From the girl who’s locked her keys in her car more times than she can count, (twice while it was running) comes the boy who’s on his third water bottle of the school year.

My nine year old was telling me with excitement about winning a token at school for their library’s book vending machine when he realized he left it in his grandparents’ car. Cue the waterworks. This token was of the utmost importance. He was pleading with me through his tears to track down his grandfather who was running errands, and recover he token. His loyal little brother chimed in, “we only get one token a year!” But with a basketball game and busy evening, we couldn’t stop to send a search party. I texted but they couldn’t find it.

After the game, he begged to drive over and look, insisting he must have left it at their house after school, but it was past bedtime. After tucking him in, my sympathy crept up. I understand what it’s like to have a brain so busy it doesn’t even register where I’ve put my keys, or why I walked into a room. I drove over to my in-laws after bedtime and knocked on the door, surprising them in their pajamas as I proceeded to ransack their car like an FBI agent. Still nothing.

Defeated, I drove home thinking we’d get to re-live the devastation again in the morning. That’s when I finally thought to check his shorts pocket. Bingo. He’d had it the entire day. While he was pleading with me to go find it, the token was sitting inches from his fingertips the whole time.

I’d say someday he needs to learn to keep track of his own stuff. That someday he’ll have his own keys and wallet, and he’ll learn to remember where he puts them. But I’m still working on that myself. What we can do is make sure his dad always has a spare. For those days when our brains get too busy.

Our fall break adventure took us on a road trip to some of the most spectacular sights in the Southwest. We mapped out our week from Northern Arizona to Southern Utah, with visits to the Grand Canyon, Horseshoe Bend, Lake Powell, Zion National Park, and Bryce Canyon.

From hiking to fishing, to a jeep tour and more, the boys learned so much about the natural world around them and got to enjoy some of the best parks this region has to offer. We couldn’t ask for more adventure-loving kids, but here are a few things we did on this trip to make the most of every experience: 

Every Kid Outdoors: When Big Bro started fourth grade, we immediately took advantage of the Every Kid Outdoors program that grants free access to all National Parks, recreation areas and more. Not only is it a money-saver, It’s great inspiration to explore our nation’s wild outdoor spaces and give our kids hands-on experiences they’ll remember forever.

Junior Rangers: In addition to the parks pass, school-aged children can also take advantage of the National Parks Junior Ranger program. Simply ask a ranger at any national park for a junior ranger activity book and complete it during your visit. Once finished, a ranger can swear in a child as a “junior ranger” with a collectible badge for that specific park as well. This kept their attention during hikes while they searched for plants or animals to identify, or found a “special spot” to draw their surroundings. They loved getting their badges at the end of our visits, and seeing them get sworn in with a pledge unique to each park was pretty cute too.

Dress for the Weather: This trip took us from the painted desert and Horseshoe Bend (about 2,600ft in elevation) to the cliffs of Bryce Canyon at about 8,000ft in elevation. The weather didn’t just vary park to park, but time of day and sun or shade. I packed lots of layers to make sure the kids were comfortable, including gloves, sweatshirts, t-shirts, and baseball hats for the sun. And of course, always, appropriate shoes.

Snacks: This tip is included in pretty much every list of tips I have to offer. My kids don’t get hungry, they get hangry, and if I don’t get ahead of it with some well-timed snack breaks, it can be bad news. In addition to snacks like carrots sticks, granola bars and applesauce pouches, we packed emergency fruit snacks to offer during any particularly difficult walks requiring endurance. I’m proud to say we didn’t even need them during our Bryce Canyon hike, but they were a great treat to unpack when we reached the top.

Flexibility: Venturing into the unknown requires a certain amount of flexibility. We had a couple of excursions booked but other than that, we relied on the expertise of park rangers, locals, and website reviews when it came to selecting which hikes or restaurants or activities to choose. Keeping the kids prepped with an open mind and including them in our decision-making helped ensure everyone had a good time. At Bryce Canyon, we took a look at our initial hiking plan and realized that at 8K feet elevation, we needed a shorter option (due to shortness of breath!) Modeling flexibility and a positive attitude goes a long way in keeping the boys motivated. And the fruit snacks help too.

We’re still very much enjoying the golden phase of parenting, where our boys play independently for hours on end but still snuggle at bedtime and cry “watch me!” to see us smiling from the sidelines. These elementary years have been some of my favorites, full of imagination and wonder and milestones and growth. But every now and then, we get a glimpse of what’s to come, as our nine-year-old starts to place more and more importance on the opinions and actions of his peers.

When he learned to speak as a toddler, I’d get caught blindsided by my own reflection; my diction and intonation coming from his mouth. Now, he comes home from school with a new vernacular, words and phrases winding their way into his regular vocabulary that aren’t familiar. I’m caught abruptly, hearing for the first time, the influences of people I don’t even know. Not to say it’s bad, but that’s how I went from “Mom” to “Bro.”

As parents, I think it’s easy to think of our kids as miniature versions of ourselves. But boy, do they prove us wrong. While I remind my son “I’m not your bro,” I remind myself he’s got new words, new interests, new strengths, new challenges, and that reflection I once saw so clearly is now only visible in his eyes when he smiles.

It’s up to me to take interest in his world instead of the other way around- Star Wars, legos, Minecraft, basketball, guitar, and books of dragons. I may not be an expert but they’re all fun to play, which I guess makes him a pretty cool “bro.”

Our household has never been the best at keeping a consistent bedtime routine. When the boys were infants, we tried our best at swaddling and sleep training, but ultimately defaulted to the tried and true method of two working parents who are exhausted by the end of the week – whatever works.

When they were toddlers, we’d watch a “calm down show” as we sat on the sofa watching a soothing episode of “Puffin Rock,” read a story and then tuck them in one at a time. Soon enough that one story became five stories. Each. Pajamas, teeth-brushing, stories, water bottles, tuck-ins, it all got longer and longer until we came up with the “one minute” bedtime rule. Every night, each parent has their “minute” with each child, where we chat about our day. We discuss our favorite part, our challenges, or look forward to the day ahead. Sometimes the minute itself is my favorite part.

Over the years, bedtime routine has had too many iterations to count. From watching a show to to reading out loud, to reading quietly, reading to one another, to playing word puzzles, and now a new household nightly tradition we started where we draw or write in sketch books. Some nights include literal laps around the yard to get Big Bro’s energy out enough for him to lay down and stay still for more than a few seconds. Despite the myriad of different attempts to calm our children before bed, one thing is always part of the routine- stalling for more time.

The one minute rule has stuck around too. Sometimes, it’s when I gain the most meaningful insights into their lives at school or their friends or their feelings.

I don’t think we’ll ever nail down a solid routine for winding down at the end of the day. Ultimately, we all do it differently and they’ll figure that out and that’s fine. As long as they’ve brushed their teeth, it’s only the last two minutes that matter to me.

I knew our beloved dog was nearing the end of his lifeline. For the last year, I’d been playing whack-a-mole with a variety of diseases and conditions, alternating meds depending on his symptoms and side effects, deciding which organ needed to be saved while others spared. He was fighting on all fronts. He was exhausted. 

A decade ago, we found him in a shelter labeled not with a name but a series of numbers. The vets estimated he was between four and six years old. We’ll never know his real birthday or what he’d been through to get there but we know he was a tough dog with a soft heart. A desert dog. 

Max was one of a kind. In the 10 years he spent as a member of our family, I’d brought home two human babies that quickly turned into rambunctious boys and he tolerated their shenanigans from day one, sticking by my side loyally. We joked he was my shadow. He was kind and cuddly, always leaning into a good pet or curling up on the couch or beside the fireplace. He loved long walks, sitting in the yard and enjoying the sunshine.

Max left us in one hour’s time. On his own terms, outside just after eating breakfast. He’d declined quickly in the previous week, but all of the sudden he’d perked up, picking up his old habits of greeting me at the door and asking for more food. We had our old dog back and then just as quickly he was gone. He was saying goodbye.

We thought carefully about how to tell the boys. I’d be calm, collected, comforting. The portrait of stability. I was not. And at first, I felt it was a parenting failure. I sobbed, and my sweet boys ended up comforting me instead of the other way around. Thinking more about it now, at least they learned that even grown-ups can have big feelings. That it’s okay to be sad. And, that there are few things in this world that can’t be solved by salt water. Sweat, tears, waves in an ocean. We’ve had plenty this summer.

We said goodbye to Max as a family and returned him to the desert. The sun beamed down on a dry July day. One only needs a few drops of water to make a rainbow.

I never thought I’d be the big vacations mom. I’m a firm believer that kids don’t need a lot of flashy entertainment or extravagant trips. Their imagination and sense of wonder can make any place extraordinary.

But I love to travel.

And there’s nothing that says just because you’re a mom you have to give up the things you love. The way I see it, being a mom adds more to the things that you love!

Vacationing with kids can be challenging. We’ve had screaming babies on flights and ill-timed fevers and meltdowns and tantrums. Even on this trip to Maui, there was one hike that Little Bro wasn’t a fan of. He whined and complained down the picturesque hill of lava rocks before we marveled at the tiny creatures in tide pools. At the end of the day he said it was a pretty cool place. We’ve learned that most bumps in the road can be overcome with a snack or a short break or fun game of red light green light.

At nine and six, the boys can do so much more than “tag along.” We rode the waves, snorkeled with sea turtles, swam under waterfalls, and even enjoyed a chocolate farm tour and tasting! The boys sat on high stools in a treehouse, weighing their opinions on chocolate flavors with the rest of the guests.

So yes, I’m a big vacations mom. I’m a big vacations mom because I loved to travel before I was a mom; I just do it now with kids. The fact that they have a great time too just adds more to the things that I love.

It’s teacher appreciation week and nothing inspires more appreciation for teachers than chaperoning an early elementary school field trip.

Today, I accompanied little Bro and his classmates while they discovered the Phoenix Children’s Museum. A three-story building with rooms full of hands-on activities; the excitement was palpable, the smiles were bright, and the volume was LOUD.

Last year, I traveled to the dinosaur museum with Big Bro and his then second-grade class, supervising a group of seven boys, trying to make sure I kept track of them all while also keeping them out of trouble in a facility that included a replica gold mine complete with running water and dark tunnels.

Though the school day is two hours shorter than my work day, after just one shift caring for a gaggle of enthusiastic children in a public space, I’m ready for a nap.

Teachers are heroes, magicians, and some of the kindest and most patient humans I’ve ever met. Little Bro’s teacher kneels to greet each child at eye level as they walk into class for the day, giving each one a special moment of her undivided attention. 

As the school year comes to a close for us in Arizona, I’m so appreciative of the teachers who extend our village, doing so much more than educate our kids. And, I’m thankful to be able to join if only for just one day as a chaperone, with my boys who still want to share everything they do in school with their mom. I’ll hold onto it as long as I can.

I remember when Little Bro learned to walk. He took two steps away from his push-car in the driveway, and nervously scrambled back to the safety of its handles. Two hours later, he was running around our kitchen chasing his older brother.

When he was a toddler, I took him to mommy and me swim classes. We practiced in the neighborhood pool and he swam comfortably in the safety of his puddle jumper until he was in preschool. One summer, we went to the pool and I was ready to put on his floats when he said “I don’t need that anymore. I can swim now.” I stood near him in the water while he swam on the stairs and soon he was swimming the length of the pool independently.

When he was four years old, he got a bike with training wheels. At five, we encouraged him to try learning to ride his bike without them, and each time I offered to remove his training wheels he said he wasn’t ready. Until one night, after bedtime, wearing a Stormtrooper costume, he told us he wanted them off. He giggled as he took off down the sidewalk, and he’s been riding around ever since.

Little Bro takes in everything. He waits until he can execute a new skill perfectly. And he does so on his own terms.

So why did I think reading would be any different?

I started teaching him when he was in preschool and he picked it up so quickly I was shocked. Even sight words and compound words came easily to him, but there was one catch- he didn’t want to do it. When Big Bro was that age, he’d persevere through beginner books and earn a sticker upon completion. He’d read them again and again. Little Bro had to be coaxed into one book at a time. He breezed through and never picked it back up. When he started kindergarten, he only brought home picture books from the library.

“You can ask the librarian to show you some more challenging books,” I said. He’d shrug and reassure me that he liked the pictures.

Kindergarten reading homework turned into arguments and stalling tactics and frustration. I knew he could do it. He just didn’t want to. I almost came to terms with having one reader, and one child who preferred anything else.

Then came a trip to the used bookstore in Tucson with his older cousins. As we browsed the kids section, he laid his eyes on the Captain Underpants series. Full of potty humor and wacky illustrations, it was just the right combination to spark his interest and he asked for not one- but two of the books to take home. He finished them both within the next 48 hours.

It wasn’t that he disliked reading. He just hadn’t found the right book.

Just when I think I’ve reached most of the parenting milestones, another one hits me like a ton of bricks.

For nearly nine years, we’ve been lucky enough to live next door to an amazing family. Big Bro was just about two when we met, and their daughters were just a bit older. We’d go to the neighborhood park, hang out on the front lawn, and invite each other over for birthdays. Before we knew it, theirs was a family of six and ours of four. Her son and Little Bro are just months apart. All of the kids play together almost every day, riding bikes, selling lemonade, pretending school, and most recently building worlds of their own in Minecraft. Their daughter was Big Bro’s first friend. She’s one of his best friends.

And two weeks ago, they moved.

They say having a child is like having your heart on the outside of your body. I watched Big Bro help his friends pack their things. I watched as his heart- my heart- broke. It’s the first time he’s experienced such a big change in a friendship like this. They won’t be knocking on the door shortly after getting home from school. Five kids won’t be sauntering through my kitchen for granola bars or darting in to get more toys to take outside. While I’m bummed about it too, nothing compared to the gut-punch of seeing my son feel that pain. I held him while he cried. I let him be sad. I handed him a pencil and paper.

As parents, we’d love for our kids to feel nothing but happiness, but that’s just not the case. I can’t put a band-aid on it and make it all better.

Thankfully, our neighbors are moving a mere three miles away. While it won’t be the same, we’ll still find a way to play.

Right after the holiday season, I find myself taking inventory of the clothes and toys we no longer need and cleaning house to make way for whatever new trends capture the attention of these two energetic, curious boys. As I stood in our playroom, looking at a 2-foot-tall plastic Paw Patrol tower and thinking of all the space it would free up in our closet, I realized we’d probably seen the last of Chase, Marshall, Sky and their adventures. Now it’s all dragons, Minecraft and Jedi.

We celebrated both of their birthdays with more than 20 other children from their kindergarten and third grade classes, all armed with inflatable lightsabers running around our Regional Park. It was loud, it was chaos. It was a blast. They hardly needed our intervention, just the occasional bottle of Gatorade or slice of pizza between sprints to and from the jungle gym with their friends. Still wrapped in their imagination, but capable of articulating and elaborating their own world with one another, their ages are so fun.

We sang them into years nine and six, which I’m sure will bring unique challenges just like every other phase, but with it also comes the joy of watching them develop stronger friendships, hone their talents, and learn every day. They opened their gifts of Pokemon, Star Wars and Minecraft-themed toys. Not a member of the Paw Patrol in sight. Though the tower still sits in our playroom closet just in case the neighbor visits. We’ll free up the space eventually.

At age nine, Big B loves to cook, play with friends, ride his bike, play guitar and basketball, and read. He dislikes going to bed and turning off video games.

At age six, Little B loves desserts, playing with friends, building legos, arts and crafts, drawing, and soccer. He dislikes going to bed and homework.