freaking out about it. I had the following text exchange with a trusted advisor the other day:


I’m already a fairly anxious person who’s ALWAYS expecting bad news on the other end of the phone (which is why I don’t answer… just TEXT me, people) so the fact that we’re on the brink of World War III is terrifying.

But then I just remind myself that there are a LOT of people who are SOOOO much smarter and SOOOO much braver than I am doing a boatload of work to keep our country safe. I’m VERY grateful.


I know it goes without saying, but I’m not really one to “go without saying” anything, so I’d like to add that I’m ALWAYS extremely grateful for my family and friends and the many, many blessings we’ve been given.


And for anybody who’s missing a loved one this year, take a minute tomorrow morning to think of your best, funniest, happiest memories with him or her and smile. And then, do that everyday. It helps.

Happy Thanksgiving! I hope your holiday is warm and delicious and full of laughter and love and carbs. #StretchyPantsForever #ButNOTWorkoutPants


PS. My friend, Smitty and I have decided to launch our new gym. Check out this week’s marketing promotion:

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