Last month my family spent six beautiful days on vacation near Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.  Someday I'd like to take the kids to Charleston for its history, both important and terrible. Prior to the Civil War, Charleston (a 90-minute drive from Myrtle) was the capital of the slave-trade industry, with as many as 40 percent of all enslaved Africans arriving at the New World through its port. It's essential to me that my children learn the unvarnished truth about this darkness in our national history, so they can better understand America as a whole.  But not yet. At 7 and 10, they're still too young to understand and appreciate seeing the historical artifacts of slavery in person. Rather than being educational, I think Charleston's stories would be deeply upsetting to them. So we stuck to the greater Myrtle Beach area on this trip.    It's a two-day, 700-mile drive to get there, so by the time we arrived at the resort my children were eager to run, make lots of noi...

Into every family vacation, a little misfortune must fall. Here's how to tell when it's time to end your beach vacation: 10. A wave steals husband's sunglasses  9. Backs of your hands get sunburned 8. Found a tick in the 6-year-old's hair 7. Somebody mentions the alligators at the state park, "but they don't bother you none" 6. Husband loses his hat 5. 9-year-old throws tantrum that we never let him do anything (while holding a boogie board, standing in the ocean, on vacation) 4. Sprained your ankle 10 minutes into a trip to the beach 3. 6-year-old gets stung by a jellyfish, has complete freak-out melt-down screaming on the beach 2. You run out of Blue Bell ice cream 1. Electricity goes out at the resort when it's 93 degrees outside These, my friends, are sure signs that it's time to pack it up, at least until next year. 6-year-old: "Are we going to take any ice cream home?"  

You know those Lifetime Channel movies where the plucky protagonist faces a series of improbable circumstances, yet somehow prevails and manages to live (mostly) Happily Ever After? That happened to me a few months ago. In fact, I'm pretty sure the Lifetime Network is right now drawing up a contract for the rights to the story of my Jamaican vacation. Here is your exclusive sneak peek into that made-for-television event. (Please note: the following dramatic re-telling contains graphic references to Bob Marley, driving on the wrong side of the road, blood, hospitals, Pampers, believing in yourself, fully automatic machine guns, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, and a possible sprained ankle. It's also pretty long. Reader discretion is strongly advised.) SCENE: DOCTOR'S OFFICE    Our movie opens on an attractive couple played by Kate Mara (that's me) and Hugh Jackman in a skullcap (that's the hubs) sitting in a doctor's exam room. A brunette nurse says,...

I have a friend who I really like. She's raising three lovely children, managing a household, and watches other peoples' kids to boot. She sews prodigiously and makes chocolate zucchini waffles. Seriously, who does that? Stop making the rest of us look bad, Julie. Although we have different parenting styles, I think she's a great mother. A few weeks ago Julie let slip that she has never spent more than eight consecutive hours away from her 2-year-old. That's the equivalent of one work day, or how long I can sit on the couch and binge-watch Arrested Development. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I should hand her a merit badge or book her a private padded room. As I pack my bags for six blessed, glorious days without my little cherub, I realize that this is where I draw the line. I need time away. Parenting a young child can be a lot like driving through the Washburn Tunnel, buried 85 feet under the muddy waters of the Houston Ship Channel. It's isolating, it...

We've just returned from the kiddo's first multi-day out-of-town trip. It was more challenging than I thought it would be, but I think we all learned a little something about ourselves. I, for example, learned that I do not want to take any more multi-day out-of-town trips with a toddler. Here are a few other nuggets of knowledge I collected along the way: 1. The Golden Age of air travel is over. Welcome to the Brown Age. The flight did not start out great. At our airport gate, the gate associate flatly told me that they no longer let families with young children pre-board unless you're carrying a car seat for them to ride in. That is to say: unless you have purchased a seat for your child, your child's safety and your convenience on the jetway are worth less than a bag of stale peanuts. I was left trying to collapse my stroller with one hand and wrangle my child with the other so he did could not (A) wander into the plane unaccompanied, enter the cockpit, and push a...

I'm a nervous traveler. I arrive at my airport two hours early and make a beeline for my gate. Then I sit at the gate and check the gate number, the gate display info, my ticket, my watch, the gate number, my watch, the gate display info, my ticket, my ticket again just to make sure, my back pocket to make sure I haven't dropped my driver's license somewhere between security and the gate, and my gate number again. My hubs, on the other hand, is rarely rattled. He doesn't get nervous traveling, even that time he was almost arrested on a train in Germany. That's why my husband and I are good travel partners. He is in charge of getting me where I need to go with the least amount of anxiety possible, and I am in charge of making sure all of his underwear fits into his carry-on. It's win-win (especially for the other vacationers who don't have to see his Frank and Beans all week). However, our nice set-up is about to get blown to smithereens when I board a plan...