What is it they say about the best laid plans?

Well, interpeeps, I had some grand ideas for posts this week that I was hoping would pull me out of my blogging slump.

I was going to find all the old Halloween photos from years gone by and post them here so you could ooh and ahh at my darling babies, you know, when they were babies.

I was going to make a really yummy soup and post pictures and directions to entice you all to make it.

I was going to let you into the world that was my frighteningly pious 19-year-old psyche and share some old journal entries I just found in the basement.

But, these good intentions have gone by the wayside. And come tomorrow morning, I will be waking at the unholy hour of four a.m. for a little spontaneous road trip with the family.

See, when your husband happily tells you he has taken Halloween off from work, don't mentally start making any plans for lunch dates, afternoon matinees, or any other afternoon delights. For, you see, about three-point-seven seconds later, he will sweetly bring up the fact that there is a BYU game in Colorado this weekend, and wouldn't it be great if we all went?

So, we're going.

I'm actually excited because it means I will get to spend time with one of my favorite sisters-in-law (sorry, she's blogless or I'd link) and I get to sit in the car for several uninterrupted hours with a large stack of books by my side.

And I get to miss church. (Which is definitely something my pious 19-year-old self would not be happy about. Please don't tell her. She'd definitely have words to say about that.)

So, Happy Halloween. And, I guess, Go Cougs.

If I had a crystal ball

If I had a crystal ball (which, at this point, I might consider selling my soul to Satan for one), I would have been able to save myself quite a bit of anxiety and frustration on this little vacation of ours (which, by the way, is still going strong tripping along pathetically).

There are so many things that I wish I could have known. So much might have been different.

If I had a crystal ball, I would have been able to see that two days after arriving in Utah, Hannah would come down with strep throat. I would have seen that Utah is a one-horse town when it comes to health plans, and even though my insurance is perfectly willing to pay them, the urgent care clinic will refuse to bill on my behalf. I would have saved myself the headache and just paid the $250 they wanted in cash, rather than spending three hours in search of a doctor that WOULD bill our insurance.

I would also have been a little more insistent in not letting her play with her cousins, and making her get some rest. Even if she said she felt fine.

If I had done that, then maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have GOTTEN STREP AGAIN.

Yes, I know.

And maybe if we'd known, she wouldn't have thrown up all over my mother-in-law's floor in the middle of the night, a mere 12 hours after the Husband and I left for San Diego (or at least Oma would have had that bowl ready). And then maybe she wouldn't have laid around feverish and pukey at my mother's house for the next two days - contagious, and spreading her germs like wildfire.

And if I had that crystal ball, I might not have had to leave my gorgeous five-star resort in San Diego to come home a day early. It certainly would have predicted that I'd be spending the night on my mother's couch, next to Chase and Hannah, waking up groggily to the sound of their coughs, feverish chills, and sprints to the bathroom.

The crystal ball would have told me that THEY BOTH HAD STREP, and advised me to take the third child to the clinic at the same time as the other two, even though he seemingly had no symptoms. It would have also told me that at the EXACT MINUTE I get home from the two-hour wait at the urgent care with Chase and Hannah, poor McKay would be moaning, groaning, and complaining of the same symptoms as the others.

And that second trip BACK to the urgent care? It would have been nice to know that once we waited for another two hours, his strep test was going to still come back negative.

And then, two days later, after McKay has rebounded, he would wake up at four in the morning, puking his guts out. Yes, in hindsight, it would have been nice to foresee that.

You know, at the very least, for my brother Craig, who was generously chaperoning the cousin sleepover in the backyard tent.

I'll bet he would have liked the warning to move his sleeping bag out of the way.

I could be wrong, but I don't think so.

So yesterday, as I was hauling McKay into a doctor's office for what would be our FIFTH clinic visit during this supposed vacation, I find myself pining and wishing for that crystal ball.

Because, armed with the knowledge of what this trip would turn into, I just might have jumped on the nearest train.

And never even looked back.

Wait...is it still to late to do that?

Travel Tips from Zion

Greetings, internets, from Zion National Park.

Have you ever been here? It is so beautiful. Sheer, towering cliffs of red rock, hot desert air, and wildlife abound. We have spent two days hiking, shopping, swimming, and hunting reptiles. I have observed some very interesting things down here, and thought I'd share a few with you.

Because nothing is better than reading about someone else's vacation, right?

I know. Sorry.

Anyhoo, it has come to my attention that there are a lot of women in the world who, for reasons unknown to me, do not shave. ANYWHERE. It is all I can do to not hand out disposable Bic razors to every hippie/European/granola girl I meet. I'd also like to take them for an eyebrow wax and shoe store visit, but first things first. ARMPITS, girls. It's just plain disgusting.

If my waitress/restaurant cashier is literally 10 years old, I will not blindly trust her skills when she rings up my dinner bill to $80 for a few cheeseburgers. It is a good idea to have her re-check the math before paying.

Hiking in 100 plus degree temperatures will bring the poor little princess Hannah to tears. She will proclaim today as the worst day of her entire life, and resign herself to laying down and dying there on the trail.

This fervent declaration will still not produce enough guilt to entice me to carry her sorry self up the steep mountain, much to her chagrin.

She will survive the mountain hike, but find herself terrified of the man-eating squirrel that will decide to take a bite out of the Husband's finger for no apparent reason. The man-eating squirrel does not carry mad squirrel disease, of this I am sure. But if the Husband starts foaming at the mouth anytime soon, I might need some help from Dr. Google on how to treat rabies.

If there is a "fossil and gem" store, DO. NOT. STOP. Stopping will have Chase suddenly finding every item that his heart has now, or ever will, desire, and I will have to spend an hour talking to the kindly owner of the store while Chase peruses the crap for sale merchandise. I will find myself unable to concentrate on anything but the man's lack of teeth.

How does a person not have teeth in this day and age? I just don't get it.

And lastly, watching people argue in another language is really funny.

Until they stop their argument to stare at you. Then it's not so funny. It's just embarrassing.

But as I walk away red-faced, I will not lose heart. For although I may be a rude, staring American, at least my armpit hair isn't longer than my husband's.

And that, internets, is enough to let me sleep well at night.

Adopting sisters just for the weekend

We are back.

Sigh. There is just nothing like a weekend in New York (or Yew Nork, as my kids like to call it). It is truly my favorite city in the entire world. Had a great time with my sisters-and-mother-in-law. Made some great memories. Ate some truly sinful food. Slept very little.

Some of the highlights were:

• Cold lemon chicken and a black and white polka dot dinner at Gabi's.
• Gabi's choreographed (and costumed) dance number during dinner.
• Heidi's lost luggage saga (never trust anyone named Doogan at the Delta Luggage Counter. He is lying when he says he will wait all night for your lost suitcase).
• Shopping for hours at H&M.
• Giving Marta the "what no one will tell you" speech about child birth at 2 a.m. (and hoping she's now not too terrified to deliver baby Bruce).
• Never getting more than four hours of sleep at a time.
• The Dali Lama cab driver waxing philosophical on gay men and people that need medication in the city (like himself, maybe? Nah).
• Burgers at the Burger Joint in Le Parker Meridian.
• H&M some more.
• Books of Wonder and the Cupcake Bakery inside.
• Talking Oma into returning the $500 worth of exfoliation skin care products she didn't need from Bloomies.
• Laughing at the giant bra Gabi did buy at Bloomies.
• Pashminas on the street.
• Oma's crinkling cookie wrappers during the middle of A Chorus Line.
• More H&M (because clearly, if you don't buy everything in the store the first and second time, then a third trip is in order).
• Sweet potato fries with maple syrup dipping sauce.
• Dinner at Carnegie Deli at 10 p.m., where the sandwiches were the size of our heads.
• Getting dessert after eating sandwiches the size of our heads at 10 p.m.
• Running for the train at Penn Station and hoping Oma doesn't have a heart attack.
• Laughing until we cried.
• Crying until we laughed.
• Having fun, being together, and returning home safe and happy to our families (although some were still without luggage).

Thanks for the memories, girls. It was great to pretend to have sisters for a few days. Let's do it again soon.

Oh, and nothing says 'welcome home, mom' like a child vomiting in the car on the way home from the airport. Remember my last trip to New York when I came home to a vomiting child?

Seriously.

Why can't they throw up on the husband's watch? WHY?!

Vacation Survival Guide

Oh, the pains of crawling out from under a sugar hangover this morning. Why must the Reeses Peanut Butter eggs tempt me so?

And why must I see the need to eat my weight in them, year after year?

But the headache and sugar withdrawals were miraculously cured the minute that I saw this beautiful sight lumbering down the street, carrying my children:

So our little mini-spring break vacation.

What to say?

Well, we took the kids up to Chicago Wednesday night. Left behind the five-day rainstorms that had plagued our town, hoping for sunshine and blue skies.

Which we got.

Until the six inches of snow blew in. And suddenly we found ourselves pining for the wet rains of St. Louis. My life is absolute living proof that the grass IS NOT GREENER. Punch anyone in the kidneys who tries to tell you that it is. It's not.

We did have a great time, but I learned a few things on this trip. Thought I'd share my them with you, my interpeeps, in case you ever find yourself trapped in a tiny hotel room with three children over spring break.

Stie's Spring Break Survival Guide: What Not to Do Edition

When passing through a town with this sign, know immediately that you do not now, nor will you ever, belong here. Accept the fact that everyone you know would immediately laugh at your return address because they know you.

And you are anything but normal.

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When staying at a hotel with your children, never assume there is going to be a pool. Sometimes at big, fancy, downtown hotels, they don't have pools.

But they do have gyms, and you will gladly remember your sudden, extreme need to exercise for the chance of a few minutes to yourself. Even if that means you actually will have to, you know, exercise.

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Hotel beds are perfect for doing things that are not allowed at home. Like jumping or simultaneously falling flat on your face to see who gets there first.


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The Children's Museum at Navy Pier is the absolute coolest museum ever. Plan on opening and closing the place down, with only a brief intermission for lunch. Your kids will not want to leave thanks to the endless hours of learning, entertainment, and play.

And the best part? There are benches and chairs everywhere so you can sit and watch the learning, entertainment, and play. Without having to learn, entertain, or play.


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Standing in front of a fun house mirror will give you insecurities all day that you really might look like this:

Or worse, this:

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Sharpay is fully to blame for the slightly awkward, very diva-like pose that your daughter will strike every time a camera is near. When asked about it, she will proudly say that she looks like Sharpay, but sings like Gabriella.

WhatEVER.

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And when returning eagerly to your non-snowy state, try not to drown yourself in a bowl of cereal when you look outside to see snow falling in droves on Easter morning.


Monday WILL come, and they WILL return to school.

And you might just find that you miss them a little.