Learning to “Ski Like a Girl” at Keystone Resort

I grew up with O.S.S. (Only-Sister Syndrome), which often became S.O.S. when participating in sports with my ultra-competitive brothers. The biggest slam to my ego was when they accused me of doing anything “like a girl.”

But here’s the deal: last week at Keystone Resort, I “skied like a girl” and loved every minute of it. While Jamie and Bode went sledding at the Nordic Center, Hadley and I got a sneak peak at Keystone’s infamous Betty Fest ski clinics, the ultimate in girl bonding. Their regular clinic includes two days of on-hill training for all levels, video analysis and women- specific discussions.

Our little Betty Fest consisted of amiable PSIA-certified women instructors and [perhaps most importantly] pink feather boas.

I have skied since I was a wee Canadian lassie and worked as a publicist in Utah’s ski industry. But here’s the deal: I haven’t improved in years. And so when my kick-butt instructor Cathy asked me what skills I wanted to work on, I told her I wanted to ski moguls like Wonder Woman, who incidentally, is one step above skiing like a girl.

Cathy’s first item of business: bringing me down to the depths of humility and correcting every single technique I had. And just when I felt I was starting to resemble a one-legged tree frog on skis, she built me back up so I was rocking those bumps…and not just rolling over them.

Though make no mistake: even during the rolling, the feather boa held up marvelously and I highly recommend Keystone’s next Betty Fest February 28 – March 1. I hope to be there, boa and all.

Keystone Lake: A Cut of Canada

Most families have some kind of initiation when someone marries into the clan. My American husband received a pair of hockey skates with the explicit instructions that any of our future half-breeds should be born on the blade.
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But here’s the the deal: a Canuck’s idea of skating is not circling around on some uninspired indoor rink with music blaring in the background. We like wide open spaces and skate for miles on rivers and lakes. Frozen nose hairs are an added bonus.

Keystone Lake
is about as close to The Real Skating Deal as I have come since moving to the United States. They boast their five-acre lake is the largest Zamboni-maintained outdoor skating rink in North America. My little clan had the time of our lives cruising around, watching the pick-up hockey game and marveling at the mountain grandeur as flurries of ice particles glittered in the swirling air. It was the perfect cut of Canada.

Minus the frozen nose hairs.

When the Spa & Sleigh Rides Do Not Mix

While at the Keystone Lodge and Spa I received the Aboriginal Mala Mayi treatment. After a gentle full-body scrub, I was covered in silky warm Mapi Body Mud, received a Paudi scalp massage, followed by a full-body Marta Kodo massage. It was 100 minutes of sheer bliss, only to be interrupted by a mad dash to Keystone’s famous sleigh ride dinner with my family.
sleigh ride
It should have been the perfect evening in our horse-drawn sleigh. Snuggling up to my children as we soared across Soda Creek Valley’s snowy wonderland. Watching the snowflakes collect on their lashes as we gazed up at the explosion of stars. Hearing them giggle in delight as we arrived at the restored ranch homestead. Eating a delicious four-course steak dinner with all the fixins’. Laughing as we sang along to cowboy tunes all night.

But it wasn’t perfect. Not for me, anyway.

Remember that blissful massage I had a couple hours prior? There was some detoxification involved. The kind that involves flushing the bad toxins out of my body at a very rapid rate. I’ll stop there. Just know that I became very acquainted with the cowboy outhouse all evening long. I learned then what I should have known all along: cowboys and spas should never, ever mix.

Maybe I should just stick to sking like a girl.

Denver Mommy Blogger Does Canadian Christmas

A few weeks ago, my friend Lisa hosted a Christmas soiree and had a gift exchange to be remembered. For those who don’t know how to play: everyone brings a wrapped gift and then draws a number and takes a turn either choosing an unwrapped gift or swiping one that has already been opened.

We were half-way through the exchange when my friend Wendy opened the gift I had brought–a green and orange prize ribbon. Everyone dubiously stared at it until realization set in that it was for a certain someone’s prized pumpkin. I won’t go into details but it got ugly. Jamie attests that no one was laughing.

I can assure you that everyone was laughing but him.

Now, onto some highlights of our two-week vacation in Canada:

Sleep, Blessed Sleep

We slept in every morning. I haven’t had that many consecutive nights of eights hours of sleep since birth. Oh wait. I didn’t sleep even then. We slumbered in my parent’s pitch-dark basement. After our first night, I awoke to Bode screaming at the top of his lungs, “Can’t see, can’t see!” In toddler speak, this means “HALP, I’M BLIND!!!!!”

The Cold

The weather was almost unbearable the first several days (-30 degrees) but we spent some quality time visiting with my folks snuggling up by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, dragging the dogs for walks around the house, doing make-up with Grandma, playing games and hanging out in the Canadian Rockies. Oh, and sleeping. Did I mention glorious sleep?

Outdoor Pursuits, Canadian-Style

When temps warmed up, Dad and I went cross-country skiing and we all tobogganed at the gully near my house. Turns out my thrill-seeking days are over and I started to scream “I’m too old for this”… until my 68-year-old father zoomed past me. Jamie declared he had two days left on his health insurance and brazenly stupidly went off a huge jump. There was no sympathy as he limped around afterwards.

I got some YakTrax from my parents for Christmas. Never heard of them? Just strap these bad boys onto your shoes and they help you run in the snow. It was so bloody cold that first week that I went out for a run when it was -20 C. I covered my face with my turtleneck but just breathing caused it to freeze solid. Bottom line: Yaktrax work out marvelously in the sub-zero temps but maybe you shouldn’t. Will wait for balmy -15 degree conditions next time around.

On Not Getting Ripped

My brother Pat and his wife Jane took Jamie and I to Caesar’s, the best steakhouse in Calgary. Oh, and I did not get Ripped. Why burn 1,000 calories in an hour when you eat ten times that in two hours? The good Lord chose to smite me with the stomach flu that Ripped day. A curse or possibly a blessing?

The Canucks

Seeing beloved friend Stacey and then hanging out with cherished high school sweethearts Allison and Shannon.

Note: Prior to snapping this shot, Shannon asked, “Are we taking the picture with our clothes on or off?”

And no, we weren’t those kind of sweethearts.

Jamie met renowned giant pumpkin grower “The Ice Man” (because what would any vacation be like without pumpkins?) Ice Man took him out to his property and showed Jamie his 12 greenhouses where he grows his orange monstrosities. A disturbing glimpse into the life we would lead if we ever moved to Canada.

My brother Pat is a commodities trader and travels in wealthy circles. We got invited out to one of these friend’s houses for a Boxing Day party to play hockey in their backyard (because doesn’t everyone flood their backyard and make it into a rink?) I enjoyed chatting with everyone but later realized the net worth in the room with four other couples was $100 million. Any guesses who was the poorest?

Christmas

Nothing has ever compared to Christmas in Canada for me. Christmas Eve was replete with family traditions of stuffing our faces, [badly] playing the Christmas bells, proving our mental deficiencies in the Left-Wright Game and fighting over presents in the gift exchange. Christmas Day was food, generosity and laughter. The perfect holiday spent with my wonderful parents and my brother and his family.

The Flights

I did not die (though I wanted to kill a few people en route.) Overall, pretty minor on the Amber Scale of Catastrophes: 1) Our Chariot stroller accrued THREE flat tires 2) The Las Vegas airport SUCKS for layovers and doesn’t have a #$&(&# train between terminals and the Chariot would not fit in the shuttle. 3) We flew into Denver with 40 mph winds–the worst turbulence I have ever experienced. As the children delightedly squealed, “Weeeee, roller-coaster airplane!” I started writing my will. Of course, you are all in it.

Too bad I’m not worth much.

Note to self: start hanging out with wealthy commodities traders in 2009.

XOXO
Amber

The Delta Lodge at Kananaskis

Our Christmas was all about giving each other “experiences.” My brother and sister-in-law threatened to take us to the killer workout Ripped but I mercifully got sick and they instead porked us up at the city’s nicest steakhouse. And for The Parents Who Have Everything, my husband Jamie and I decided we would whisk them away on an overnighter in the Canadian Rockies.

Lest you think this was a bit over-the-top, it helped we were already vacationing at their home in Calgary.

I wanted somewhere that was kid-friendly, fairly close and most importantly, had gorgeous views of the Canadian Rockies. Long ago, I had bookmarked The Delta Lodge at Kananaskis as a potential destination. Never heard of Kananaskis Country? Take it from me: it is Alberta’s best-kept secret. While all the other tourists are heading to nearby Banff or Jasper, locals sneak off to Kananaskis’ 4,000-square kilometer outdoor playground, which is just as beautiful but without the crowds and cost.

And yes, I am quoting the size in kilometers. All you non-metric people need to get with the program (and rest of the world).

The Delta Lodge is consistently rated as one of Alberta’s best family hotels and upon check-in, each of the children received a packet of fun Christmas crafts and toys. I really didn’t have an agenda because there is a lot to do in the area with a nearby tobogganing hill, a gorgeous walk along the Rim Trail, an outdoor pond for skating, a pool and spa, game room and Nakiska ski resort, site of the 1988 Olympic Alpine events.

But here’s the deal. It was cold. We were lazy. And The Delta Lodge had already served up a full plate of Christmas activities that we couldn’t resist. We made banana boats and roasted them on a campfire. My daughter wrote a letter to Santa and was delighted to find a response under the door the next morning.

Funny. The only thing they slipped me was the bill.

And there was the Elf Tuck-In Service. IMG 1098

Yes, people. At bedtime, an elf came to snuggle up to my children and read them Christmas stories before tucking them into bed. As I watched my children giggle in wonderment, I had an epiphany: my childhood sucked. Sure, I had love. Sure I had stability. BUT WHERE WAS MY ELF?

But the highlight of the whole trip was when my mom and I skipped out on swimming and played “Merry Christmas Bingo” with Mrs. Claus. I can’t explain it but I have had an unhealthy obsession with Bingo. Jamie banned me from playing on our recent cruise, possibly fearing we’d be in the only ones in there without bifocals and that this was my version of a mid-life crisis.

Turns out, we were the only people in the room without young children. At first, I felt subconscious. What if I actually won? Would my victory be frowned upon by the other children and parents? But then I got caught in the crossfire of a 13-year-old boy’s mini-marshmallow attack. He unapologetically sneered at me. I glared back. And then war was declared.

Rudolph, Santa’s Hat and Wreaths–all these images were on my Bingo card and I became obsessed with covering them with my mini-marshmallow Bingo chips. Mrs. Claus droned on and on until finally, a perfect letter ‘X’ was formed. I momentary paused, savoring the victory yet wondering if I should quietly and modestly announce it.

“MERRRRRRRRY CHRISTMASSSSS!” I ended up shouting.

After all, I have never been quiet or modest about anything.

Turns out the joke was on me. When I went to redeem my prize, the only ones available were for kids 12 and under. I finally snatched up a ceramic piggy bank with accompanying paints, acting like it was just like what I always wanted.

And maybe it was. In fact, I’ll probably even paint it bronze.

I’ll Be Home for Christmas and Evidence I Am the Neglected Middle Child

Christmas is not Christmas unless I am home in Canada. I am fine being away from The Motherland for every other season and holiday but there is something about being home for holidays. Actually, a lot of “somethings” that include a rousing game of bum darts and the Pollock rendition of 12 Days of Christmas.

We may not be politically correct but it’s never boring.

If I had my way, we would go home every Christmas but we alternate locations because I married a man who 1) has family here in Colorado and 2) stubbornly refuses to work for the airlines so I can fly for free.

I had been stressing about this Christmas. With the crummy economy and airline tickets that have been jacked up due to rising fuel costs, it was a very real possibility we would not be able to afford it even though it is our year to go home.

I shopped for tickets back in October and the cheapest I could come up with during peak travel times was $800 + taxes. Multiple that by four and it is equal to more than I make in a month. OK, a year.

I stumbled upon a site that compares all the prices from the leading travel sites and I was able to play around with dates and numbers. At first, I couldn’t get it for under $3,200. But I figured out how to save some money by having the kids and I depart one week earlier than my husband and we would then all fly back together.

The upside: We saved almost $1,000 and gosh darn it, we get to go home for the holidays!

The downsides: We still payed a fortune (more than I make in a decade) and won’t have much money left for presents. But the most dreadful thing of all: there are layovers both ways. And one of those “ways” will involve solo travel with The Children.

If you remember my travel travails of last summer (think bird in the windshield), you will wonder if my head is screwed on straight. It surely is, but it’s just facing the wrong direction.

Nonetheless, after weeks of agonizing about it, I was ecstatic to be going home. I called my mom that night.

“Guess what, Mom. We were able to save some money on airline tickets AND WE’RE COMING HOME FOR CHRISTMAS!”

“Oh really? Is this your year to come?”

The day my daughter and I almost froze to death beside a hot tub

OK, so maybe that title is a wee bit of an exaggeration. More like the day Haddie and I almost lost a few fingers as my two-year-old son Bode watched us as he played chess. Didn’t know a toddler could pass a pawn? Me neither.

A little bit of background: my family recently went to Keystone, which is of the few major resorts in Colorado I had yet to visit since moving here six years ago. I fell in love with the area and am already planning a return trip in January to ski and skate on their huge lake, which boasts the largest Zamboni-maintained outdoor skating rink in North America. And for this Canuck who grew up skating on frozen lakes and rivers, this will surely provide warm memories of my frozen nose hairs.

It was opening weekend for the resort but instead of hitting the slopes, we played in the village and dined at The Bighorn Steakhouse overlooking the lake. The food was delicious, the ambiance refined yet family-friendly and my children miraculously ate every last bite of their dinner. As for me, I am still trying to work off the 5,000 calories I consumed from the huge dessert platter.

We stayed at The Timbers, one of SummitCove’s more luxurious properties. Forget the gourmet kitchen and slope-side views–what really made this condo a winner was their on-site pack-and-play, children’s utensils and dishes, and humidifiers. It was my home away from home.

Or so I wish.

But where was I? Oh yes, back to how we almost froze to death. Our [much nicer] home away from home also included an indoor/outdoor pool, a hot tub with a waterfall and a fire pit. Saturday morning, the kids and I were banging away on the lobby’s grand piano and playing with the chess pieces when I noticed the fire pit outside was lit. And then I got a brilliant idea.

Or so I thought.

The kids and I would dash out there, pose for a picture and rush back in before you could say H-Y-P-O-T-H-E-R-M-I-A. Bode begged off our plan, preferring to stay inside and explore the intricacies of chess. So it was just Haddie and me.

We dashed, we posed and we ran back…to a locked patio door. And imagine my delight to discover my room key did not work. I was in a T-shirt, Haddie was barefoot, it was cold, my husband was blissfully tucked away in our room, we were in an enclosed courtyard and the building was a ghost town.

BodechessThere was only Bode.

Have you ever tried to convince a 2-year-old to interrupt something he is engrossed in to help you? The strategy is completely different than with an older child. There is no threatening that you’ll take the car away. There are no bribes for new toys. There is just begging. And jumping jacks. And more begging.

And his reaction? He smiled. Even laughed. And then he turned back to his chess game.

This carried on for about 15 minutes. I was just about to hop into the hot tub to warm up when he finally grew tired of our cat-and-frozen-mouse game and waddled over to the door. He gave me one last devious smile and opened it.

I didn’t know whether to hug him or smack his insolent little bottom.

I went for the hug.

But have revoked all future driving privileges until he is 80.

(Originally published at Mile High Mamas).

The Great Adventure, Right in Your Backyard

This post was inspired by a curiosity about what you love about where you live. Where are your favorite haunts in your city or town? What do you have on your “to do” list that you have yet to explore? I want to hear about your great adventures, right in your backyard! Do you wish you had more?

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I spent my final semester of college on a study abroad in the Middle East. Our campus was on the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem and we traveled frequently around the region. We floated in the Dead Sea and slept in cabanas by the Sea of Galilee. We roamed through Petra’s ancient wonders in Jordan and we climbed Mount Sinai to witness the sunrise. We marveled at the Great Pyramids and sailed the Nile at sunset.

Upon the completion of my studies, I stopped over in Europe with a few of my friends. We backpacked five countries in two weeks and had the time of our lives. One of our final destinations was Switzerland. We stayed at a hostel inInterlaken, the country’s outdoor Mecca. After a day of rafting the mighty Lütschine, we talked late into the night with some fellow travelers.

One of them was named Ralph. He was charming, athletic and drop-dead gorgeous. He was a mail carrier from Australia who had saved up his money for a year-long adventure abroad. He was going home the next morning. Feeling remorseful about the end of my own travels, I asked him how he thought he would adjust back to his humdrum life after being given a glimpse of the world.

His answer still resonates today:

“Before this trip, I was always planning my next great adventure. It has taken this trip to help me realize there is so much close to home I have yet to experience. My next great adventures will be in my own backyard for many years to come.”

This has become my mantra in life. Sure, I still love to travel. I always will. But there is so much to explore here and now. And two weeks in a row, I have had The Perfect Day right here in Colorado.

creamery can copyA couple of weeks ago, my son Bode and I went to The Children’s Museum. After a morning at play, we went to buy our favorite cookie from their cafe, only to discover it has been discontinued. This sent us on a wild goose chase to discover the birthplace of The Great Cookie at Jay’s Patio Cafe, which is nestled in a funky shopping district in Highland. We spent the next couple of hours exploring this cool area–from Red Door Swingin’, my favorite new shop to visit with my girlfriends, to Little Man Ice Cream, the ultimate ice cream shop housed in a giant creamery can.

Who knew?

Last Thursday, Bode and I opted out of a hike we regularly do in Evergreen to simply walk around Evergreen Lake. I have skated it in the winter, driven past it to access the back country and yet have never walked around it. We strolled the dirt path, climbed the steps to a lookout over the dam, sauntered down Main Street, discovered the Pioneer Trail, threw rocks in the lake, marveled at a Caterpillar dredging sediment out of the river and then dined on the outdoor patio of the Aspen Grill overlooking it all.

The Perfect Day.

I am amazed what I find when I leave my daily routine. Whether I am searching for The Great Cookie or attempting to rediscover The Familiar, I feel fortunate to find it all here in my backyard.

And just as my Australian friend wisely proclaimed so many years ago: wherever you live is your Great Adventure.


To Yellowstone…and Beyond!

In honor of my Western movie lovin’ Grandpa Wilde, I shall dedicate this post about our vacation unto one of his favorite films: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly.

The Good: Staying at our brother-in-law’s cabin in Island Park on the Snake River. Paddling the children to get huckleberry ice cream at Henry’s Fork Landing in our inflatable kayaks.

The Bad: The 7-mile hike to Fairy Falls in Yellowstone pushing the children in the Chariot (which performed marvelously as opposed to our Canadian travails). Then carrying the Chariot over the marsh. Then lugging the children…and the Chariot those final miles.

The Ugly: The revelation that your husband bears an unsettling resemblance to a buffalo in Jackson, WY.

The Good: Watching the kids marvel at Old Faithful, finding a hole-in-the-wall BBQ joint and a fantastic playmill theatre in West Yellowstone.

The Bad: Wandering around West Yellowstone searching for stye medicine.

The Ugly: Finishing Breaking Dawn, only to accuse Hunky Hubby of no longer giving me the kind of vampire love that Edward gives Bella. This spurred his amorous attack that resulted in a bloody and swollen lip. Evidently, human love bites.

The Good: Visiting one of my dearest friends, Jason in Rexburg and reminiscing about the good ol’ days. Chuckling at the fruits of his bachelorhood, which consisted of five dirt bikes in his garage.

The Bad: Hadley getting a scratch on her foot and becoming inconsolable for the rest of the visit.

The Ugly: Attempting to take this picture.

The Good: Hiking mind-numbingly beautiful Jenny Lake outside of Jackson. Without the Chariot but with Sherpa Uncle Chris.

The Bad: This conversation whilst driving through Island Park–

Jamie: Better keep your eye out for some Monopolies going across the road!
Me: Huh?
Jamie: That sign. It said “Game Crossing.”

The Ugly: Missing the pinnacle event of the whole trip while I was back at the cabin with napping Bode. My MIL Linda walked across the dock and she lost her balance. And then time was suspended as this woman–the very epitome of class and grace–landed face-first, spread eagle in the river. Her humiliation was rewarded by her insolent children who were on the ground in hysterics.

I only wish I had been there to show this great matriarch of our family the respect that she deserved.

You know. By taking pictures.

To Utah…and Beyond!

I have officially overdosed on travel. Well, at least until the next trip (which fortunately for me is at least five days away).

Truth be told, I was tired of traveling after my back-to-back Canada and San Francisco fiascoes, only to have to hop in the car a week later and take a huge chunk out of the Western United States.

So, how was it? Exhausting and fun, with an emphasis on the former. And how did the children do after 35+ hours in the car? Amazingly well. Rest assured, the majority of tantrums were thrown by me.

Leg 1 of the trip was a stop in Utah a few days early with the kids and my MIL. I have not been back to Salt Lake City for a few years and I was overwhelmed with love for this great city and my many wonderful memories.

The itinerary? Played in Seven Canyons Fountain with Lori and Co.

Solo hiked Albian Basin at dawn, hung out at Snowbird’s Cliff Spa with former roommmate Kristy (a.k.a. She Who Inspired Me to Start a Blog) and took in the resort’s Rock and Blues Festival.

Admired the crimson sunsets over the Great Salt Lake every night.

Splashed around in Parley’s Creek at Sugar House Park, my old haunting ground.

And last but certainly not least: gorged on The Dodo’s turkey sandwich with secret BBQ sauce (I am a recovering addict) and Cafe Rio’s chicken taco salad. Is The Love of a Salad a good enough reason to move back? Because if it is, I am there.

We stayed with Jamie’s uncle who is the publisher of the city’s newspaper. He and his wife were gracious hosts but picking up after my freeloadin’ children in their museum-of-a-mansion was more upkeep than I am used to in a day year.

But something was unsettling to me. I knew their rug was strangely familiar.


And I just couldn’t place where I had seen something similar….

Until I arrived home.


Join me next time for To Yellowstone…and Beyond and additional confirmation that I am a true blonde.

Chaos Ensues as Johnson and Children Are Grounded in Canada an Extra Day

**PRESS RELEASE**

(Calgary, AB Canada, July 21, 2008) — Amber Johnson made a failed attempt to fly solo with her two children back to Colorado last week and spent an extra day recovering at her parent’s home in Calgary.

“I thought the flight to Calgary was bad enough,” Johnson grimaced. “I mean, it was such a headache when they lost Bode’s reservation and we then got stuck in the plane on the runway for hours on end. I thought it could not get worse.”

Sadly for this mother of two, it did. Johnson showed up at the Calgary airport with Hadley (age 4) and Bode (age 2). All went smoothly with check-in and security, after which time Johnson set the children loose to play in the terminal’s play area.

What happened next will go down in the record books as the worst luck ever experienced at an airport within a week. “It was boarding time and we leisurely made our way back to our gate,” Johnson said. “That is when they told me a bird hit the windshield of our plane, causing it to divert and land in another city. Our flight was canceled indefinitely.”

Johnson says instead of rebooking their flight, Canadian law required them to go back through Canadian customs, retrieve all their luggage, drag it across the airport, battle all the other passengers trying to find another flight at United’s check-in and then go through the entire process of U.S. Customs and security again. All this with the #%&#* Chariot stroller in tow.

Johnson did not make it past check-in. “All the flights out were booked that day,” Johnson blubbered. “We managed to get a flight the next morning at the crack of dawn which, in some weird twist of fate, my parents were on as well because they were flying through Denver to visit my brother in New Jersey. At least I had a support system the second time around.”

When asked if she would ever fly solo again with the children, Johnson turned pale, exhaled deeply and replied, “No comment.”

Oh, and if you are ever tempted to proclaim, “It’s a bird! It’s a plane!” in Johnson’s presence?

Please don’t.

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When a Colorado Mommy Blogger Does Canada

We are flying back to Colorado today. As always, I love coming home to the Motherland and Calgary is my favorite city in the world. The temperatures have been gloriously mild and I could spend my entire summer here if it did not mean being apart from Jamie for so long. When I made this suggestion, he jokingly suggested we could arrange conjugal visits in Wyoming.

Because really, what else is there to do in Wyoming?

This trip has been cram-packed with walks along my beloved Bow River Pathway with my dad, illegally cruising the neighborhood in my parent’s golf cart, marathon makeovers with Grandma B., lazy summer nights at My Favorite Ice Cream Shoppe, a day trip to Elbow Falls with Aunt Sue and of course, the Calgary Stampede! Some other highlights include:

Sleeping in! My kids are both early risers and I generally can’t sleep past 5:30 a.m. But this trip, the kids slept until at least 8 a.m., which is a huuuge coup. The secret? My parent’s gloriously dark and cold basement, both of which are clear reflections on my personality.

My parent’s backyard. This has evolved into a gloriously verdant paradise of overhanging trees with 10 patio tables and swings interspersed in romantic nooks around the yard and a huge deck to kick back and enjoy it all.

Growing up, our huge backyard was the Mecca for every kid in the area with a half-pipe, fort, trampoline, play set and more. We were also at constant war with our neighbors who actually pulled a gun on some of my brother’s friends when we were on vacation. Of course, maybe that Swastika my brother’s friends anonymously burned on our neighbor’s lawn may have had something to do with it.

Hadley getting her ears pierced. Or at least making the attempt. During our family tradition of going out for Chinese food, my sister-in-law Jane decided it was in Hadley’s best interest to get her ears pierced. I was rather indifferent about it and Hadley was game…until she saw The Devil’s Gun that was aimed at her virgin lobe. I’ll spare you the details but an hour later, we emerged from that store with a traumatized mother and a hysterical kid who only got half an ear pierced. Possibly a new fashion statement?

Peter’s Drive-In’s marshmallow shake. Sure, this very shake caused an outbreak of salmonella a few years ago but it’s not like I didn’t just survive that little ol’ poisoning a few weeks ago. And besides, lightening doesn’t strike in the same place twice.

Err…right?