Summer 2022

There is something infinitely satisfying about teaching a kid how to ride a bicycle. Right around Christmas, on a chilly, dreary, but dry day, we got Margaret off her balance bike and onto a big girl one. Her smile radiated across her face after she realized what she had done with a push and a cheer from her Mom. 

The progression to the pure cold and snow of winter, then the driving rain of spring kept her off her bike for a couple months. But when the sun came out again she progressed from wobbly and insecure, with stops and starts and pushes along the way, to fearless, fast, and free. Her newfound ability gave her wings, the chance to see the neighborhood at a new altitude, reach new speeds, and bob and weave as Bobby's ferocious follower. 

Her little pink bike graduated from a favorite toy to her most respected form of transportation this summer.  Every time we go to the pool, I watch her still soft little legs peddle up and down, up and down. Her four-year-old-ness so round, loveable, and squeezable. It's one of my favorite images of this summer - one I haven't been able capture on camera, because she keeps going faster and faster, just like life.  

For many reasons this summer isn't like any other. There is a fleeing, fleeting nature to it. And I'm clued in, locked in on trying to slow irretrievable velocity. 

Within this idyllic midwestern summer landscape, my kids have plumped my heart with pride over the past several months. While the kids biking, tic tac toe, three in a row, Bobby leading the way, to the pool each day, is the blissful image I will always associate with this summer, there are so many more. Ones that I actually caught on camera.  

At the beginning, it was Bobby and Margaret finishing up their soccer season, then Bobby playing coach pitch baseball, dressed in his white sox uniform, swinging away and aiming for the street. 

   

Margaret was sharp and on beat in her dance recital, stealing the show with her unmasked smile.  

   

There were visitors too. Aunt Barb and Uncle Jim, Aunt Meghan, Aunt Erin and Uncle Joe, and my parents. We celebrated cancelled and diverted flights, Father's day, birthdays, togetherness, and last hurrahs on Sunset.

The twins, gained comfort in the baby pool, then received yellow floaties on a late July Amazon shipment. They have been loving life in full float in the big pool. 

And there was all the rest of the swimming. God I was proud of the kids doing the swim team this year. Their matching team suits. Their early morning dedication to all four strokes and countless laps. Their competitive spirit and their desire to root for each other. I learned how to be a timer. I hugged their wet little bodies when they came out of the pool after their races. I released my anxiety about how much time we were spending at swim meets and instead soaked it up.  

They didn't make conference though. That was a big deal. As awesome as they were in my mind, they were not as good as the junior Olympic contenders and kids that were allegedly still 10, but looked closer to 18, in their division. Bobby took it well - he didn't really care. But I had to coach Mary through the rejection. I told her to stick with it. That she had only been swimming for a year. In comparison, these other kids had been swimming since they were 5 or 6. That she was the youngest in her division. That she was smaller than the kid that was 5'10. I told her they would surely burn out by 13 or 14. So stick with it. You got it. You'll beat 'em then! It's about the long game - endurance. For a big thinker like Mary, this made sense, despite my lackluster parenting skills.  

   

Swimming wasn't enough to fill their days, so they played a lot of tennis too. Their hair and neon shirts drenched with sweat as the midday sun beat down on them. There was a time they couldn't find their tennis shoes. Left in a car, or under their bed, or buried in a Lego bin. Eva gave them their sandals and socks to wear instead. They were called out as suspect, but still played - likely a little slower and sandier than previous attempts, but they got my moneys worth. They made progress and Peter and I paired up with them for the parent / child tournament. There were legit rallies and points and pride as I saw I didn't have to cover the whole court for my partner. My vision of actually being able to play with them one day coming a little more into focus.  

Fourth of July at the Club was one of those perfectly joyous evenings where you can imagine how much fun you could be having if you didn't have twins running in opposite directions, getting too hungry, then too tired to stay up and play, party, and partake in the fireworks. I left that party more exhausted than exhilarated, but the rest of the people there looked like they were loving every second. 

         

Let me just stay on those babies. Well not babies anymore, toddlers and almost two year-olds. Such a cute age. They have been in speech therapy since the spring because their twindom has prompted a delay in their words. While I was skeptical about the whole thing, I've come to the conclusion that it's working. They've made gains; going from saying nothing or not much at all to meaningful core words and more, even piecing together two and three words here and there. Right now their favorite word, in keeping with the majority share of activities this summer, is pool. Go pool. Go pool. Go outside pool. Ms. Trish the speech therapist is so pleased.  

There are mere weeks left though. All this summer sweetness is going to come crashing to a close. All those people telling me it goes by too fast will be right. Spot on. As the zip away, I want the three older ones to peddle backward so I can see them bike those blocks to the pool one more time.

I'm not going to share the next step and talk about the move right now. It's too much, and I need to save the emotion for another blog entry on another day too close to now. For now, I'm still focused on the beauty of here and now, and on Margaret's legs peddling up and down, up and down, bobbing her head to the soundtrack of our summer. 

Lo. 

     

The Crew

About a month ago, I started a new chapter in my career. After 13 years in various marketing functions within my company, I decided to pursue an operations track that would enable me to lead a division within the Field.  

As I start this first experiment writing about a weighty, risky decision that Peter and I made, I realize there are multiple ways I could go. So many thoughts and topics to reflect on. But today, I'm choosing to journal about the past month of training. Friday wrapped up the first segment of a five-month program that will take me through all the functions within the Field. This first installation took me into the restaurant. An attempt to get me fully comfortable with the true business of our business.    

That meant putting on an apron, visor, no slip shoes and a crew shirt, learning how to prep, cook, assemble, and serve our food and beverages to customers, learning how to use the register, take orders, and cash out as quickly as possible, and learning how to move the drive thru faster, run food out to guests with complicated orders, deal with an angry customer who was waiting too long, and then not let said customer ruin the rest of your day. Eventually, I learned how to lead - how to run an area of the restaurant, then a shift, and then how to lead the restaurant at large. I graduated on Friday by no means an expert, but very competent in how things work. Which I'm proud of.  

The training program was guided by a regimented schedule, accompanied by online workshops, and supported through many of the Crew and Managers at the restaurant. I learned a ton. And each week, I wrote a recap to our senior leadership team, so they could understand what I was learning and what I was taking away. If I put all those recaps together, there would be a 20 page exhibit to read through. So instead, I'll recap the recaps. That is, deliver the key highlights. And after that, share some themes that I will carry forward as I lead.  

1. My arrival. 

On my first day, I arrived ready to go mentally, but physically speaking, things went awry. I had pulled out my no slip shoes from when I worked at Eleven Contemporary Kitchen, years ago. More specifically, 18 years ago. I wore a white tee since I hadn't received my uniform shirt yet, and a pair of black pants. And I walked into the restaurant to find my guide for this leg of the operations journey. He was in the lobby, sitting at a high top table, so I moseyed over and sat at a stool across from him. We introduced ourselves, went through the plan, had a couple laughs, and then the GM and Supervisor came over to orient me with the restaurant. No, they didn't have a uniform shirt for me, but I would get one tomorrow. Just as they said, okay, you ready to come behind the counter, I stood up and realized there was dirt all around where I was sitting. Dirt, in the middle of a perfectly clean lobby. At closer examination, and feeling a little wobbly on my feet, I noticed that it wasn't dirt, but the material from the bottom of my shoes. They had disintegrated while I was sitting there, resting my feet on the bars of the stool. I was mortified. The GM called Ruben the maintenance man to come over and sweep up. I wanted to dive over and get the broom before him and clean up my own mess, but he insisted. I went home and changed, ordered some new no slip shoes from Amazon, and prayed that this first impression wouldn't impact the rest of this experience. Highlight number one. I didn't feel any judgment. 

2. In the kitchen. 

After my unfortunate first morning, I got to work in the kitchen, largely trained by a tenured Crew person named Herman. He taught me how to assemble sandwiches at breakfast and at lunch. He taught me how to grill eggs, bacon, breakfast steak and sausage in the morning, then burgers in the afternoon. He taught me how to drop fried products. How to toast buns. And how to do everything as fast as possible. He was patient with me, kind to me, and ever filled with care for the customer he was making the food for. He rode his bike 8 miles a day to get to and from the restaurant, seven days a week. He's worked there for 30 years and has passed up leadership positions, because he likes his hours, and the work he does. It's simple and enjoyable. And that's what he wants. Highlight number two. Understanding the hard and humble work of the kitchen Crew. But also the joy they find in it. 

3. Order assembly and service. 

At the end of the prep line, on the other side of the kitchen, stands the service staff who together, make the beverages, assemble the individual components into the meal, scoop the fries, take the orders, deliver them to the customers, and then talk to them about everything from how they are enjoying their meal to how they are celebrating Star Wars day. One might think there was a separate person for each of these tasks given the amount of customers we serve, and the speed at which we do things. But the majority of the time, people are doing two or three of these jobs at once. For example, the person making beverages is also always taking orders in the drive thru. Or the person assembling for the drive thru, is also moving fries from fryer to heated bin, salting them, and them scooping them to complete the meal and hand it over to the presenter in the drive-thru window. Or, as Rosa in the cashier window does so flawlessly, takes cash at the same time that she takes orders, all under 15 seconds. The crew doing these jobs are sophisticatedly fast, they can predict each others movements, they immediately fill in where they see a gap, and they compensated time and time again for my errors, voiding mistakes before the customer could get too upset. Highlight number 3: the impressive and nearly error-proof multi-tasking that enables the speed of our business. 

4. Customer care. 

In the service industry, the customer is always right. And if you were dealing with a business model where you only see 50 to 100 customers a day, I would have no problem sucking it up, and moving on. I worked in a restaurant where we served 120 customers per hour in the drive thru alone. And statistically speaking, it's almost impossible to get every order perfectly right. So, I saw a fair share of customers complaining. And right or wrong, there complaints could be brutal. A woman threw down a bowl of salad on the counter, and begrudgingly asking if I would eat it? (There was one piece of lettuce with a brown edge, and yes, I would have eaten it.) A man yelled at me for not ringing up his order the right way, telling the GM that 'I told her it was a meal!' People were incredibly frustrated that I couldn't punch in their order at the speed they were telling it to me. And people came up to me, and complained about other members of the Crew. Highlight number 4: Customer care, in an environment where the customers don't always seem to care can be incredibly challenging. 

5. Language barriers. 

I worked in a bilingual restaurant, which is probably an overstatement. It was in reality a Spanish speaking restaurant, with me and two others as the dominant English speakers. I don't speak Spanish, and there were times, when it was tough to communicate, to learn, and to avoid hiccups in our processes. There was a time when I got so frustrated, I signed 'more' as I would to the twins. It was out of habit, but I found myself relying on gestures and masked facial expressions to convey what needed to be done and when. I can see how challenging this would be for a significant portion of our restaurants, where this is the reality. And realized we have to find ways to better bridge the language gap. Beyond language, it was a cultural education. Highlight number 5: I left the restaurant with some new phrases in my Spanish vocabulary, with an appreciation for Mexican music which I listened to every day in the kitchen, for the familial nature of the people I worked with, and with utmost appreciation for their desire to welcome me into their community. 

I could go on, but these were the highlights in my learning journey. These experiences bubbled up into themes, that I think are important to acknowledge, recognize, and reward in the future. They are things that I will take into the next steps of my journey, and particularly, when I take the reigns as a leader. 

- First, the job is hard. The people working at the restaurant, from the entry level employee up through the general manager, work their butts off every single day. It's humble work, and sometimes humiliating work, and they do it with a smile on their face. The people that work in service are heroes. And we ought to thank them more often for all they do. 

- With that in mind, customers - before you don frustration and fury at your local crew, reflect on the job they are doing. Grilling for 8 hours a day in a hot kitchen, making sandwiches at lightening speed, reading through ten orders at a time at the front counter to build yours to specification, making the fries fresh, putting the whipped cream on your mocha, all while thinking through what their future might hold - how they could earn a college degree, if they will have a chance for a job in management, if there is an easier way for the next generation. 

- And finally, as a company person, who was in and out of kitchens for eight years, and who just this past month, truly understood what it feels like to be in the restaurant, I have a word of caution. We have to get closer to the restaurants. On a continued basis. Yes, we were hired as MBAs, PHDs, MSAs and JDs, but in order for us to build the right strategies and make the right decisions, as smart as we all think we are, we need to understand the true business of our business.  

Tomorrow, I start the next part of my journey which is an understanding of how to visit, coach, and support the restaurants and our franchisees. This next month, should be equally eye-opening and rewarding.  

Lo.   

A Disney Profile

At 6:00 AM, I thought I would be the only one in line for coffee at the Swan every morning. It's a vacation destination after all, and I thought the majority of people at the resort would be sleeping in. For me though, it was Convention week. The first in four years. A reunion of 12,000 people that required long days and long nights. Early morning doses of caffeine were more than necessary. 

6:00 AM on the nose, I was first to cross the starting line, and I sauntered up to the counter. Quickly, I realized I was the only one with such a lackadaisical attitude toward my breakfast. I paused to assess if I should get Cheerios or Raisin Bran and felt a sense of pressure on my back. The man behind me scooted by to be first at the register. He knew his baked goods and coffee order before he arrived in Orlando. And then a woman behind him also made her way past me to close out her sale in second place. I came in a meager third in this early morning transaction race.  

I stepped to the condiment bar to assess the competition. As I topped off my coffee with cream and sugar, I looked around the lobby. Double strollers ready to go, Type A Dad and Type A Mom force feeding croissants to children still rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, plotting and planning the route for the day, rotating their Magic Bands in an unnerving way, hyping everyone up for a day they had been dreaming about for years. 

Oh my goodness, this wasn't a vacation, this was an Olympic event for these people. After Convention, my family was coming down to do our Disney experience and I worried if we had the chops to compete in the nation's most expensive sport - Disney Vacationing.  

After five days navigating the Orange County Convention Center, Peter, Eva, and the five kids flew into land locked Florida to start part 2 of my trip. Disney World.

After witnessing the way families prepare in the morning, leaving their rooms at daybreak with sleepy kids in their strollers, walking then breaking into a jog so they can be first in line for the Parks, debating once again their path of least to resistance to see and ride as much as possible, and yelling at the stragglers to keep up; I was convinced that the Disney experience had reached a new level of crazy. And I didn't feel like our family stood a chance at winning the most magical Disney World experience award. 

Considering the line up - the players involved in America's most beloved vacation - I could see we were the underdog. 

- There was the matching shirt crew. 

- The Type A Mom and along for the ride Dad with two kids 

- The Type A Dad and along for the ride Mom with two kids 

- The more mature family with teenage kids who knew the route to success better than their parents

- The family with all the gear for the day: personalized Magic Bands, water bottles and snacks, umbrellas and ponchos, cold and warm weather gear, mobile maps and compasses, they practically had tents in the event they were welcomed to spend the night.  

- There were the Bachelorette women  

- The honeymooners 

- The early birds 

- The night owls 

- The ones just in it for the snacks, turkey legs, and all you can eat buffets. 

- The thrill seekers

- The show watchers 

- The princess followers

- And all the people dressed as Star Wars characters - one of which proposed to Rey as she appeared in Tatooine.   

... And then ... then ...  there was our oversized family. Trying to get into each park with our Magic Mobile device (which turned out to be less magical than a band or a card at the entrance gate) and the kids' finger prints that never seemed to light up green on the first try. Type A Dad and honeymooner couple both asked to move around us. We were a clear impediment to winning their most magical day. 

Once inside the Magic Kingdom, we were excited to learn that staying on Property meant that you could get into the rides earlier. I felt like such a winner in this moment. Around the Cinderella's Castle we went, smiles on fire. Only to reveal on the other side that the whole world was apparently also staying on property, stacking up lines that were 45 minutes deep already.  

We decided to divide and conquer - Peter took Bobby to Tomorrow Land, and I took the girls to Fantasy Land. In total, our party did about 8 rides in 3 hours, which I thought was very admirable. Less admirable was waiting in three different lines for highly desirable and highly overpriced snacks that my kids didn't even eat. By 11:00 the park was filling up quickly, so we moved from a slow roll, into a push people out of the way to get to our lunch reservation roll. The meal was an all you can eat buffet at the Crystal Palace - a mock version of the one from the 1851 World's Fair. It's safe to say, Peter won this event - and that's saying something given the cruise ship riding clientele who were dining with us. Our only flaw, well my flaw to be precise, was walking out without paying. I was called back in the middle of the princess parade to give them my credit card so I wouldn't end up in Sheriff Nottingham's jail. 

We made it through one more ride at the Magic Kingdom, and then bussed back to our hotel. I had big plans for us to come back in the evening, dine on Main Street and watch the fireworks, but we didn't make it back. The pool and a sushi dinner were more appealing than the alternative of crowds and lines and babies that likely would have cried through all of it. 

After the Magic Kingdom day, we did Hollywood Studios and Epcot as well. We likely didn't execute the visits as efficiently and effectively as the majority of site seers in Orlando, but for our family, it was magical nonetheless. 

Magical because Mary got to eat really expensive frozen lemonade, step inside the world of Harry Potter, which she's been reading about for years, and explore every country in Epcot, collecting postcards at each stop. 

Magical because Margaret got to meet all the princesses and Minnie Mouse, sing along to Frozen on stage, and cry and then laugh her way on the runaway railroad that was Big Thunder Mountain. 

Magical because Caroline and Jacqueline came back knowing the word Olaf after meeting him. They couldn't say Lightening McQueen, but they loved that experience too. Miraculously, they also touched a lot of dirty surfaces without getting sick. 

Magical because Bobby rode all the rides he could - Star Tours, the Millenium Falcon, Rocking Roller Coaster, Space Mountain, and Star Tours again and again and again. He got to make his own light saber, have a steak dinner at the Brown Derby with me, and dig in the sand on the faux beach at our hotel. If there was anyone who appreciated Disney the way I do, it was Bobby, and I loved sharing that with him. 

And perhaps most magical of all, because I caught Peter sneaking in pictures of Chewy, Mos Eisley, and the Star Troopers - maybe taking a step closer to understanding why people, like me, love Disney World so much.

 

It was absolutely exhausting and energizing at the same time. And the collection of pictures and memories made the money spent worth it. See, the most magical trick of Disney.   

   

If you want tips, I don't have a better one than you do you. That is, make the most of it at the pace your family can handle - don't worry about any other players in the Disney World rat race - because at the end of the day, just a little bit of pixie dust makes any kid fly.  

Lo. 

Mary Unmasked

A couple weeks ago, mask mandates were lifted at school. For the first time in two years my kids went into their classrooms to breath fresh air, see the faces of their classmates, speak without shouting through a face covering, and reveal their bright smiles. 

With Covid numbers dramatically decreasing and with vaccinations, I was and am in a different position on masking than early on in the pandemic. That is, I had no hesitation letting all three of them go sans mask. And their ease, excitement, and energy to live life unmasked confirmed my decision.  

That same day, I also had the opportunity to volunteer in Mary's classroom, hosting their classroom's Valentine's Day party. It was an easy thing to do - a simple story reading, a craft connected with the narrative, and then a couple games. It went just as expected, except something threw me off. Or rather someone. It was Mary. The Mary I knew from a couple years ago. Smiling, giggling, coming up to her friends and telling them something, giving me a hug halfway through the event. It was sociability, connectedness, and confidence - all things that Mary had said she was concerned about in the past year. 

I left the classroom that day happy that I had carved out some time to volunteer, but happier that I experienced an uptick in Mary's mood.  

That evening, I told Peter about the party and the very different daughter I observed in class. 'You should have seen her,' I said to him. 'I don't think she has any issues socializing.' 

Without pause Peter replied, "it's because she's not wearing a mask."

I stood there in disbelief for a second. How did I not think about that? Of course. If I can trace back the development of Mary feeling more shy, more concerned, more house bound than the rest of my kids, it was the start of the Pandemic. The lockdowns, the distance between one human and another, the face shields we all put up to protect ourselves and others. Not knowing that these precautions could have a detrimental impact on a person's mental well being. 

In the last three weeks, in a world unmasked, I have witnessed Mary become more confident, excited about school, in touch with her friends, willing to go on playdates, and in love with life. As the schools relaxed their mask mandates, so did work, so did businesses, so did cities big and small. With unmasking, other Covid era rules started to relax as well. For instance, I was in Sun Valley a couple weekends ago, and at church there were hymnals. Actual hymnals! I haven't held one and sang from it in two years. We also exchanged the sign of peace - not just a wave from across the aisle, but a true shake of the hand. It's small things, but they make me feel more human.    

Anyway, back to Mary. She turned nine this week. NINE! Nine years since I became a mom for the first time. Nine years since Peter and I became a parental unit. Nine years of Mary growing and learning in this world, becoming the beautiful little lady that she is. And those are three words that really perfectly describe her. 

- Beautiful. Inside and out. She is aware of her image at this age and loves when I let her wear a little bit of make up and do her hair. She loves clothes and shoes, particularly when they are purchased by Nana at Little's. And she loves sharing her trade secrets with her little sister. But her beauty runs deep. She has a kind, compassionate heart. She asks questions and makes comments that show how much she cares.   

- Little. She is petite and still growing into a size 8. Seeing her swim competitively this winter, against girls two times her size, showed just how mighty her petite frame is though. And while she wants to be grown up at times, she still very much loves being a child. She needs hugs, and care, and someone to help her, and isn't afraid to ask for those things. 

- Lady. She is mature for her age, an old soul as our neighbor calls her, and ever my big helper. At 8 and now 9, she's done so much for me around the house; helping with the babies, pitching in with cooking and sometimes cleaning, shepherding her younger siblings, testing out the world before they have to, and coaching them on her experiences. 

And we celebrated her last weekend and into this week, hosting dinner and a sleep under for some of her friends, inviting the family over for her favorite meal (which took hours to make on Sunday), taking her out to Sushi, just me and Peter, just as we did on the day she was born. Sushi and champagne will always be the meal that commemorates not only the day Mary was born, but the day we became a family. 

Happy birthday Mary, I love you so much. 

Mommy / Lo. 

Park City

Last weekend, I wasn't necessarily looking forward to going on a vacation. People kept asking if I was excited, and the only answer I could muster was a hazy, lazy, unconvincing, 'yep.' 

As I reluctantly answered with an affirmative, there was a list of things that could potentially go wrong tallying in my mind. Swirling and whirling, they were stressing me out, making me consider whether or not right here at home is the place to stay forever.  

Let's see: 

- The flight could be cancelled. Or just delayed for hours ... and hours ... and hours. 

- The babies could get sick, ear infections to be specific. We would fly across the country with wailing piercing through the aisle.

- Worse, we could all get Covid. Or just be directly exposed, forced to quarantine on the ground in pure boredom for the next five days. 

- My parents wouldn't be able to get there in time or at all, siting Covid or winter storms. 

- I would lose my fight for the last remaining mini van at the rental car agency. (well that did happen, and then there was a car with a flat tire offered to us, and then they tried to over charge us for the last remaining car that vaguely resembled my Honda Odyssey.) 

- Peter and I would spontaneously combust from all the schlepping and luggage carrying. 

- Something could go wrong with the house reservation. Or the crib rental. 

- Our ski passes and ski lessons wouldn't register when we hit the mountain, and we would have to recommit another fortune to securing our right to ski. 

In the era of Covid, in a world with 17-month old twins, with unpredictability everywhere I turn, my expectations are at a very unreasonable, but perhaps relatable level. The notion of going on vacation seems almost foreign to me at times and looking forward to one seems like a lost cause. 

I also have a bit of anxiety these days about leaving home in the first place. That is, leaving routine, leaving what's working and fearing that a vacation will throw everything and everyone off. (As my daughter wails in the background, too tired from five days of a lot of activity.)  

But somehow, maybe because of the reason for the vacation, all the things that could go wrong, went right. After arriving and sleeping well on Wednesday night, after saying goodbye to my parents, Caroline and Jacqueline at our rental house the next morning, after dropping Mary and Bobby at their ski lesson, after giving Margaret a hug and wishing her luck at ski school, after the lift attendant checked our ski passes and they did indeed work, Peter and I rose up the mountain. I looked at him and said out loud, 'oh my goodness, we did it.' Whether or not Peter was thinking the same thing the whole time, he gave me a look that confirmed his disbelief.

We were on vacation. We made it happen. After all the looks in the airport signaling how crazy we were as parents, we proved them all wrong. And it felt absolutely amazing. Even better when the wind was beating against me as I flew down the mountain. And better yet when we had a glass of champagne at lunch. Every day we were there brought new memories and new moments that were worth the schlep, that proved that vacations were back and that I needed to take them. We collected photos skiing with the kids, using the hot tub for apres ski, going up and down the mountain with my Dad for the first time in six years, laughing with my Mom and thanking her gratuitously for babysitting the twins, watching the Olympics all together, and not worrying about work. At least not that much. 

As we left Park City on Sunday morning, driving down the mountain, back into Salt Lake City. My eyes welled up a bit. It went too fast. Bobby was asking if we could ski right now. And it would be at least another year until we were skiing out west again. As the four in the back of my car fell asleep - yes, there were two cars - remember, I lost the fight for the minivan - I thought about the images I had from them on vacation, outside of their routine, outside of pandemic life. 

Bobby skiing fiercely down blues and even a black diamond. 

Mary going from deathly afraid of the steep, long pitch of Silver Skis and Payday, to following my turns all the way down the hill, proud as can be as she got back to the base both times. 

Margaret riding the lift up with me, smiling from ear to ear, and then holding on to my hand all the way down the hill. 

The babies getting to play with their Nana and Opa throughout vacation - getting quality time with their grandparents in such a beautiful place. 

And Peter and I getting to share in an activity that we both love so much. Seeing our kids embrace it as well. Plotting and planning when we could go back. 

So that's why we do it - why we waddle through airports, stuff luggage carts to the brim, wrestle babies who won't nap for three and a half hours on the plane, spend the money, say some prayers, and go on adventures. Because the stories we come back with, colored by the effort it took to create them, are what I live for. And what I'm celebrating today. 

Lo.