When Vacations Go Awry

There are times in life when, despite hours (and hours and hours) of careful, thoughtful planning, things do not go the way they should. Regardless of your meticulously-bulleted itinerary, your well-researched list of restaurants and local attractions, and your overly-packed suitcase (okay, okay, suitcases), life has a habit of getting in the way. Which explains why, on my second-favorite holiday (because, you know, Christmas), I found myself writing this blog post from bed instead of eating hot dogs and waving sparklers.

I spent the Fourth of July in Denver with my boyfriend (Shane). He and I spent months planning this trip. Long distance relationships are rough, so we poured all of our restless energy and excitement into carefully mapping out our Denver Adventure™. I would drive down, he would fly in, I’d meet him at the airport and tackle him in a hug. We had several restaurants we wanted to try, along with a few local attractions to visit – most notably the zoo and museum, a pair that we planned on visiting back-to-back on a day we dubbed “Zoo-seum Day.” Yeah, we’re that couple. We planned on rounding out Zoo-seum Day with an evening of fireworks at Independence Eve, an annual Denver celebration. I packed snacks and sunscreen and a picnic blanket and a patriotic shirt and wine and – well, suffice it to say I basically filled the entire backseat of my car. I was ready.

When Zoo-seum Day arrived, Shane and I packed up my car and set out for part one of our adventure. We had planned on getting to the zoo as close as possible to nine (when they opened) so that we could beat the crowds. We should have known what the day would become when we finally pulled in to our fourth-level parking spot at 10:45AM and battled a throng of stroller-wielding families to exit the parking garage. After a few more kerfuffles piled on, we decided to abandon the zoo and visit the aquarium instead. The Denver aquarium was fantastic – they had a great mix of fish and lots of themed exhibits (everyone knows how I love a good theme). Most importantly, we made friends with some of the cutest otters in the world and I didn’t even otter-nap one to bring home. I’m such an adult. By the time we were nearing the exit, though, Shane was growing weary. We grabbed some food, came back to the hotel, and promptly fell asleep. Apparently, he’d caught the cold I’d been battling for a week or so. The perks of being a Nanny.

The world's cutest dog with his new best friend, the otter.

The world’s cutest dog with his new best friend, the otter.

When we woke up from our nap, I was prepared to enter Caregiver Mode™ and help him through the evening. That is, until I saw the several missed calls and texts from my mom. I’ll give you the short version of this story in the interest of time and feels. My mom was cat-sitting for me, and my cat had become very sick at some point in the day. Very, very, sick. After a few hours of phone calls between Shane, my mom, the veterinarian, and myself, the vet put my sweet kitty down while my mom held her. She could have waited until I got back, but it would have been an incredibly painful week for my sweet girl. So, battling the runniest nose I’ve ever seen and a killer sore throat, Shane spent his evening taking care of me instead. He talked to the vet when I couldn’t stop crying enough to speak, he helped me work through the emotions to reach a decision, and when it was all over, he let me cry on his shoulder and did his best to make me laugh (his best is very good, and I laughed a lot).

The next day, we both knew we wouldn’t be feeling up to any Fourth of July celebrations, despite it being one of the greatest holidays ever. So instead, we spent our morning watching How I Met Your Mother and eating crepes we had delivered to the hotel room. Eventually, thanks to some nap-related energy, we finished off the day by walking to a nearby Mexican restaurant for dinner and margaritas. We’ve since decided that celebrating America’s birthday by eating Mexican food is going to be our tradition. It wasn’t even close to the celebration I had carefully planned, but it ended up being the most fantastic day.

The Great American Celebration

The Great American Celebration

I’m a planner. I like organization, order, and color-coordination. I love maps and itineraries and Yelp reviews. I like being able to feel like I’m in control of how my day goes, but life doesn’t always work that way. Sometimes you skip the zoo and meet cute otters instead. Sometimes you catch a cold. Sometimes bad things happen when you’re very far from home and you have to do your best to deal with it. I’ll be honest, if all of these things happened to me on an average day, I would probably lose my mind. And yet, when they all happened on what was supposed to be the culminating day of my vacation, I didn’t panic. I didn’t lose my cool. I didn’t cry over the spilt plans. Instead, I leaned on the person I was with and learned something about our relationship that no Zoo-seum Day could ever teach: we work, even when life isn’t a fun adventure. In fact, we work well.

If you spend all of your time focusing on making things exactly what you think they should be, there’s no room for making the most of what actually happens. And sometimes, the most is much more than you had planned in the first place.

Someone Else’s Family Vacation

In my humble opinion, the only acceptable answer to “do you want to go to Hawaii?” is a resounding “YES”. Possibly even a “HELLS YEAH” if you’re feeling particularly raucous. In any case, an offer to journey to a tropical island paradise should never be met with anything but enthusiasm – especially if you’re a nanny. Which is why, when my bosses asked me to go with them to Hawaii, I had nothing but enthusiasm for the idea. It ended up being one of the most memorable and incredible experiences of my life, but it was not at all the easybreezycovergirl Hawaiian vacation I was expecting.

Depending on your level of familiarity with the nanny-verse, you may or may not know that some families ask their nanny to accompany them on vacations. Despite my extensive research on the career before throwing myself into it (and by research, I mean watching several Julie Andrews movies), I had no clue that this actually happened in real life. I had no idea that taking a nanny on vacation was a luxury available to anyone other than the one-percenters, but evidently, it is.

When the C’s (my boss-family) first asked me to travel with them, I was thinking we would take a road trip to a theme park or something similarly run-of-the-mill. When they dropped the bomb that Hawaii was their destination of choice, I had to politely excuse myself to scream and do a happy dance. To me, going to Hawaii was about as likely as going to the Moon – something a select few very lucky individuals do, but far beyond the realm of my possibilities. I consider myself lucky if I get to go to the Olive Garden more than once a year. Yet here they were, offering me this chance to see an incredible place with my favorite little dude at my side – a win-win.

In the weeks leading up to our departure, I spent every available moment scouring the Internet for tips on traveling with toddlers and suggestions for nannies vacationing with families. I read every possible article in the hopes that I could somehow prepare myself for something this huge. Let me be blunt here – there’s no possible way to prepare yourself for this. Traveling with a toddler is a challenge in and of itself. The challenge increases exponentially when you add the long flights, the unfamiliar situation, and the politics of working through someone else’s family vacation.

To be honest, I was sort of expecting the trip to be an easy way to enjoy a vacation on someone else’s dime. I was sorely mistaken. Don’t get me wrong, I did enjoy every minute of it (and I paid for very little – thanks, Mr. and Mrs. C!), but it was by no means easy. Working during someone else’s vacation is such a challenge, no matter how wonderful they are or how well you get along with them. It’s hard to know where you stand in that situation if you’ve never been there before, and none of us ever had.

I never knew if I was supposed to tend to Bug (the little dude, about 15 months old at the time of the trip) if the C’s were present, or if I should let them take over. Bug was also sleeping in my room, so I didn’t know how to handle it when he got fussy. I always felt guilty when Mrs. C would get up and come grab him after hearing him cry for a little while, despite my attempts to comfort him. When he went to bed, I never knew what my role became – could I go socialize with the C’s and their friends on the lanai? Was it okay for me to accept a glass of wine with everyone else? Could I joke with them? There were so many potentially awkward situations throughout the experience, and finding my place in their family vacation felt exhausting at times.

On top of that, I didn’t have much free time, unless you count Bug’s naps (and even then I couldn’t leave the condo). Most nights the C’s would go out with their friends who had traveled with us, or with their parents who met us there, leaving me alone with Bug. When we did go places, Mrs. C and I shared the job of entertaining Bug and keeping him occupied. I ended up working much longer hours than I do regularly, and I was pretty exhausted when we finally made it home.

The trip was still one of the most incredible experiences of my life. Once I adjusted my expectations and found my place in the picture, I had an amazing time. Sure, I was working, but I was working in Hawaii. Bug still had fits and my job still brought difficulties, but they happened in Hawaii. And best of all, I was able to witness my favorite little dude as he experienced so many things for the first time.

I got to hold his hand while he grabbed his first fistful of sand. He sat on my lap while we watched whales breach right next to the shore. I held him in my arms while the sounds of the gorgeous Pacific Ocean lulled him to sleep on our first night there. I identified each new plant and animal that he excitedly discovered. I filled a box with the plumeria blossoms he brought me every day, a box I will never get rid of (even now as the blossoms are years old and nothing but a pile of dust). Being in Hawaii was incredible, but it was nothing compared to witnessing Bug in Hawaii. For that more than anything else, the trip will always be one of my most cherished memories.

Being a nanny is hard sometimes. We work crazy hours. We face extremely high expectations and standards. We never know if we’re friend or employee, so we never really know where we stand. That being said, there are so many things that make being a nanny worthwhile. The love and connection with each charge in our care, getting to experience incredible new things, and witnessing the kiddos who become our best friends have some of the best days of their lives, to name a few. Being a nanny is hard sometimes, but it’s still the greatest job in the world.

Braving the High Roller

Las Vegas, Nevada

The older I get, the more I am convinced that drinking alcohol to increase bravery is a valid and very effective coping mechanism. It should come as no surprise, then, that I turned to liquid courage when confronted with my very real fear of heights at the High Roller in Las Vegas, Nevada. Here’s what nobody told me, though: they don’t actually stop the rotation to let you on. Don’t drink and Roll, friends. Learn from my mistake – this is one attraction that should be done sober.

My amazing grandparents on my mother’s side spend their winters in Nevada, snowbird style. Every time I visit, we spend at least a day braving the wilds of Las Vegas. My Grams, more adventurous in her 70’s than I could ever hope to be, convinced me to go on the High Roller with her and my Papa. Walking up to it and taking in the 550-foot tall observation wheel from below, I was sure I could do it.

In giant observation wheels, as in life, perspective is everything.

We rode the elevator up to the boarding level and exited into a fully stocked bar. Vegas is a beautiful place. I immediately breathed a sigh of relief and ordered a drink heavy on the raspberry flavoring and champagne. My Papa ordered a Velvet Elvis, because when in Rome and all that, and my Grams elected to stay sober. See what I mean? Braver than I will ever be. By the time we got through the line to our designated pod, I was feeling the raspberry-infused buzz. I boarded the pod after my grandparents and the doors closed, all the while feeling pretty brave. That bravery lasted approximately sixty seconds as we slowly ascended until we were level with, and then above, all of the technicolored casino lights. I looked down at the tourists and flashy advertisements and felt very small, very nervous, and very tipsy. I huddled in my seat and sipped my drink, avoiding the clear glass walls of the pod.

That’s the funny thing about perspective, though. Eventually, you’re so far above it all that you aren’t the small one anymore. The buildings and revelers below grew smaller and smaller until, suddenly, I felt bigger and greater than the entirety of Las Vegas. I was enormous and strong. I was invincible. I was drunk (on power or alcohol, the interpretation is up to you). As we slowly rotated, the view became more like what you see from an airplane window and my head filled with bubbles. I bravely left the safety of my seat and ventured over to the window. I stayed there with my nose pressed against the glass for the rest of our rotation, staring down at Vegas.

Standing in the trenches, so to speak, Vegas seems so large and so bright and so full of life. As the wheel propelled us higher and higher, though, those lights grew dimmer and the Strip began to look flimsy and plastic. All of those beautiful people doing beautiful things grew very small, and I realized that at the end of their weekend they would drag themselves back to wherever they lived, hung-over with significantly less money, and return to their regular lives. Vegas, the great paradisiacal city in the desert, was nothing but a temporary mirage.

I may get a little philosophical when I’ve been drinking.

As we neared the exit level, buildings grew larger and I lost my magical above-the-world perspective. Heights were scary again, and I realized I would have to exit while the pod was still in motion. My Grams, pre-knee replacement and all, hopped out of the pod with ease and grace. I leaned over to my Papa and whispered in his ear, “Papa… you’re gonna have to drag me off of this thing…” The exit almost knocked us both over, but we made it out relatively unscathed. We exited into the gift shop (because Vegas) and I fought the urge to purchase approximately eight mugs to commemorate my champagne-infused bravery.

The High Roller was probably the second-coolest thing I did in Vegas (Jersey Boys reigns supreme and you can’t convince me otherwise). While I feel moderately proud of myself for facing my lifelong fear of heights, I feel very proud of myself for spending the rest of my Vegas vacation alcohol-free. Sometimes the best things we do are the scariest, and the view from the very top of the highest observation wheel in the world is something I will not forget anytime soon. I also came up with my new motto in travel (and in life): “If my Grams can do it, I can do it.” Here’s to being as brave as my 70-something grandmother!

I’m not making any promises, though.

A Peek Inside My Purse


Every good traveler is ready to drop everything and head out at a moment’s notice. You never know when Adventure will call, and wouldn’t you hate to have to put her on hold? Whether you stock a go-bag, a compartment in your car, or your regular purse, you need to make like a Boy Scout and always be prepared. Personally, I have an obnoxiously enormous purse (which I affectionately refer to as my Mary Poppins bag) that I take with me EVERYWHERE. To inspire you to prepare your own Emergency Travel Pack, here’s a peek into what I keep in mine:

1. Approximately 72 lipsticks. This one isn’t exactly a travel necessity, but I like to be able to change my look depending on where I go. I love that with a dab of my favorite shade of red, I can go from Nanny to Exotic Traveler in a moment. I probably look exactly the same, but I feel different. That’s what counts. Probably.

2. A handkerchief. You never know where travel may take you. You never know when, or for what, you may need this.

3. A small, hardcover notebook. Sometimes inspiration strikes. I need to be prepared to write it down. Also, I have a really hard time keeping track of grocery lists.

4. A second small notebook. Remember our motto from earlier? Be prepared. Mine is designated specifically for blog ideas. A great story or post idea may come to me as I’m having an adventure, and I need to be ready to jot it down.

5. A sewing kit. Sometimes, your pants may tear mid-adventure. Learn from my past mistake and BE READY FOR THIS.

6. A flask. Because reasons. [I do have to add a disclaimer here and say that 99.99% of the time this flask is empty. It’s like a metaphor, or whatever.]

7. Hand sanitizer. Keep those germs away. Mine sparkles and smells like peppermint.

8. Lotion. The west is a dry, dry place. Your skin will thank you. This also sparkles and smells like peppermint. What can I say? I cannot be controlled at Bath & Body Works. Sue me.

9. Tic-tacs. These are just for fun, and because my Mimi always stocked them in her purse when I was growing up. It’s nice to feel nostalgic sometimes.

10. A wide variety of allergy medications and nasal decongestants. I am very allergy-ridden when I travel (and, to be honest, every other moment of my life).

11. A Reviver. This thing is a miracle. It’s a small, fancy piece of cloth that deodorizes your clothes and hair (and anything else) with one swipe. Smoke, food odor, body odor – it gets rid of everything. You keep it sealed in its little plastic holder and it stays fresh and reusable.

12. A small bag containing a folded-down, reusable tote. This was a gift from my boss a few Christmases ago, and even though it may seem like a boring gift it is SO. DANG. FUNCTIONAL. Mine is a Loqi, and it has a picture of a cat on it. It’s on the shortlist for greatest things I own.

13. A compact mirror. This is nice for fashion emergencies and all that, but to be honest I mostly use mine for spying on the people sitting behind me on airplanes. I say I’m doing this to be aware of my surroundings, but really I just enjoy feeling like a secret agent.

14. A dual-function phone charger. I got this at a gas station years ago, and it is the handiest thing EVER for traveling. At first glance, it looks like a regular car charger, but it also has a little wall plug that flips out from the side. You can plug any USB cord into it, and it is the best thing ever.

15. And finally, my Pinch Minimergency kit. It has about a zillion things inside, and I have been able to come to the rescue of so many people thanks to this little dude. Mine is very sparkly, but you can find a variety of styles and themes on their website.

What do you keep inside your travel bag? Comment below!

My First Solo Travel Experience

Or, How I Became a Roving Stone

At some point, somewhere, every person catches the Wanderlust Bug (and if you don’t, I’m sorry, but you are a broken person). My family lives for adventure and exploration, so it was only a matter of time before I came down with it. My grandparents have pared down their lives to a camper and spend their retirement roving the country. My dad spent the better part of his thirties and forties living in a new place every six months. Basically, traveling is hardwired into my DNA. In another time, I may have become a nomad rather than a nanny and, soon, a teacher. Who knows, I still may (but probably not because I have way too many things that I’ll never be able to get rid of, like my cat and my books and my coffee maker).

As a child, we took the requisite family vacations: Yellowstone, Disney World, and visiting family throughout the west. From the bits I remember, they were mostly perfectly fine vacations. [On a side note, don’t take your five-year-old to Disney Anywhere. Her only memory will be the fact that she fell in the shower and “cracked her head open”, and the overpriced toys and costumes you buy her will be in a box in your basement by the end of the year.] My childhood was full of an adequate amount of travel, and I was mostly ambivalent about it. I certainly didn’t have The Bug.

That all changed the year I turned thirteen. My dad, thanks to an inner sense of wanderlust (or possibly a midlife crisis), made a pretty drastic career change from Salesperson to Set Builder roughly around the time I turned ten. The pay was low and the hours bizarre, but the job made up for its failings in two beautiful ways: travel and live theater. During his time in theater, he worked in about nine states and even more cities. I was thirteen when my mother finally conceded to letting me fly by myself to visit him, and I was ecstatic (and also terrified).

I took a whopping two-hour flight from my hometown of Cody, Wyoming to my dad’s new home of Phoenix, Arizona, but to me it was a massive excursion. I won’t dive into the fun times you can have in Phoenix, because to me that wasn’t even close to the best part of that trip. The best part was the feeling of absolute freedom that coursed through my little, naïve veins as I wheeled my suitcase through the airports. I looked around at the various flight boards and gates and felt like I had just been given the keys to eternity. I was convinced I could go to any one of the gates, hand them my ticket, and wind up literally anywhere in the world.


Of course, I’ve learned a lot since then about airport security protocols and basic finance, and I now know that a plane ticket isn’t a magic pass to anywhere I want to go. Even so, I can’t help but feel that same sense of wonder and longing anytime I’m in an airport. I connect to that little thirteen-year-old who’s just learned that a whole wide world is at her fingertips, waiting to be discovered. That first experience traveling alone taught me that I can go anywhere, anytime and I can do it by myself. It gave me my sense of wanderlust, which has only grown stronger thanks to several more exciting trips throughout my teenage years. I’m thankful to my dad for many things (helping to create me, teaching me to love football, and paying for my car insurance to name a few), but the greatest gift he’s ever given me will always be my wanderlust.