Road Trips

My family didn’t take many big trips when I was a kid. We spent most summer vacations at North or South Carolina beaches or visiting my grandparents in Virginia.

On the occasion that we went somewhere more exotic -- like Washington, D.C., or New York --  we always drove and we always checked out any colleges that were nearby. But a college visit with my dad didn’t usually involve an official tour or a trip into the admissions office. Instead, we mostly just drove through campus and saw whatever we could see from the car, then we kept going.

These little side trips became known as The Dave Drive-By.

Then the summer after my freshman year in college, my parents, brother and I took our first big family trip on an airplane – we flew to San Francisco, where we rented a big white Lincoln Town Car. I think the trunk on that thing was bigger than my first dorm room. Two weeks -- and four states, three national parks (four if you count Las Vegas), more than a dozen friends and relatives, and at least three colleges/universities -- later, we flew home from Phoenix.

That trip went down in family history as the Official Drive-By of The West. It was kind of a strange trip – I was 19 and used to living away from home, my brother was 15 and probably used to having me away from home. All four of us shared hotel rooms (when we weren’t staying with friends or family) and did pretty much everything together for the whole two weeks. I think back on it and wonder if my parents were crazy or clueless or both.

But I also can’t stop myself from grinning any time I think about that trip. My brother and I cracked endless jokes about the distance between the front seat and the back seat of the land yacht. We met relatives who last remembered seeing us when my brother was in diapers. My all ventured a little out of our comfort zones, saw places that were completely different than anywhere we’d ever been. We listened to a lot of Toad the Wet Sprocket.

More than 20 years later, that trip stands out as a mile-marker in my family history.

So far this year, my husband and I have taken our kids on our own version of The Drive-By in two opposite directions. In January, we drove to Pittsburgh (because who doesn't want to go to Pittsburgh in January?!) to see friends, tour the science center, ride the gondola, drive by the house my parents lived in when I was born, visit the Cathedral of Learning at Pitt, go ice skating outside and see the Penguins play hockey. In February, we drove to Disney World for the first time -- a more traditional kind of kid trip that still had that Drive-By feel as we whizzed through three parks in three days.

I wonder if my kids will remember 2014 as the Year of the Road Trip. Actually, I wonder if they will even remember 2014 at all. I’m pretty sure we were crazy for driving nearly nine hours to Pittsburgh, spending two days there and driving what turned into more than 11 hours back through a snow storm.  Pulling them out of school for two days to drive to Florida and back doesn't exactly seem logical either.

Even still, I find myself wondering how our kids will remember these trips and how their memories will be different from mine. Will Pippi recall the long, boring drive, or only the fact that she got to swim in the hotel pool and order room service for dinner? Will Junius wish we'd flown to Florida, or just laugh when he thinks back to shouting "THAT WAS AWESOME" on his first roller coaster?

And will either of them ever know how lucky they really are? Guess we'll keep planning Drive-Bys to remind them.

First Time

Last Wednesday, my husband and I picked up our kids from school at lunchtime and announced that we were taking them to Disney World for the first time. As in, right now, the car is packed, let’s go make dreams come true, we have three days to live the magic.

We expected their reaction would be something like this:

Children’s mouths drop, we beam at them lovingly. Their eyes light up as they shout, “SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! THAT’S INCREDIBLE! YOU ARE THE BEST PARENTS EVERRRRR!” And then we all melt into a group hug and sing Disney tunes for nine hours in the car.

Instead, it went more like this:

Children’s faces remain blank. They look skeptical and mutter, “I don’t believe you. Are you serious?” We show them the packed car and the magic bands and promise that we are telling the truth. They complain, “But it’s Wednesday. We don’t want to miss P.E.” And we suggest that perhaps three days in Disney is even better than P.E. And then they both say, “Can I play on the iPad in the car?” Twenty minutes down the road they start asking if we are in Florida yet. The only Disney songs we sing are from the Frozen soundtrack on continuous loop.

Hmph. I don’t know what Mr. P is doing in those phys ed classes, but it must be incredible.

The good news is that they got progressively more excited throughout the nine-or-so-hour drive and were totally wound up by the time we checked into our hotel at 10 p.m. Awesome.

Now that we’ve been back home for a few days, I’ve realized that taking your kids to Disney World for the first time is a lot like having your first newborn.

While you’re in the midst of it, you’re completely overwhelmed by the rapid swings between totally amazing and amazingly hard. But once it’s over, you forget all the crying and the exhaustion and that inexplicable sticky mess on your shirt. All you remember are the sweet, fun, photogenic moments and you decide you must do it again because you’ve learned so much from surviving the first one and you want to see if you can do an even better job the second time around.

At least the next time – if our bodies and our bank account can survive a next time – I’ll be expecting a different reaction when we give them the good news. Maybe it will go something like this:

Wow, Mom! That sounds even better than a whole day of P.E.!

Beach 5: Things I Should Have Packed

As my friend Julie at Simplify Your Life will tell you, every mom (or dad) needs a packing list for the beach. Not one that you scribble on post-it notes the night before your trip, but a real organized list that you save and use every year. And if you go back to the same rental house each time, you know what to expect and what you need to bring.

After polling our beach friends, I think the most important thing we could add to the list would be an afternoon chef who would prepare dinner each night and bring it out to the beach for us so that we don't have to go inside until dark. And a waiter, to bring us drinks and fresh juice boxes.

Those two might be awkward (not to mention expensive) to pack -- so here are five more practical things we need to add to the list for next year:

1. Kitchen knives: The knives at our house are terrible. It's a wonder I haven't lost a finger tip just trying to make a straight cut through an apple. Packing a good paring knife and one big cooking knife would make me much happier and wouldn't take up much space in the luggage.
2. Nice pan: For my friend D, it would be her all-clad pans. For me, it's my Scanpan (thanks, Mom!). Whether I'm trying to make grilled cheese sandwiches or a vegetable stir-fry, the crappy, peeling pans at our house are a mess. Again, one pan won't take up much room and would make a more successful dinner.
3. Small table: Okay, so this one might not seem as easy to pack -- but a small folding one should work. And it would be so lovely to have somewhere to set your mai tai when you're on the beach so that your glass doesn't accidentally get knocked over in the sand (the horror!).
4. Clothesline with pins: No, it's not glamorous. But when your wardrobe revolves around three items (a dry swim suit, a wet swim suit and pajamas), you really need to be sure those suits get dry quickly. Hanging things off the rail or the deck chairs will suffice, but it gets to be a mess.
5. Rechargeable batteries: Our digital camera burns through batteries at a breakneck pace when we're at the beach (perhaps because we take literally hundreds of photos). Bringing a charger and batteries would make me feel much more environmentally friendly while I let Pippi wander around taking photos of her feet.

What important items are on your beach packing list each year?

Beach 5 posts:
- Tips for Parents
- Simple Gifts

Beach 5: Simple Gifts

Re-entry is a bitch.

After washingdryingputtingaway five loads of laundry, unloading the dishwasher, unpacking most of four suitcases and countless bags, clearing the answering machine and sifting through a week's worth of junk mail, we're all back to work and school again. But having just spent a blissful six-and-a-half days at the beach, I guess I really shouldn't complain.

In order to pretend that I'm still at the beach, each of this week's posts will include a "Beach 5" list. I figure I didn't post at all last week, so hopefully you can tolerate three posts this week. So here goes...

Being able to enjoy that annual week at the beach with my little family of four is a gift -- possibly one of the greatest gifts of the year. And as if that weren't enough on its own, I count the following among the additional gifts I received last week:

1. Beautiful weather: Hurricane Irene threatened to ruin everything, but ultimately made landfall north and east of our beach. As it turned out, we had perfectly sunny skies for seven straight days and no significant damage left behind. Not sure if we were blessed or lucky or both, but I'll take it.

2. Family photos: This year I took 734 pictures over the course of our beach week (although some of those were Pippi running off with the camera). That's not counting all the photos of us taken by friends or the pictures my husband took on his phone. It sounds excessive, but I love having the time to capture my children (and my husband) in their element. And this year a talented new friend with a fancy camera took some extra photos of us that are just beautiful.

3. Date night: Another friend at the beach voluntarily came over to our house after the kids went to bed so that my husband and I could have a date night. As in, just the two of us on our own all by ourselves at our favorite beach restaurant after dark. As in, hasn't happened in more than six years. What a treat!

4. Play time: Our kids are never happier than when they're at the beach. They get to be free all day, eat fruit snacks and chips non-stop, drink juice boxes until they pee in the ocean, get sandy dirty, run wild with their friends -- and no one tells them to "be quiet sit still don't touch that wipe your face" for most of an entire week. Plus we're the beneficiaries of great friends who have a combined eight children for them to run around with -- and parents who do cool things like fishing, egg tosses, corn hole, beach yoga and sea life pools. It's kid heaven.

5. Time with friends: In you case you hadn't noticed the theme, a big part of what makes our beach week so special is the families who have joined us for six years now. We met by accident, but have remained friends by very conscious choice (and careful planning) -- their friendship is truly a gift. In addition to the fact that they and their children help entertain our children (which is blessing enough), they are kind, funny, intelligent, curious, interesting people who will talk and read and laugh and make mai tais and just plain sit on the beach until dark.

Thank you for these simple, wonderful gifts. Only 354 days until we'll be together again in the sand.


Beach 5 posts:
- Tips for Parents
- Things I Should Have Packed
.

The Weather Is Here, Wish It Were Beautiful

You see that little star, just at the top left of that ugly looking hurricane?

That's my vacation.

I'm trying hard not to complain. With any luck, we'll just miss a day or maybe two and still have a lovely (albeit shortened) week ahead. I should just be grateful that my home and my livelihood aren't bracing in the path of Irene's mess. And after a decade of last August and early September beach trips, I guess we were due for a big storm

But damn it! I still want to have a little temper tantrum and shake my useless fists at the weather map. Grrrrr.

Think I liked it better when the only hurricane I had to worry about was this one.
.

Friday's Five: Worst Things Your Kids Say in the Car

We'll be heading out on our annual beach trip later this month. I'm already counting down the minutes to sand in my toes, salty breeze in my hair and a ProCo shrimp burger in my mouth.

But before we arrive at the beach, we have to survive the car trip. Thankfully we're past the stop-in-the-empty-community-college-parking-lot-to-nurse stage and the frantically-grope-around-the-rear-facing-seat-to-find-the-pacie stage. They entertain each other more than they used to -- and more often than not, they'll sleep through part of the drive.

But there are still some phrases that I hate to hear come from the back seat while we're driving. There's the classic "Are we there yet?" -- usually first uttered as we turn left out of our neighborhood. And then there are these winners:

1. "Mommy, I have a booger." Usually followed by the sound of my husband gagging. At least I've got tissues stashed in the glove box. The trick is to get the tissue around the kid's finger before said booger gets wiped on (ahem) something else.
2. "My mouth is itchy. Is there peanut butter in this?" When your son is allergic to peanuts and you're 30 miles from the nearest hospital, the last thing you want in the car is a reaction.
3. "She won't let me look out her window." Really? And how, pray tell, is she stopping you from pointing your open eyes toward the expanse of glass wrapping around our car?
4. "I have to poop. Now." Usually yelled about 3 minutes after we leave the rest area. This is the primary downside of children who are potty trained. 
5. "I can't see the movie on my screen." For some reason, one of the screens in our two-screen car DVD player set is showing up strangely green and kind of dark. I do not know why and cannot seem to fix it. And seriously, I spent HOURS in the car as a kid with NO TV and NO BOOKS (car sickness is a bitch) and I survived. Get over it, kid. 

So how about you? What car comments make you want to pull over at the next exit and hitchhike back home?

.

Camping: A Timeline

That's me and my husband at our campsite earlier this month -- photography by Junius, or maybe Pippi. Give or take a few minutes, here's how our first family-of-four camping trip went down:

11:30 a.m. - Leave Raleigh for a two-night camping trip.
12:00 - Stop for lunch at Smithfield's in Clayton.
12:10 - Get back in the car with way too much food.
12:15 - Begin answering the eternal question, "Are we there yet?"
[I'll spare you the itemized count of how many annoying questions we got along the drive.]

3:15 p.m. - Arrive at the ranger station for Hammocks Beach State Park.
3:30 - Leave our car in the parking lot. Load ourselves plus one jogger stroller, one large pack, two large tents, one large duffle bag, one large tote bag, two small backpacks and one cooler onto the ferry. Realize we have a metric ton of stuff to carry.
3:45 - Arrive at Bear Island and disembark the ferry. Eye dark, looming clouds and pray it doesn't storm.
3:47 - Begin walking the half-mile trail to the beach. Thank the heavens and our sweet neighbor for the jogger stroller we borrowed because we've loaded half a ton of stuff into it. Pippi is walking.
4:01 - Arrive at the beach. Buy cold drinks and chips at the snack house. Curse the discovery that they don't sell any other food on the island. Pee while we're at the bath house.
4:19 - Start walking the next half-mile to our reserved campsite. Redistribute the half ton of stuff onto Daddy so that Pippi can ride in the stroller. Thank the heavens for a strong Daddy.

4:36 p.m. - Arrive at the sign for our campsite. Climb past the protected turtle nest, over the dune and down into the valley to our picnic table and tent area. Marvel at how beautiful and quiet it is.

4:47 p.m. - Commence Operation Tent Set Up. Marvel at how patient Daddy is about letting the kids help.
5:18 - Decide we can help Daddy more by going down to the beach.

5:26 p.m. - Decide that I love beach camping because we have the whole place to ourselves and my children are so happy that they pretend to surf. They race in and out of the water's edge in complete bliss. I forget all my worries.
6:14 - Climb back over to our campsite. Make sandwiches and fruit for dinner. Wonder if we brought enough food.
6:58 - Walk back down to the beach. Because we can. Because it's right there. Because it's still light out and we know these kids are not going to fall asleep yet.
7:45 - Realize we're going to wear out before they do. Corral kids down to the bath house for showers and pajamas. Carry them back to the campsite in a futile attempt to keep them from getting sandy.

9:15 p.m. - Daddy emerges from the tent victorious in the battle of Kids vs. Sleep. We enjoy the quiet darkness before trying to brush the sand from our feet and squeezing into the tent to join them.

12:35 a.m. - I climb out of the tent to pee. In the dune, of course, because no way am I walking a half-mile alone in the dark to use the bath house. Lean back into the tent, brush the sand off my feet, rearrange myself next to my family and fall back to sleep.
12:40 - Unbeknownst to the rest of the family, Daddy decides we will only be staying one night.
2:15  - I get up to pee again. Dune, brush, rearrange, sleep.
4:23  - Curse my post-maternity bladder. Get up to pee. Again.

5:45 a.m. - Pippi sits straight up, smiles and declares, "Good morning, Daddy!"
5:45:30 - Junius bounces up and announces "I love beach camping!"
5:45:45 - We pretend to be sleep, hoping desperately that they're both talking in their sleep. It doesn't work.
5:53 - My husband turns to me and says, "I'm just going to say this out loud. We don't have to stay the second night." I am both amazed (because things were going better than I expected) and relieved (because I wasn't sure how long we could last).

6:12 a.m. - We walk down to the beach to watch the sunrise. It's beautiful and peaceful and magical enough to make us forget (for a moment) how tired we are.
6:45 - Return to campsite for breakfast. Fight off hungry bees.

6:55 a.m. - Junius writes in his track-out journal: "I see Trtll Eggs. Thea are in a Net. I like it. I saw The sun Rise today." He draws an adorable picture of a turtle ("Trtll") beside a little cage with circles in it, more or less like the protected nest at the entrance to our campsite.

7:21 a.m. - Pippi entertains herself with the digital camera and her newly acquired shell collection.

7:38 - Walk down to the bath house so I can wash my hands and remove the sandcastle that has wedged itself under my left contact lens.

8:02 - Walk back to our campsite, this time with the ability to see where I'm going.

10:07 a.m. - I attempt to teach the kids how to make drip castles while regaling them with stories of how their Pop Pop used to teach me when I was a kid. End up making drip castles alone until they are crashed by the rising tide.
11:35 - Scavenge for lunch from what's left in the cooler. Trust that the squishy Babybel cheese is still safe to eat. Thank husband for deciding to head home early so that we don't have to go back over on the ferry to buy more groceries to bring back over to the campsite.

1:17 p.m. - Engage in major battle with Pippi about wearing her sun hat. Laugh at how adorable Junius looks in his sun hat -- like a sandy little member of the French Legion. Note to self that dermatologist would be proud of us (okay, maybe not of my swimsuit, but I am COATED in sunscreen).
2:15 - Begin packing up all our stuff. Wonder how we will find the energy to carry it all back to the ferry. Wish we had brought a strong, child-free friend with us to help.
3:15 - Loaded like pack mules and grateful (again) for the jogger-stroller-turned-luggage-wagon, we start back down the beach toward the bath house.
3:21 - Realize we'll never make the ferry if Pippi has to walk. Redistribute load from the stroller so that Pippi can ride. Force her to hold the clean bath towels because there's nowhere else to put them.
3:23 - Fuss at Pippi for letting the clean bath towels fall into the sand.

3:24 p.m. - Realize that Pippi is down for the count (note the puffy cheeks and pouty lip).
3:36 - Rinse off in the outdoor showers at the bath house, change the kids out of their swim suits and race off down the path toward the ferry.
3:52 - Board the ferry. Breathe.

If you've actually made it through this whole timeline, I'll reward you by wrapping up quickly: load into the car, find a restaurant for dinner, marvel at Junius as he scarfs down a plate full of fried shrimp without taking a breath, cruise through Swansboro, drive back to Raleigh, unload the car, crash in our comfy, mostly-sand-free, fully air-conditioned beds.

Success.
.

A Decade of Dancing

Ten years ago today, during my graduate school spring break, I wandered through the Musee D'Orsay and saw this painting ("La Danse á la Ville" or "Dance in the City") by Renoir:

Then a couple of hours later, I found myself strolling across this bridge (Pont Neuf, the city's oldest):

And before I realized what was happening, this man was kneeling in front of me with a diamond ring sparkling in his hand:

He looked up into my eyes and said, "Je vous demande commencer la danse de nos vies ensemble..." (Translation: "I'm asking you to begin the dance of our lives together...")

I gasped, clutching my heart, and stammered, "Oh my gosh! Are you SERIOUS? Is it REAL?!" (Translation: "Yes, a thousand times, yes!")

He smiled at me and slid the ring on my finger as a misty rain fell over the Seine. We wandered around Paris in a daze for nearly an hour before finding ourselves back on the bridge and then stumbling into Côté Seine for a champagne dinner.

Ten years later, my answer would simply be: Oui, bien sûr. And what a dance it has turned out to be.

Renoir photo: wallyg. Bridge photo: Gregory Bastien. Husband photo: Evolve Studio.

.

Friday's 5: Reasons I Wish I Were Still There

Last week I wrote about five great places to getaway that are still close to home (assuming, of course, that your home is in central North Carolina). This week, I'm wishing I were at any of those places.

Why? Because this is my kitchen today:

Note the boxes of new cabinets filling the dining room
and the hole in the floor with insulation spilling out.
Guess who's eating out for the next week (or more)?

Specifically, here are five reasons why I wish I were still at the King's Daughters Inn in Durham:

1. The beautiful, cushy bed. I love the way posh hotels make the beds with a fitted sheet, top sheet, duvet and a second top sheet. Everything feels all velvety crisp and expensively snuggly.

2. The turn-down service. How lovely to come back from dinner and find my newly fluffed bed (see #1) with two glasses of port and two locally handmade chocolates on the side table. Perfect ending to a wonderful day.

3. The Mac/TV combo. We don't have a television in our bedroom at home -- both of us prefer it that way. So it's a total luxury to sit in our hotel bed and watch TV. Even better? Having a wireless Mac connected to the TV so that we can watch last week's "Community" episode from nbc.com.

4. The homemade granola. The inn's tasty breakfast included eggs, bacon, grits, pancakes and an assortment of fruit, muffins and cereal. But the best part was the homemade granola that I took back to our room to have with yogurt later in the morning.

5. The soft robe. Yes, I have my own bathrobe at home -- it's pink flannel and I really like it. But there's something special about a smooth, white hotel robe after a hot shower that didn't include interruptions from any small children.

What's your favorite special touch that makes staying at a hotel or inn absolutely perfect?
.

Friday's 5: Local Places to Spend the Night Away

Before we had kids, my husband and I took romantic trips to places like South Beach (FL), Charleston (SC, not WV) and Paris (France, not Texas).

After kids? Not so much. In fact, I'm ashamed to say that my passport is still expired.

But even though it's been years since we took a big trip together, that doesn't mean we haven't planned a getaway weekend here and there. We've just shifted from focusing on the destination to simply being-together-not-at-home-with-kids.

In order to maximize our time away and minimize the time we spend traveling, we've taken some lovely overnight trips to such exotic locales as (are you ready for this?) Pittsboro, Chapel Hill and Durham. Yes, that's a whopping 35 miles (or less) from our house.

I know it sounds crazy, but just leaving the kids at home with the grandparents while we sneak away for 24 hours is a marriage-saving luxury. We eat out for lunch, dinner and breakfast. We nap. We sleep in. We (gasp) talk to each other. We finish WHOLE SENTENCES without being interrupted. We maybe go to a movie or do a little shopping. We even spend a some quality time being naked together.

Then we go home to our beautiful children, much happier to see them because we've been away. They're so happy to see us, too -- but they also get a great time with their grandparents. It's really a win-win-win for all involved.

So if you're in need of a getaway with your spouse -- or even just to escape on your own for 24 hours -- here are five recommendations of places that are close to home:

1. The Fearrington House Country Inn: We stayed at the award-winning Fearrington right before Christmas when Junius was still an only child. It was my first night away from him in his whole 17-month life -- and it was  just what everyone in the family needed. The restaurant is fantastic, so you don't need to drive anywhere. Be sure not miss out on the afternoon tea. 
2. The Franklin Hotel: We stayed at the Franklin in November 2009 -- and yes, we sing the beginning of Nick Jr's "Franklin" theme song every time we talk about it ("Hey, it's Franklin..."). Being a UNC alum (twice), I'm always happy to spend a weekend on the Hill. But more than that, the Franklin is a beautiful, classy place to stay. Plus there are great restaurants in easy walking distance, so you can leave the car in the garage and not deal with downtown parking.
3. The King's Daughters Inn: We stayed at the KDI (as they call it in the materials) last weekend thanks to a Living Social Deal. Although I'd normally be a little jittery so close to Duke's campus (see double-UNC alum, above), I really liked the inn. Again, lots of great restaurants close by -- although we ended up driving to dinner because it was cold and rainy. More details in next week's post.
4. Renaissance Raleigh North Hills Hotel: I actually stayed at the Renaissance with a friend for a mom's getaway -- but it would be a nice place to go with my husband sometime, too. It's less than two miles from my house, yet I could have been 200 miles away given the bizarre feeling of freedom to see an afternoon movie, enjoy a leisurely dinner, wander around shops and visit with my friend. The Renaissance Hotels are Marriott properties, but more upscale than the average chain hotels.
5. Front Street Inn: This is the only place on my list that's not in the Triangle -- but Wilmington is an easy 2-hour drive from Raleigh. With quirky rooms and a view of the Cape Fear River, the Front Street Inn is located in the historic district, offering easy access to restaurants, shops and antique stores.

So the next place on my list? The Umstead Hotel and Spa. I haven't even been inside yet, but everything that I've read and seen about it looks glorious. If we can't get back to Paris for our 10th anniversary this fall, maybe we can just pretend by enjoying the luxurious life at The Umstead and spending a morning at the NC Museum of Art.

How about you? What's your favorite overnight getaway location?


Note: As always, none of the places listed here offered me any sort of compensation for writing this post. However, I'm happy to accept a coupon toward my next visit if anyone would like to send one.

Travel Tips: Addendum for Avoiding Failure

So when I wrote about how successful we'd been with get Pippi to sleep in hotel cribs, evidently I missed one critical step. Pay close attention now, because it seems there was a fatal flaw in my plan.

When you reserve your hotel room and request the crib, you have to specify that by "crib" you mean an actual crib. Not a pack-n-play. 

Because apparently, if you don't clarify that seemingly obvious but critically important detail, you might get a pack-n-play.

And when you get to your hotel room with two tired kids and your exhausted selves and the hotel desk clerk brings you a pack-n-play, your husband will have to politely but very firmly explain to the bewildered clerk why that pack-n-play is completely unacceptable.

Then said clerk will desperately call other hotels in the area asking to borrow an actual crib and your husband will have to drive to a nearby hotel to pick up the crib because the clerk is the only person working at the hotel and can't leave.

And you'll be disappointed all over again when your husband calls from the car to say that the other hotel thought they had a crib, but turns out they only have pack-n-plays, too.

So you'll cram your almost-three-year-old into the pack-n-play, where she can't stretch out all the way because she's longer than the available space. You'll explain to her that it's not a good idea to keep climbing out and then jumping back in from the bed. And you'll cross your fingers that maybe you'll all get two or three hours of sleep before she climbs out and refuses to sleep any more.

If you know anyone at Marriott, please teach them the difference between a crib and a pack-n-play.

And say a prayer, y'all. It's going to be a long night.

Image borrowed from Traveling Baby Company, which seems like a great idea if they're where you are.
.

Travel Tips: To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Today's post is part of the inaugural Blogging Friends Road-Weary Traveling Tips Compendium, founded by Evelyn at Momsicle. If you're traveling for the holidays this week (or even if you're not), you'll want to check out the other bloggers linked below who are offering great tips today.

We're fortunate to live in the same state with our parents -- close enough for a day trip now and then. But we still find ourselves needing to spend the night away from home, either visiting friends and family or taking a vacation. And the hardest part for us has consistently been sleep.

We moved Junius to a big boy bed when he was two, so he's been the easy one. And when Pippi was a baby, she survived in the pack-and-play okay for a while.

Then we took her to stay with friends in Charlotte.

She had just turned two years old -- still sleeping happily in her crib at home, but probably too big for the pack-n-play we parked at the foot of our bed. She tossed, turned and sobbed all night. "I go home. Seep my crib," she wailed. It was so pitiful. She was miserable, we were miserable, no one slept. We left after lunch the next day to avoid another disastrous night.

For months after, we simply didn't travel overnight. But then there were vacations and other trips we couldn't pass on. And thus began our trial-and-error approach to solving the Pippi problem.

Here's what I've learned about sleeping away with a toddler who's too big for a pack-n-play and not yet ready for a bed:

1. The very cute toddler-sized air mattress with built-in princess pink sleeping bag was not the answer. She loved it when I pulled it out of the box, wouldn't get off of it when we inflated it in, snuggled right into the sleeping bag when we zipped her up. And then she was done with it. Took forever to get her to sleep, then we found her like this (photo above) an hour later. She's sound asleep in that picture -- on the floor, with her head on the mattress. We slid her back into the sleeping bag, but she was awake and in our bed an hour after that.
2. Putting her in the trundle bed at her grandparents' house next to her brother was not the answer. They talked and giggled and wouldn't go to sleep. They switched beds back and forth. And in the middle of the night, when we thought they were finally sleeping, she hopped up, ran into the living room and retrieved a pile of toys to take back to her bed. She ended up in bed with me and her daddy slept on the trundle with Junius that night.
3. Same scene, different day at the other grandparents' house when we tried putting her in the twin bed (with rails on both sides) beside her brother.
4. Tucking her into the queen- or king-sized bed with us meant she eventually slept -- but we didn't. She rolls around, throws elbows and kicks in her sleep. Oh, and she wakes up at the crack of dawn, ready to play.
5. And finally, the solution. If she sleeps fine at home in her crib, then get a crib. Duh. On a weekend trip to Virginia Beach, we asked the hotel to set up a crib in our room. Worked like magic. She slept so well, we didn't even mind when she woke up smiling with the sun at the foot of our bed and sang out, "Hi Daddy!" Later in the summer, we stayed with a friend who still had a crib in storage -- magic again. And on our end-of-summer beach week, we rented a crib from one of those places that rents beach chairs and umbrellas. Ta-da! Even at naptime, it worked like a charm. 

I realize we'll have to move her to a bed at some point -- but I've decided not to sweat it until she turns three. And Thursday night, she'll be in another hotel crib, hopefully sleeping soundly after a wild day of playing with the cousins and eating too much dessert.

Now, CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE for where to go next:

• Evelyn at Momsicle, who embraced the red-eye and mood-altering substances
• Sue at Motherhood and Me, who won't let a little in-flight poop get in the way of traveling all over the country to see her family
• Kim at Let Me Start By Saying, who believes that with the right packing list, a little compromise and some red wine, you can successfully travel with two kids
• Sandhya at Literary Safari, who tackled international travel with a baby and lived to tell about it
• And more later this week from Lauren at Fizgiggery

If you want to join in the fun, leave your tips in the comments here or write your own travel tips post and leave the link in the comments.

Friday's 5: Great Things About Type-A Mom

When I got home Sunday night, I had grand visions of posting something each day this week about my time at Type A Mom conference. Monday started off strong -- and that was the end of that.

So now it's Friday, and I think I'll try to sum up a week's worth of never-got-written posts with a list of five things that made the conference worthwhile.

1. Clearly, the best part of the weekend was the people. From famous bloggers to newbies, friends in real life to people I've only read online, it was a really interesting crowd. Those lovely ladies above all write from here in the Triangle, bloggers came to Asheville from all over the country. Much has been written this week about whether or not the "popular bloggers" were approachable or elitist (two of my favorite posts are from Jessica and Abby) -- personally, I found them all to be lovely, witty and kind.
2. Thanks to the Mom Market, I got a head start on my Christmas shopping. And by head start, I mean that I picked up business cards so that I can do all my shopping on these ladies' websites. Trust me when I tell you that you want to check out Lemons with a Pea (and her hilarious blog), BabyPop Designs (what kid doesn't want a custom superhero cape and accessories?), Sweet Sadie Marie (love all the little chalkboards), stringbean17 (creator of Pippi's adorable new backpack, which you'll just have to ask for because it's not on her etsy site), Studio Jewel (I'll take one of each, please) and Cranky Pants (two words: monster booty).
3. Okay, let's be honest, the swag was fun. Came home with cool shopping bags, new running socks, a Disney clubhouse towel and notebook, tasty snacks and much much more. Oh, and (brace yourself), a Build-a-Bear. An actual, free, full-sized, snuggly soft Build-a-Bear. You know, because Maxine Clark is just that kind of awesome.
4. I learned a lot, both in the sessions and just in conversations with other bloggers. I've already bought my url and set up a Facebook page for my blog (click over to "like" me if you want) -- other changes might take longer to implement. (Scroll through Everyday Baby Steps for details and transcripts from some of the sessions.)
5. Coming home. There's nothing like being away for a couple of days to make your family miss you -- and vice versa. My sweet husband sent text messages with photos during the weekend so I could see what the kids were up to. And the hugs I got (along with hand-made cards) when I arrived home were enough to power me through the crazy week ahead.

So thanks to Kelby Carr and all the presenters, volunteers, sponsors and participants who helped make the weekend a success. Here's hoping I can live up to the potential.

Photo by Canape's husband, featuring (L to R) Abby, Andrea, Fadra, me, Jessica, Marty (with her cutest accessory) and Sue.

Friday's 5: Type-A Mom Conference

I'm about to do something that, two years ago, I would never have expected. I'm leaving Friday afternoon to go to a blogging conference.

Yeah, I know -- it sounds crazy to me, too.

But it's a lovely, fall weekend in Asheville hanging out with smart, interesting, clever blogging mamas (and some daddies, too) -- which honestly sounds like a lot of fun.

Except that now that I'm about to go, I've decided it's a supremely bad idea. Now that I really think about it, going to a blogging conference goes against all the reasons I actually like blogging. Here's why:

1. Clothing: When I'm blogging, I can be in my jammies, my sweaty tshirt or whatever I happen to have on. No one sees me and no one cares. At a conference, all that goes out the window. Suddenly I have to think about what to pack and what I could possibly wear that didn't come from Target or Old Navy.
2. Location: When I'm blogging, I'm at home. Doesn't take any planning or traveling or coordinating. I just sit down at my computer and start. With this conference, there's the four-hour drive there, the four-hour drive back, plus the cost of the hotel in between.
3. Timing: When I'm blogging, I squeeze in time during Pippi's nap or after the kids go to bed. My husband probably gets slighted the most, but I try to write when it's not taking time away from anyone else. This conference means I'll be gone for three days -- Daddy will be parenting solo. He's more than capable, but he's going to be one tired man by Sunday night.
4. Editing: When I'm blogging, I don't have to be clever on the first try. I can edit, tweak, delete, add, link and change to my heart's content. In person, at a conference? It's all live, with no time to rehearse.
5. Popularity: When I'm blogging, I know that at least five of my relatives and two or three friends are going to read every post. It doesn't matter if I don't have hundreds of subscribers as long as someone I know leaves a comment now and then. At this conference, there will be actual blog celebrities in the house. Meanwhile, I'll be loitering in the lobby with a pocket full of Triangle Mamas business cards hoping someone recognizes me from my avatar @convertiblelife.

Okay, now that I've gotten that off my chest, I'm going to get over myself. Truth is, if I get to hang out with the Triangle Mamas and some of the other talented local bloggers I've already met, it will be a great weekend -- no matter what I wear or say or do. 

And at the end of it all, I'll get to come home to my sweet family and appreciate them that much more for having been away.

Traveling mercies -- see you next week!

Ode to the Expired Passport

Last week my husband and I pulled out our passports -- I'm embarrassed to report that both had expired in 2003. It's one of those things we kept meaning to do -- then new job, new house, new baby, another job, another house, another baby, more jobs, yet another house, and here we are seven years later without having needed a passport.

Just hours after I'd been inspecting my passport photo (hello, 1993 -- how's that curling iron working for you?), I read this post by fellow Triangle blogger Fadra. And given that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery (right?), I decided to write my own version.

So, of course, we must start with the photo page. When I showed a friend this picture, she guessed that 6 out 10 current friends would not have recognized this as me. I'm going to take that as a compliment about how current and hip and trendy I look now. And yes, in fact, I did think I had beautiful Brook Shields eyebrows back then, thankyouverymuch.

Sadly, it turns out that my passport never got stamped in many of the countries I visited -- no markings from Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Ireland or one of the trips I made to France. But there are three stamps that hold the greatest significance for me.

First, the stamp shown here at the bottom is the reason I got my passport in 1993 -- summer study abroad in London with a class from UNC.

That trip was probably the boldest decision I made in college -- spending the summer overseas without any friends or family. Thankfully, I made a great friend on that trip who joined me on Eurail after our course was over -- and who is still one of my dearest friends today. Anyone who can survive that kind of travel with me -- and deal with my homesickness -- is a friend forever.

The next stamp, six years later, landed me in the same airport, but with a special pass that allowed me to stay for a full year.

I left Hurricane Floyd behind at the Greensboro airport, but I was my own personal disaster for the next few weeks while I tried to get my feet on the ground. For one year, I studied magazine journalism at Cardiff University -- and traveling around Europe whenever I had the chance -- while I proved to myself that I could not only survive, but even thrive away from the comforts and familiar faces of home.

And finally, for the last stamp in this passport, I wasn't traveling alone -- but the trip turned out to be the most memorable in many ways.

This little stamp from Charles de Gaulle airport marks the day before my husband pulled a sparkling diamond ring from his pocket as he knelt in front of me on the Pont Neuf in Paris. It's the only overseas trip we've taken together -- so far.

Here's hoping that over the next 10 years our new passports will be filled with matching stamps as happy reminders of shared experiences.

Friday's 5: You're Going Where?

During my year of grad school in the UK, I got lots of funny questions about life in North Carolina -- but one of my favorites was the time someone said to me (in her beautiful Welsh accent), "Oh, we have some relatives who moved to North Carolina... have you been to La Fayette Ville?"

Ummm... "You mean," I replied with an exaggerated twang, "Fayettville?"

Okay, so it's funnier when you can actually hear it. But I cracked up in that moment, realizing suddenly that I had never made the connection between Fayetteville, NC, (or Fayette-nam, as it's sometimes called) and the Marquis de La Fayette.

Anywho, I thought about this story recently as we were driving across the state and laughing about all the ways people mispronounce the names of cities and towns in North Carolina (and don't even get me started on Virginia, given that my relatives are all from the Norfolk/Newport News/Hampton area -- that's "Nah-fahk"). So here, to help out the natives and transplants alike, are five names that might alert the locals that you're not from 'round here.

1. Mebane: That's Meh' bin. Not Mee bain. Trust me on this one.
2. Topsail Beach: "Topsail" is one word, not two. Don't say Top Sail -- smush it together to be Top' suhl, with emphasis on the first syllable.
3. Beaufort: This one is actually a trick name. There are two correct pronunciations, but one is in NC (Bo' fert, with a long o) and one is in SC (Byoo' fert).
4. Rowan: Another tricky one, this county name is also a street in my neighborhood. Unlike Brook Shields' daughter by the same name, the county is pronounced Row (as in row, row your boat) Ann' (emphasis on the second syllable).
5. Wendell: This town in Wake County is a total switcheroo. Although it actually was named as a nod to the poet Oliver Wendell Holmes, it's pronounced Wen dell' (or almost Win' dail, if you've got enough twang) instead of Wen' duhl.

Congratulations -- you're now one step closer to sounding like you belong here. What's your favorite mixed up location name, here or wherever you're traveling this summer?

Postcard image from APS Online.

Cardiff: First Week

I was hoping to have another Cardiff post for you by now, but two things have slowed me down:

1. My journal entries are fascinating. To me. But to you, maybe not so much. I'm reliving moments I had long forgotten, but not sure how much is worth sharing. Culling through for good stories to share, but I keep getting lost in the flood of memories.

2. My articles and e-pistles home are all trapped on the hard drive of my old laptop. It was cutting edge when I took it to Cardiff, but now I can't get it to access the internet and it won't read my new flash drives. Hopefully my IT department (aka, my husband) will remedy that problem soon.

In the meantime, here are a few choice lines from my journal from the first week overseas:

• "Tonight I am courage on Xanax." [It had been prescribed before I left to help manage my extreme anxiety.]
  
  
• "Today one of the old ladies in the International Office told me I have a very British face. I hope that's a compliment."
  
  
• "Later that same day, an Indian student told me I look like a slimmer version of Gillian Anderson [I wish!]. Then a Japanese girl told me I look like an American. Do I say 'thank you'?"
  
  
• "Heard a radio ad today for a used car lot. Just didn't have the same effect as used-car dealers in the U.S. With a British accent, the "200 cars that MUST SELL NOW" sounds strangely polite and formal."

The rest of the journal entries from those early days are consumed with pitiful homesickness and tedious logistics as I tried desperately to get settled. Hope to have a better post for you soon...

Image from Fused Film.

Floyd, Fear and Flying Far

Ten years ago tomorrow, I boarded a plane at the Greensboro airport en route to Cardiff, Wales.

I was terrified. I don't like to fly under the best of circumstances, but my connector flight to D.C. was to be the last (tiny) plane out before the airport closed due storms from Hurricane Floyd. The turbulence from bad weather alone would have been enough to tie my stomach in knots.

But my fear of going halfway around the world to live for a year -- without my family, friends or even a passing acquaintance -- meant I hadn't eaten or slept much for the few days preceding the flight, leaving me a weak, sniffling disaster with a passport and a whole lot of luggage. If not for the support of one of my dearest friends who waited with me at the D.C. airport and another BFF who made a care package to keep me entertained on the flight to London, I might not have survived the trip.

When I arrived at my flat in Cardiff the next day, alone and exhausted, I was certain I had made the biggest mistake of my life. That night, I began my first journal entry with these words:

"I am courage. At least that's what Mom said when I called her from my host Rotarian's house sobbing at 5 p.m. She said that courage isn't being unafraid; it's being afraid, but still facing your fears. So, here I am, facing them."

She was right, of course (moms usually are), although it took several weeks before I believed her. And the year, spent studying magazine journalism at Cardiff University as a Rotary Ambassadorial Scholar, was one of the best decisions I ever made.

In celebration of that decision and in thanks to my parents for helping me find the courage I needed a decade ago, I'll be posting excepts from my year abroad over the next month -- some snippets from my journals, but also copy from feature articles I wrote while I was there. Since I wasn't tech-savvy enough to be on the forefront of blogging in 1999, I'm taking this opportunity to relive the experience now -- hope you don't mind coming along on the trip.