Suncadia with the Kids

Our foyer was a bustle of activity. Pillow cases stuffed with clothes, hairbrushes, and a few miscellaneous toys landed with a thud in front of the door as each child hurriedly tossed 24 hours worth of belongings from the top of the stairs.

"I can't find my other shoe!"

"Did everyone use the bathroom?"

"How long will it take to get there?"

It was amid the chaos of heading out the door on day three of our vacation that I found Halle in the kitchen. She was standing in front of the refrigerator, nervously searching the floor.

"Mom, my hamster wanted to get out and play and I WAS watching her, but she ran under the refrigerator."

Guilt, worry, and defensiveness were clearly raging a fierce battle within my six-year-old; it appeared to be working out to a three-way tie.

"SHE wanted to get out and play!"

Okay, maybe defensiveness had a slight lead.

During the next 15 minutes everyone took turns announcing a better plan to catch Madelyn, the-world's-chubbiest-hamster.

She scurried under the refrigerator.
Up the back of the refrigerator.
Across the top of the refrigerator.
And down the back again.

This went on for some time until finally she could resist the strategically placed dried corn no longer.

What is it with our zoo whenever we're trying to head out on a road trip?

With the hamster back in her cage, we finally hit the road, this time headed east, across Snoqualmie Pass.

Although Wes and I get away to Suncadia a few times a year, we haven't taken the kids with us since before Lyla was born. We knew they would have a blast pool-side, racing back and forth between the two giant water slides.

We also took time that afternoon to hike down to a swimming hole along the Swiftwater River.

Wes kept a close eye on the kids to keep them safely with him in the eddy. It's not called the Swiftwater for nothing. I've never seen a river barrel along so fast.

We ended the day sometime around 11 pm on the balcony, all eyes fixed to the north and west, watching, waiting for another lightening streak to dramatically cut through the black expanse.

Hushed voices and stillness created a sharp contrast to how our morning had begun. It was one of those little moments when I want to freeze time, when my heart is full, and I can't take it all in fast enough. Gathered there all together, the kids quietly asking what makes thunder, talking about Ben Franklin, and wondering why those people were standing out there in the middle of the golf course, I was filled with gratitude for my family and every minute I get to spend with them.

"Whoa! Did you see that one?!"

"Yah, I think it's getting closer."

"You know it's getting kind of late. Maybe we should head to bed."

"Awwww...one more? We'll all go to bed after one more good lightning streak."

This conversation repeated itself several times before we all gave in, eventually falling asleep to the fading rumble of the passing storm.

No Plans

Wes and I stink at making vacation plans. Seeing a long weekend coming up in August, we started tinkering with ideas of what to do with it some time in July. Mostly this would happen too late at night as one or the other of us fell asleep.

Finally we found ourselves on day one of our four-day weekend with no plans. I woke up with dreams of watching my children splash in a shallow swimming hole only a few hundred feet from a quiet lake house in the mountains. The kitchen counter would, of course, be piled high with foods normally forbidden at home- Lucky Charms, Oreos, and Doritos.

Having a family large enough to necessitate two hotel rooms and ridiculous amounts of food has made renting a vacation home with a kitchen a financially sound option for us. So, we spent most of the day clicking around online and making a bajillion phone calls only to confirm the unavailability of any decent, yet affordable, lake house this side of the Mississippi. Turns out most other families make vacation plans in advance. What?

With everything booked, I came up with an alternate list of fun things to do. Go for a hike? Head to the beach? Camp? Maybe take a ferry ride across Puget Sound? Lots of great options.

But somehow by 3 pm that afternoon, yanking out nature's barbed wire (a.k.a. invasive blackberries) made it to the top of the list of "fun" things to do with day one of our vacation.

I'm all for being productive but my forearms look like I got into a cat fight...and lost.

On day two of our vacation, I woke up with determination to get out of Dodge. Just after breakfast Wes and I agreed on a destination and we piled everyone into our Ford Explorer. This is really getting to be a bit of a tight squeeze and sometimes the noise of five loud children crowded into that small space is anything but a vacation. 

But happily the drive out to Whidbey Island was great. Lyla only spent five minutes making us all miserable until she fell fast asleep. Halle conked out about twenty minutes later, leaving the oldest three children to laugh, sing at the top of their lungs, and duck for cover when their Dad pulled up beside an ill-clad teenager, rolled the windows down, and cranked up the rap music. It could only be worse if their mother were raising the roof in the front seat. Wait, that might have happened. Yep, pretty humiliating for the pride under cover in the back seat, but they're good sports. It can't be all that bad to have such rad parents, right? ...Ahem.

We spent the afternoon at Deception Pass where Beau tried fishing in the swirling current.

The kids dipped their toes in the very cold water. Brrrr... Why on earth did we bring swim suits?

We can't go anywhere without adding to our growing rock collection.

Of course, they played in the sand. Apparently Beau dug quite a hole...

Before he got buried in the sand.

When Halle's lips started turning purple and Lyla had gotten enough sand in her eyes, we called it a day and headed for the ferry terminal.

No lake house. No kitchen counter stocked with contraband food. But a great day spent making lasting memories as a family.

Moclips-Part 2

"I miss Beau."

We all said it at one point or another during our two days at the beach. Beau had opted to stay behind with a friend so as not to miss a special end-of-the-school-year field trip. It was not the decision Wes and I were hoping for, but the one we knew he would make just the same. "I love you guys," he reminded us over and over again as we packed everything into the car.

Fortunately Beau and I have a decent texting relationship and despite the crumby phone service we were able to stay pretty well-connected. Still, we were all anxious to see him again on Monday evening.

In the meantime, the mellow strains of Jon and Roy mingled with the sound of crashing waves on the beach, setting the perfect maritime tone for Wes's yummy surf and turf creations.

These clams capped-off a wretchedly chilly but fun afternoon at the beach. Oh, the biting wind!

And there was time in the hot tub, too- until the neighbors started building a new deck.

Then on Sunday afternoon while the little girls napped, I looked up from my book to find this fuzzy blob peering over me-

"No more photos of us, Mom!" they yelled as they ducked behind the couch.

Clearly they were asking for it.

Setting my book aside, I stealthily leaned over the back of the couch and surveyed the veiled mass of giggles. It was going to be hard to wrest the blanket from them with one hand and aim my camera at them with the other.

But I was eventually somewhat successful at both.

And that's how the little girls woke up an hour later.

The next day we headed to the beach one last time, then shook out as much sand as we could and packed everyone back in the car. It was an hour into the drive home when "I have to go to the bathroom" was closely followed by

"Oh no! I left my shoes at the beach!"

Moclips- Part 1

Sophia had been dutifully freezing and crushing leaf lettuce for the last week. The little tadpole in the open container on her windowsill certainly wouldn't die of starvation. She had watched two legs become four and was anxiously awaiting the day when his tail would fall off. Of course, that was when she was planning to use a lid. 

It was in the rush of packing up for our last-minute trip to the beach that I heard the loud yell.

  

"My tadpole is missing!" He's gone and

I can't find him anywhere!"

Her room quickly crowded with bodies large and small as everyone joined in the search. How far could he have gotten? And why did he have to jump in the middle of our hectic push to get on the road?! We were still asking ourselves these questions two hours later as we piled into the car.

It was a typical road trip for our family. Cries of 

"She's doing it on purpose!"

and

"He's looking at me!"

were quickly interrupted by incoming snacks. No one wanted to miss what Mom was tossing from the front seat. M&Ms maybe? Or some other usually forbidden box of preservative-laden crackers? I was in vacation-mode. Hey man, WHATEVER it takes!

When we arrived at the beach house, the kids all but dropped their stuff and ran for the beach.

Where they spent a LONG time

 digging in the sand

 and basking in the sun.

Eventually, when only their silhouettes danced before me in the sinking sun, we headed back inside.

It was not as nice as the beach house we stayed in last time, but it was also a far cry from the nightmare of 2010 when Wes and I had left the kids with a babysitter and hit the road for two days.

A charming historic hotel in downtown Anacordes welcomed us on the first night of our getaway. The concert just outside our second story window was loud enough to drift through the thin walls and tone down the slightly upscale ambiance.

The next day's agenda included boarding a ferry to Port Townsend and meandering south toward Ocean Shores. It was the height of Twilight mania and we gawked as we drove by the mob of teenage girls clambering around the "Welcome to Forks" sign. Two stoplights later, the tiny logging town with its hosts of vampire groupies was behind us.

The beaches in Lapush, however, were well-worth lingering to watch the setting sun glimmering on the ocean. (I wish I could find those photos.)

It was sometime around 11:00 pm when we finished up a mediocre dinner in Ocean Shores and drove over to- what was it called? Oh yes, the Sand Flea Hotel. Or something like that. Wes checked in and we headed to our room. Wary of the characters drooping over the balcony outside our door, we should have turned right around and handed the key back to the manager. But we didn't. We swallowed hard and unlocked the door. It swung open to reveal something out of the 1960s. And NOT the trendy vintage look, either. Cobwebs draped the extra-furry moose head hanging on the wall. The dim lighting merely shrugged at the darkly paneled walls and brown carpet.

It was while listening to the guests in the neighboring room that I checked out the bathroom. Fantastic! Hair in the tub. Wes feigned getting comfortable with the surroundings. If he didn't say it, I saw him think it: "Okay. We can do this. All these other people around us are doing it. It's just one night and this is the last room in town." I raised my eyebrows as he gingerly sat on the edge of the chair beneath the moose.

"Uhhhhh...you're really going to sit down on that?"

I walked over to the bed and pinched as little fabric as possible between my two fingers. Pulling the covers back revealed scattered grains of sand on a pilled, slightly stained sheet.

"Oh, I'm out."

Wes hastily added a "me, too" and we quickly grabbed our bags.

The manager gave Wes an understanding look as he refunded our money and we hit the road again. We drove halfway home that night before stopping at 2 am in a suburb of Olympia.

So the weathered blue beach house this time around was FINE BY ME.

Denver

It was a crowded 737 that brought us home from Denver last Friday; I was seated next to a man I'll call Trench Mouth.
Why? Because trench mouth, or Acute Necrotizing Ulcerative Gingivitis, is a condition far worse than the halitosis that people lightly joke about. The smell emanating from a person with ANUG sets up a perimeter around its host that is several feet thick. And I mean THICK in more than one sense of the word. You've seen cartoons where something like stinky feet or dirty diapers are represented with a wavy cloud of puke-green gas? THICK, I tell you.

I wanted to turn to 10D, to face my husband, but he wasn't there. He was seated in 6E, the only other seat available. Seated next to me in 10D was the woman, who despite my sweetest pleading, had understandably refused to trade places with Wes. She was now asleep, head tilted uncomfortably toward the luggage bins above our heads and her mouth gaping wide open. Her breath was not so pleasant either. Halitosis.

So I defended my innocent olfactory nerve by pulling my long hair forward and discreetly wrapping it in front of my nose.  Leaning closer into my book so that the letters slightly blurred, I knew the resulting headache would be entirely worth it.

It was only 36 hours since Wes and I had arrived in Denver for a quick business trip. By the time we had stepped off the plane on Wednesday night and made our way to our hotel it was 11:30 pm. Too late to call home to say goodnight to the kids and knowing we needed to be up in time for a morning meeting, we went right to bed.

Our kids were all safe at home with a more-than-capable babysitter. I knew my little girls would be spoiled with two full days of tea parties, nail polish, and cupcakes. I had even left a well-stocked pantry and refrigerator- something sure to be appreciated by my oldest three children. Yep. They were all set.

After our Thursday morning meeting, we had only a few hours to skip around Denver.

We walked the 16th Street mall.

View of the capital from 16th Street Mall.

Then we stopped in at the Federal Reserve Bank. Not that it made the top of my list of things to see in Denver, but it was right there on 16th Street. And the coolest part was that each visitor could leave with one bag of approximately $165 of shredded currency. One for Beau. One for Tyjah.

Unfortunately, we didn't find the Molly Brown house on Pennsylvania Avenue until two minutes AFTER closing.

I'm such a sucker for historic landmarks, so I was super sad we didn't get to go inside.

The babysitter texted photos of my little girls having all kinds of fun. A little tug in my heart questioned if my kids even missed me.

That answer came in the form of several texts from my oldest son, Beau.

The answer also came when I called to say goodnight on Thursday. The phone was passed around and when it came to Lyla, there were lots of tears.

"Oh no! What's wrong, Lita Loo?" I asked. "Why are you crying?"

Words spilled out through heart-wrenching sobs. I didn't understand any of them except the last three, which I heard with absolute clarity-

"I want Mama!"

There. She said it. Of course I never wanted my children to be miserable while I was away. I had, after all, hired the best babysitter around. But how nice it was to know I was missed!

The next morning, my kids called me as they were getting ready for school. Five-year-old Halle was the most persistent-

"But are you coming home NOW? After breakfast? Will you be here when I come home from school? WHEN ARE YOU COMING HOME?!"

Sniff. Sniff. My kids did miss me.
And oh how I missed them!

So on Friday morning, I found myself seated several rows back from my husband, sandwiched between Trench Mouth and Halitosis. Two-and-a-half hours of total dependence on my well-shampooed hair, a good book, good memories, and the anticipation of curling up with all my kids to watch The Unsinkable Molly Brown.

This Washington mama is glad to be home!

MIA in Sunny Cabo

Quote of the Day:  “...vicinity to the sea is desirable, because it is easier to do nothing by the sea than anywhere else, and because bathing and basking on the shore cannot be considered an employment but only an apotheosis of loafing. ("Expiation")”
― E.F. Benson, The Collected Ghost Stories of E.F. Benson (quote found on Goodreads)

The Biker Chef, toes in the sand, wind in his hair, time to ponder and relax as endless as the ocean.

 

 We live in Northern Minnesota where Winter starts in October and slowly moves out in April. While we love the feeling of four seasons, delight in the first snowfall, and revel in a white Christmas, about mid-February we're bored and blind from the looking at the all white world. The roads and drive-ways are bumpy with ice and the wind chill is the deciding factor that a body needs a vacation. In comes the Biker Chef with a time share at Pueblo Bonito Sunset Beach in Cabo San Lucas to sweep me off my feet, into the air, and land where the sun shines, the waves lap, and the flowers bloom all year long.

 

 

I love a vacation where the biggest decisions I have to make all day are which pool to set up camp and where to have dinner. I packed my readers, bought a new sun hat, and greedily devoured every delicious word of Blood, Bones, and Butter, a memoir by New York chef Gabrielle Hamilton. Loved it! Shared it with the Biker Chef who also loved it. What a great vacation read, especially when the vacation is all about the food.  More on that on Ride off the Page later. I'll need the Chef's expertise to get all the details and food descriptions. Our tastebuds were not on vacation. They were hard at work, in a delicious way!

 

View of Sunset Beach resort during our walk along the beach.

 

 

The Biker Chef is floating in the sky pool near the swim up bar, chatting with some folks we met from the Fergus Falls, MN area. We met many people from Minnesota, Canada, Seattle, and other Northern regions reveling in a week or so of sun to break up our bleak winters.

 

The view from our deck was gorgeous. Full view of the ocean and the sunrise was a beautiful way to start the day.

 

This was my first trip to Mexico. I found it beautiful and relaxing. Both the locals and other vacationers were friendly. One taxi driver said that he'd been living in Cabo for 49 years and had seen lots of changes. This was once a quiet fishing village. Now, it is a huge tourist attraction and destination for Northerners, staving off the winter blues. The memories, the photos, and sharing them with you are helping to ward off the back home blues. The roads are still icy. The wind is still chill, but Spring is right around the corner and the Biker Chef is gearing up for tapping season. He makes the best maple syrup I've ever tasted. Hope it's a good year!

 

Thanks, Chef, for dragging me off to sunny Cabo. I loved spending that relaxing week with you.

 

Go. Create. Inspire!

 

Journaling Prompt:  Write about a vacation experience, either your best of your worst, or describe an adventure that you'd like to go on.