Roma!!!!

We arrived in Rome on August 15 and boarded the cruise on the 17th. We had about 2 1/2 days to cram in the biggest and best that the Eternal City had to offer.

After Wayne, Sherra, and I made it to our hotel, we decided to rest a bit and get cleaned up, then take in a few sights. We underestimated our jet lag, because our short cat naps turned into several hours. It felt sooooo good to get some sleep! We spoke with the hotel clerk who recommended a nearby restaurant, and then it was a short walk to Trevi Fountain.


Gavin still had not arrived, but he came in sometime while we were at dinner. We walked to the fountain, threw in our obligatory coins, and enjoyed some gelato.

The Journey Begins

Me and Sherra at Stazione Termini (Rome's main train station) after nearly 18 hours of travel. Aren't I a sight for sore eyes? Loved my suitcase, but those wheels didn't last 5 minutes on the cobblestone streets.

One year ago today I flew to Rome. I figure it's about time I blog about my absolutely fantabulous-10-day Mediterranean Cruise-plus 6 more days in Italy-sans kiddos-vacation extravaganza.

In order to maximize the time Gavin had off from work (we took nearly all of his vacation days in one full swoop for this trip), I had to take the kids to Utah so he could work a few more days. We booked our flights such that we would meet up at JFK and fly to Rome together. Gavin's dad and stepmom were also joining us, but they were flying from Denver and meeting us in Rome.

Sometimes the best laid plans don't work out exactly as planned. I was flying from Salt Lake to JFK the same time Gavin was supposed to be flying from Seattle to JFK. Well, he slept through his alarm and got to the airport just a smidge late. When he checked in, they didn't bother to tell him his flight had been delayed until he got to the gate. By the time he turned all the way around to go back to ticketing and rebook, he had missed the next best flight. Of course I boarded my flight before finding out his plans, and then I was sitting in JFK while he was still in the air.

It was tricky, but I eventually figured out that he was rerouted through Salt Lake (imagine that?!?) and Paris and would arrive in Rome about 8 hours after us. Wayne and Sherra were supposed to get there only 20 minutes after I did, but their flight was also delayed. After many long hours of flying, I was alone in the Rome airport for 2-3 hours until Wayne and Sherra got there.

We had decided beforehand that if anyone was delayed more than 2 hours, they were on their own. Since I was the only one who spoke the language, I figured I'd wait a little longer and get at least three of us to the hotel. It turned out to be fine since my luggage didn't show up for at least a few hours anyway. (Aaaah, the beauty of international travel . . .)

Most major airports in the United States are pretty comfy when it comes to sitting around and waiting. Not in Rome. I was lucky to find a hard wire bench to sit on. I didn't know it yet (the cruise ship doc would confirm it later), but I had bronchitis with a horrible cough and barely any voice at all. My throat was extremely irritated, and guess what? No water fountains in the Rome airport. No little food court or kiosks either until you leave security. There were vending machines, but I didn't have any euro yet. I finally found an ATM to get cash without paying a crazy surcharge for the exchange rate and bought my first aranciata (Italian orange soda--definitely worth trying, Costco actually sells it).

You know what though? Even with the jet-lag, flight delays, missed communications with my husband, sore throat, etc.--none of this mattered because I was in Italy.

ITALY!! This was the second time I'd been back since my mission. A part of me comes alive when I return to my bella Italia. There is no other way to describe it. I feel whole.

As we were planning and anticipating this trip, Gavin and I often referred to it as the 'vacation of a lifetime.' While that is still true, it only took a few moments back on Italian soil for me to realize that there would be many, many more such vacations in our lifetime.

Deception Pass and Tulips

On the way home from Vancouver, we made a quick detour to take in a few Washington sites. Our children (led by none other than Little Miss Super Sass AKA the Diva of Drama) were extremely disappointed that we weren't actually moving to Canada (where in the world did they get that idea?), or at the very least driving further north to Olympic venues. We promised they would be happy with what we had planned.


After all the precious passengers caught a few ZzzZzZs, morale was much improved--thank goodness. We drove to Deception Pass which connects the Puget Sound with the Strait of Juan de Fuca. I'd heard about it several times since moving here, but never ventured out there. While the enormity of it freaked me out a bit, the overall experience did not disappoint.

Just in case you want to know the history--I sure thought it was interesting.

We started out by hiking down from the small parking lot to the water. As always, the kids had fun throwing rocks in while Gavin demonstrated his awesome rock-skipping skills. We hiked back up to the top (mainly because Aubrey urgently needed to use the restroom--no surprise there), and crossed the bridge. This is the part that scared the bajeebers out of me.

Narrow bridge + 3 crazy kids + looooooong way to the bottom = one nervous mama.

It was a fun little side-trek, and definitely gorgeous. Good thing Washington offers such beautiful scenery, it almost redeems itself for the otherwise cruddy weather.

After making it safely back to the car (phew!!), we continued on to Skagit County and the Tulip Festival. We went there last year, so we made this an abbreviated trip. The tulip fields are phenomenal in full bloom, no matter how many times I see them.

Umm, apparently they missed the memo about not picking the flowers. I'm hopeful these were the ones already on the ground . . .

Truth be told, all I really wanted was to find this amazing road-side produce stand I'd heard so much about. And not for the produce, mind you. They are famous for their grapefruit-sized ice cream scoops on top of homemade waffle cones. Yeah, that sounds like my kind of gig (drool).

Unfortunately, they were closed before we could get there. Looks like I'll be going to the Tulip Festival again next year . . .

I Love to See the Temple

One of my favorite Primary songs has always been 'I Love to See the Temple.' I especially love the second verse. I remember many, many times going running by the Provo Temple in college or the Bountiful Temple near my parent's home. As it happened, running entirely around the temple was part of my route, and every time the words to the song came back to me:

I love to see the temple. I'm going there someday
To feel the Holy Spirit, to listen and to pray.
For the temple is a House of God, a place of love and beauty.
I'll prepare myself while I am young; this is my sacred duty.
I love to see the temple. I'll go inside someday.
I'll covenant with my Father, I'll promise to obey.
For the temple is a holy place where we are sealed together.
As a child of God, I've learned this truth: A family is forever.

I didn't have the chance to attend a temple open house when I was younger. The church wasn't building as many temples then, and we certainly never lived close to one. In college, my roommates and I drove to San Diego for the open house, and it was just as beautiful as I had always imagined.

With temple building going on in earnest the past several years, there have been more opportunities to visit various temples, and I definitely wanted my children to experience it for themselves.

In July 2008, I visited family in Utah and my mom drove back to Washington with me. Unbeknownst to us, the open house for the Twin Falls, Idaho temple was going on, and we drove right on by. Last summer, we barely missed the Oquirrh Mountain, Utah temple open house in August. So when I found out about the Vancouver, Canada temple open house in April, I made sure not to miss out again.

The kids were on Spring break, so that part was easy. We already has passports, so crossing the border was no big deal either. I found an awesome hotel for FREE*, and it included breakfast AND an indoor pool--our only hotel criteria. What's more, the pool had a two-story water slide. The kids were going to love it!

The only down side was that Gavin didn't have any leave time since we used it all up on our cruise. I could either wait for him to get off work and be stuck in Seattle traffic for hours and hours (time otherwise spent on the waterslide), or leave without him. I chose the latter, and since I'm a genius, I found a way for him to take a train and a bus and join us after work.

{Oh, yes I did. Before you think I'm a shmuck for putting my hard-working hubby on public transit while journeying across an international border, know this: he was thrilled to have the extra study time. That's my man!}

I've learned from experience not to tell my kids about an upcoming trip, however great or small. The main reason is because I don't want them to 'help' pack. It's also kind of fun to surprise them. So Friday morning was just like any other day off from school--we went to a storytelling sound-effects guy at the library, had the oil changed, and hit the open road.

The kids did great in the car. It was about a 2 1/2 hour drive, and we stopped midway for lunch. They were thrilled to be going to another country (!!!), and Aubrey insisted we take pictures at the border.

I know you just want to start belting out the Canadian national anthem. 'O, Canada!! Our home and native land . . . '

The jumbo-sized water slide did not disappoint. The freezing water in the pool, however, was a big disappointment. And, as luck would have it, the hot tub was closed. Bummer!! Even the native Canadians were cold, and they're practically polar bears. The kids still bucked up and swam and slid for a while, then enjoyed a nice hot bath in our room.

That little speck at the top of the slide is my Linc--it was big!

The kiddos in action--love those smiles!

I think their teeth had stopped chattering by this point.

As much fun as we had getting there and playing in the pool, we had clearly come for a purpose. Gavin rolled into town late Friday night, and Saturday morning we went to the temple.

It was so great. I love many aspects of my church, and one of them is how very organized and efficient things are. There were thousands of visitors at the temple, and many of them were not of our faith. Smiling volunteers were everywhere helping move people through and offering a pleasant and informative experience. People who came with no knowledge of the purpose of temples left with a greater understanding of what we hold so dear.

There was an older couple in our group, and we chatted with them a bit. They had grandkids our kids' age, and were not members of the church. Their church had organized a bus tour to visit the temple, but they couldn't make it, so they came on their own. They felt something special in the temple and commented on how beautiful it was. Before we left, the gentleman told Gavin that we ought to keep up our good work, because it was apparent to him that whatever we were doing with our kids was working. And in the end, it was family that mattered most. What a sweetheart.

After we returned home, I asked Aubrey and Lincoln what they liked most about the temple. Lincoln liked the 'quiet room,' and Aubrey liked the 'two mirrors so we could see our family going on forever.'

I would have to agree with both of them. The 'quiet room' offers peace and tranquility found nowhere else on earth. I'm so glad my sweet 5-year-old son felt that for himself. My darling 8-year-old often can't stand to sit at the dinner table with her family, yet her heart was full when she saw our images reflected in the mirror for as far as she could see.

The words to the song sum it up better than I ever could: 'For the temple is a holy place where we are sealed together. As a child of God, I've learned this truth: A family is forever.'

*Thank you, Uncle Sam, for paying Gavin's hotel while at AFIP and scoring us a bazillion rewards points. At least I got something out of the month that Gavin was living in the lap of luxury in Washington, DC. Humph.

Back in the Saddle

What in the world has happened to this poor blog? I am so dreadfully behind. It reminds me of the journal-writing days of my youth.

I was a freshman in high school when I started keeping a journal consistently. I remember clearly sitting in Mr. Gould's World History class and being bored out of my mind. I would wish for class to be over (I had his class in the morning), then wish for school to be out so I could be home.

Later that day, when I was home, I would remember back to being in class and realize the time had passed quickly. It scared me. I didn't want to feel like I was wishing my life away. I wanted to have a record of all that I experienced. And so it began.

I wrote daily for many years. Family members, girls camp tent mates, college roommates, and friends can all tell stories of me falling asleep while writing in my journal. It didn't matter how late it was or how tired it was, I had to write something. I remember once waking up with red stains on my nightgown and freaking out thinking that I was bleeding to death, only to find the red ink pen from writing in my journal. Some of my favorite entries are the ones in jibberish as I was actually writing in my sleep. I was dedicated.

I have thirteen volumes of completed journals. However, volume XIII was started in December of 1997. My amazing journal-writing habit began to unravel when I was a missionary. On the plane to Italy, I committed to only writing in Italian in my journal. I love looking back now and seeing the evolution of my language ability. And, if I do say so myself, my commitment to reading, writing, and speaking Italian helped immensely as I learned to communicate. The benefits of that commitment lasted beyond my mission as I can still speak fluently. I feel very blessed.

On the flip side, since it took longer initially to write in Italian, I quickly fell out of habit. By the time the language came easily and fluidly, my routine was gone. Daily journal writing was no longer a priority. I still wrote home to my family in English, so I didn't miss out on recording my memories. If anything, my letters were even more detailed because of my lack of journal writing. {In fact, they were so long and descriptive that my bratty brother once told me he merely skimmed them. WHAT?!?}

Over the years, I've tried to get back into writing in my journal, but never with the same success as during high school and college. I don't have any regrets, but I still want to create a record of my life.

When I first stumbled into blogging, it was like a new awakening. Every day brought about some funny or introspective event and I would think, "Ooh, I should blog about that."

The Spring of 2009 was a busy one--my brother's 40th birthday, a trip to Disneyland, Easter, and I fell behind. Then the kids were out of school, summer was busy, and Gavin and I were gearing up for our A-MA-ZING Mediterranean Cruise. The more time passed, the more I missed out on and the more overwhelmed I became at catching up. Just like with journal writing, I felt compelled to keep everything in order, so I passed up blogging about current events because I still hadn't finished something from long ago.

No more. I'm not sure yet how I'm going to go about it, but somehow or other I'm going to get back on this blog-wagon. The numbers don't lie--2008 had 97 posts, 2009 had 38, and so far this year . . . EIGHT. Ouch. I can promise my life is no less eventful or stressful, and there is still plenty to say.

So I just have to do it. Ready or not, here I come . . .

Got rain?

My younger brother emailed me this image today. He thought it was funny and said, "You're in for a wet week!"

Ya think? I replied and told him it was 'so not funny.'

It's Memorial Day weekend which is typically considered the unofficial start of summer. The 'officials' sure don't live in Washington.

One thing I've discovered in my 4 years here is how many different ways the forecasters use to describe crappy weather. We rarely watch the weather report on TV (we can pretty much predict what is coming), but when we do, Gavin and I totally crack up.

This is just a partial list of the euphemisms:

Partly sunny
Mostly cloudy
Cloudy
Slight showers
Scattered showers
Chance of showers
Few showers
Showers
Rain showers
Light rain

It's as if the weather people are competing to come up with new and innovative ways to explain a single phenomenon. Really?!? Isn't it all the same dreary forecast?

On the flip side, when it's clear and sunny here, it is absolutely take-your-breath-away gorgeous. Everything is greener than green and there is always a gentle breeze. It almost makes me forget the gloomy days. Our lovely weather lasts from July to October, with daylight as much as 17 hours per day (look it up if you don't believe me). And you know what? We earned it. The rest of the year, however, you can pick one of the above descriptions.

So while the rest of you are enjoying pool-side BBQs and slathering on sunscreen this weekend, I'll be porting my umbrella and raincoat.

The sun will come out, but probably not tomorrow.

Banished

My kids love Subway. I mean luuuuuurve it. Lincoln will eat there any day of the week, and Aubrey has been known to pound down an entire foot long. My little Aubrey. Twelve inches of sandwich. True story.

Well, after today's lunchtime fiasco, I'm afraid we may not be part of the 'Footlong Nation Appreciation.' I don't think we'll be stepping foot in a Subway restaurant anytime soon.

Where do I even begin?

Aubrey had an orthodontist appointment. Yes, she just barely turned 8; and yes, I'm already paying an orthodontist. She has an appliance in her mouth to help her kick her thumb-sucking habit.

Am I a mean mom? Perhaps, but I wish I would have been mean much earlier. Mean would have been to yank her wee baby thumb out of her mouth 8 years ago, and I should have done just that. Alas, the damage is done and we're simply trying to prevent more damage. {I'm talking 'open bite' people, and it isn't pretty.}

Because her appointment was during lunch time, we had to eat together before I took her back to school. Lincoln wanted Subway, as always, but Aubrey has a hard time with sandwiches right now due to her lovely mouth appliance. Since I try to be an accommodating mother (and mostly since she is already losing weight due to this contraption), I bought her chicken teriyaki (another beloved dish) to bring in to Subway.

Before entering the restaurant, I realized Jace had a poopy diaper. There is no changing table in Subway, so I opted to change him in the car. As if I wasn't inconvenienced enough standing in the rain changing my son by the side of my minivan, I also couldn't find an outside garbage can. I wasn't going to leave that stinky diaper in my car, so the next best place was the bathroom garbage inside Subway.

So in we went. Aubrey was carting her own 'outside' food, and I was scurrying to the back to throw away a nasty diaper. As soon as we were in, Lincoln started coughing. You should know that he can't just cough like a normal person. He tries to clear the phlegm as he coughs, and the only way he knows how to do it is by gagging himself. It sounds awful.

Cough. Gag. Cough louder. Gag more. It's horrid. But it just sounds bad. He's really only clearing his throat.

Until today.

I came back from the restroom (what? all of 5 seconds later?), and Aubrey blurted out, "Mom!! Lincoln threw up!!" (With extra 8-year-old dramatic emphasis on the threw up.)

WHAT?!?

Sure enough, there he was. His big, blue, deer-in-the-headlights eyes (he couldn't believe it, either) staring at me, sticky phlegm all over his coat sleeve, and a puddle on the floor. And of course all eyes were on us since the only available table was at the exact center of the restaurant, where Aubrey had already opened up her styrofoam take-out container and was digging in to her chicken and rice.

I politely asked for napkins, carefully removed his nasty coat, and wiped up the mess as best I could--all the while doting on him like a loving mother and making sure he was okay since everyone was still watching me. (Of course I knew he was fine, I just had to act concerned.)

Okay. Time to order food for the rest of us. I brought our own chips and drinks because I'm cheap. And because my kids NEVER finish the huge restaurant portion, and insist on each having their own.

But Jace doesn't want the lunch box portion Doritos I pull out of my purse. He wants the 'Big Grab' bag, which is so easily within his reach. I think I interrupted my sandwich order three different times to corral him away from the chips, put chips back where they belonged, and show him the chips--the VERY SAME CHIPS--I brought.

By the time I sat down, Jace was ready for a full-blown 2-year-old tantrum. He didn't want the chips, so he threw them on the floor. And he most certainly didn't want the juice box I brought, he wanted my diet Coke. For the next 7 minutes, I tried to appease him so the rest of us could eat in peace. He ultimately decided to drink his juice box, but threw chips on the floor despite my best efforts to keep them away from him.

When we were ready to leave, Aubrey asked if she could buy some cookies. I normally say no, but this girl really does need to pack on the calories, so I handed her some money.

While she was ordering, Jace got down and started stomping on the chips he had earlier thrown on the floor. I jumped up to stop him, and accidentally knocked Aubrey's root beer can on the ground. Like I said, my kids never finish their drinks, so this was a nearly-full can of contraband root beer, and it was fizzing and flowing all over the busted up chips that Jace had crushed.

About this time, I caught the look of horror on the manager's face when he glanced our way. I wish I could tell him how sorry I was.

I grabbed a high chair to sit Jace in while I tried to clean up the floor, and he threw a fit--of course.

Of course Subway doesn't just have napkins out for you to grab, and of course now there is a huge rush and several people in line so I can't ask for napkins, and of course Jace is screaming at me straddling the high chair ready to plunge off of it head first, because OF COURSE the strap is broken on the blasted high chair. Of course.

I used what few napkins I had from our lunch, tried to clean up graciously, then reminded myself that I was, afterall, a paying customer (if you don't count Aubrey's lunch and the kids' chips and drinks since I brought that all in myself) and not entirely obligated to clean up.

At that point, the best thing I could do was leave. Grab my kids, their uneaten food, and get out of there.

Poor Subway. If the manager banishes us, I totally don't blame him.