Tag Archives: vacation

Wordless Wednesday: The Summer Bucket List

Summer vacation is upon us.

I think Search wants to go on a boat…

Caden's Bucket

Search’s Summer Bucket List:

  • Paint an easter basket
  • Drive the boat
  • Swim in Grand Papa’s pool
  • Go on a boat

Logan's Bucket

Destroy’s Summer Bucket List:

  • Play airplanes
  • Bake cake
  • Play trucks
  • Go to school
  • Play with the train table


TechMom Tuesday: iPad Minis for the Mini People

TechMomI write a monthly column over at AlliOSNews. It’s a techie site – extolling all the goodies and gunpowder on the Apple OS. (SHINY TOY!) I’m TechMom. And these are my stories on how technology is really used. This is what you must deal with as I am a Silicon Valley nerd by day.

(I’m well aware it’s Friday.  If you want TechMom Tuesday on Tuesdays, head on over to AlliOSNews for all things Apple. TechMom Tuesday is typically published the first Tuesday of every month. I reserve the right to rant more or less as the technical goings-on, well…go on. This month it’s late because I was off celebrating America’s Independence Day the first week, and then my editor was on vacation the next.) Continue reading

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Happy Mother’s Day. I Might Have P-neumonia


It was supposed to be a footloose, fun and fancy-free girl’s weekend on the beach. We’d been planning our getaway for almost six months. Because when you’re a mom, these things take time to organize.

It was supposed to be. It was not. Continue reading


Welcome Home. We Pooped.

Last night was the end of my New York Adventure. (More about that later.) I got back to my room at 9:30 and decided I was exhausted and done. Shortly thereafter I found myself at the hotel bar getting to know some seriously awesome fellow bloggers late into the night.

This morning I awoke FAR too early so I could catch a flight back to the Golden State and reality. The sunrise greeted me with several new tweets from my new friends. Continue reading


Two Tickets to Paradise – Monday: Air

Did you miss me?

Thanks to an act of God, Jon and I were able to escape for a week. After a very long weekend spent celebrating the weekend of my brother and sister (heehee! I have a sister!) the four of us trooped down to the newlyweds house on Manhattan Beach and rested up for some trips to tropical paradise. Continue reading


Muppets Take Monterey: The Royal Wedding (Part I)

By the time I got home from work on Thursday, the muppets were sound asleep. When I woke them up two hours into their good night’s sleep, Search eyed me suspiciously. We headed off to the airport to meet Auntie Beeca and Uncle Bryan. When the Portlandian’s flight landed, I texted Beeca, “I hope your hubbie plays a mean game of Tetris.”

Continue reading

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Muppets Take Monterey: Carmel-by-the-Sea

Did you miss us? Feel lost without entertaining new posts to read?

The muppets and I spent the past weekend in Carmel for my girlfriend’s wedding. Maureen is one of the “lovelies,” so we had a reunion. Continue reading


Over the Hills and Through the Woods

…to grandmother’s house we go.

It took three days of packing, two suitcases and one very large SUV. But the muppets and I braved the pouring rain and trekked 370 miles south to GrammaJ and GrampaStavo’s house in the rain. Jon remained behind to hold down the fort, care for our furry four-legged boys, and work.

I know that babies can get a little out of sorts in a new place, so Jon and I did all we could to ensure they felt at home. Two pack-n-plays (one borrowed), Dolph and El (their nighttime snuggly lovies – a stuffed dolphin and elephant), their jumper (bounce! bounce!), the Tiny Gym playmat (with dangly toys and activity Hungry Caterpillar), 10 pairs of jammies and stylish outfits for each day of our stay, bibs (lots of bibs), the land yacht of a stroller, and a wide variety of miscellaneous toys to grab and gnaw, among other accouterments.

At the last minute, Jon kindly reminded me that I should probably bring some necessities of my own. So I stuffed some jeans and shirts into a duffel bag and piled all my electronics gear into an insulated, cushioned case. (I wouldn’t have you, my faithful readers, bereft of my witty postings detailing the lives of our beloved muppets…)

We hit the road at 6 a.m. The rolling hum of the tires and the pounding raindrops surrounding the car, combined with the still darkness of pre-dawn, put the boys right back to sleep. They dozed happily in the backseat; I filled up the gas tank, hit Starbucks for a caffeine shooter and guided the Pilot onto the 101 freeway. Four hours into the drive, the muppets started babbling in the backseat. I was impressed they lasted as long as they did – I start getting antsy about 30 minutes into a road trip.

We pulled off the road to refuel muppets and the car in Buellton, at the home of Mrs. Anderson’s Split-Pea soup. It seemed an appropriate stopping point; I’m not personally a fan of pea soup (especially at 10 in the morning), but pureed peas are featured prominently on the muppets dinner menu this week.

The final hour of the drive to SoCal is always my favorite – winding along the coastline with the Pacific Ocean waves breaking on the beach outside your passenger windows, and traveling beneath the swaying palm trees and cliffside houses that perch along the hills through Santa Barbara. Granted, some trips are more uplifting than others, but even with the grey water and dreary, sad looking soggy trees, I was thrilled to share the muppets first seaside adventure with them. I think Destroy turned his head and went back to sleep.

Precisely five and a half hours after departure, we pulled into G.G.’s driveway. The vacation officially commenced and we headed indoors for five fun-filled days of muppet spoiling, as they meet their throngs of admirers who have been anxiously awaiting an audience since May 28.



Up the Waterspout

I never thought 8:30 a.m. would be considered “sleeping in.” But this morning, I heard some muppet chatter at 7. I closed my eyes briefly, hoping they were just checking the time with one another. (“OOoahhhh?” – Search, I’m awake. Are you? Should we get up now? “Wwwwmllawww.” – No Destroy, it’s too early. We should lay here and quietly entertain ourselves so Mom can get another hour of sleep.)

Much to my amazement, when I opened my eyes again, it was 8:30! The muppets were calmly talking among themselves in the other room. I was greeted with wide eyes and bright smiles. See! These morning attitudes are why sleep is so exciting. Ready to tackle our lazy Sunday, we meandered downstairs for some breakfast and rounds of Itsy Bitsy Spider. Destroy serenaded us with his newfound talent for squealing (I’ve got to teach that kid that if he reduces the amount of air crossing his vocal chords, he’ll still get his point across…) and I crossed my fingers for a puke free meal. It reminded me of what I was doing one year ago, this holiday weekend.

Last October, my girlfriend Amber and I were sharing an office at our client’s headquarters. (I know it’s January – stick with me here, I’m getting there.) Out of the blue, she turned to me and said, “Southwest is having a sale – $100 to Portland round-trip.” AuntJ and Auntie Beeeca live in Oregon. Amber’s aunt and Grandma Winnie live there too. (Yes, you read that right – we both have Grandma Winnies.) Spontaneously, we exclaimed, “Let’s do it!” And within 15 minutes we’d planned our vacation.

Well, as we now know, by the time MLK weekend in January rolled around, I was a double trouble muppet mom-to-be. And I had the morning sickness to prove it. I considered bailing on the trip, but despite my renewed acquaintance with every toilet (or secluded hedge in a pinch) around me, I wanted to visit family and friends. Besides, it seemed like a good idea.

Amber and I agreed that I would be the driver of our rental car. We weighed the pros and cons: Pro – me not arfing on Amber and her small child (the ever adorable 18-month-old, Henry). Con – my proven directional abilities may have us ending up somewhere in Idaho. The final conclusion was determined to be a preference for not getting arfed on, regardless of location. Additionally, I could then drop Amber and Henry off at her family’s house and have the ability to make the two hour trek back into Portland to visit Auntie Beeca over the weekend.

So off we went. It was pouring when we arrived. (Shocking right? Rain in Oregon in winter?) After Henry made his way down the line of people waiting to board the plane out of Oregon – shaking hands and hugging babies, we hit the road. Henry took “Henry’s spot” in the back of our Ford Focus and started chatting away. I smiled thinking of the little muppets I hadn’t met yet.

When I arrived in the small town that AuntJ calls Home Sweet Home, I greeted my family, handed them their belated Christmas gifts, and arfed. Then I came back to meet their new puppy. Uncle Mark was sent to the store in search of fruit punch Gatorade and its electrolyte-y goodness. AuntJ and I headed into town for a Girls Night Out – fine dining at Applebee’s and a George Clooney cinematic experience.

Applebee’s was a happening place, and because AuntJ wasn’t about to miss any minutes of George’s mug, we headed to the bar. I headed to the single open seat at the same time another bar patron attempted to do the same. “You have to let the pregnant women have the seat!” AuntJ proclaimed. Fabulous. Announce to the world that the pregnant woman is at the bar.

The following day, I breathed deeply many times over and went to meet my little niece Leila. Auntie Beeca was there too. “So, things are good.” I told her. “Oh, and we’re having twins.”

“We’re having twins!” Auntie Beeca screeched to her very bewildered looking husband. He appeared very thankful to then turn and see me sitting on his couch.

That night, as I pulled off Interstate 5, I saw the lights flashing behind me. I’d never been pulled over before. The officer walked up to my window. I turned the car back on so I could roll down my window and peered out. I assumed he was less than pleased to be standing in the pouring rain asking for my license and registration. I was sweating. I started to have a difficult time catching my breath.

This was not going to look good. Rental car, headed off an interstate known for drug traffic and a panting, sweating suspect. This trip had seemed like a good idea, but throwing up on a cop would be a very bad idea. Apparently sick and tired almost-moms-of-multiples were not what he was after, so he returned my paperwork and sent me on my way. (No ticket.)

Now a year has passed. I didn’t get puked on at breakfast. I did get puked on at lunch and dinner. And after this evening’s rice cereal attempt, Jon surveyed the “artwork” (or carnage) and announced, “This round of Mom vs. Muppets definitely goes to the muppets.”

What a difference a year makes. And the itsy bitsty spider went up the waterspout again.