Treehouses, Cheese Wheels, and Coming Home

Well…it’s been a few days since my last entry. After our kangaroo adventure, we were up early to meet Kelly and Acaidia at the Imagine Children’s Museum in Anacortes. The fifty-minute drive was an easy trade for one of the coolest children’s museums we’ve ever visited.

Imagine isn’t just a museum, it’s essentially a giant invitation for kids to let their imaginations run wild. Every corner seems to lead to another discovery. There are towering climbing structures woven together with rope bridges that make you feel like you’ve wandered into a forest canopy. Tiny storefronts and imaginative play spaces transform children into chefs, mechanics, veterinarians, and shopkeepers within minutes. A hands-on water exhibit sends streams flowing through locks, dams, and channels while soaked children laugh uncontrollably. Upstairs, glowing neon lights, mirrors, and colorful projections create a room that feels halfway between an art installation and a dance party. Needless to say… Joni was in heaven.

She and Acadia scampered across the treehouse rope bridges like little mountain goats, splashed endlessly at the water tables, and danced beneath the glowing lights with the sort of uninhibited joy that only toddlers seem capable of.

Unfortunately, even paradise has a toddler-imposed time limit. About ninety minutes in, the exhaustion hit all at once. Tiny yawns became rubbing eyes, rubbing eyes became irrational negotiations, and we knew our window had closed. We said goodbye to Kelly and made the drive back toward Stanwood for her nap.

Originally, the rest of the day was supposed to be wonderfully lazy. One final evening at the beach house. But by that point we’d explored nearly every corner of the area, and a spontaneous decision suddenly sounded like the right one. Within an hour we had packed everything, loaded the SUV, and decided to head back to Sam and Mary Jo’s a day early. 

Google Maps apparently interpreted “fastest route” as “show them every rural road in western Washington.” We spent the next couple of hours winding through farmland, forests, and roads so narrow they seemed to exist solely for local residents and confused tourists. It was scenic, peaceful, and just a little questionable at times.

Thankfully, we eventually arrived safely, enjoyed another wonderful dinner, and settled in for the night.

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The next day couldn’t have been much more relaxing.

The morning disappeared into the simple rhythm that had become our vacation routine: coffee, slow breakfasts, and watching the girls play.

That evening we took Joni swimming, where to cold pool was not her favorite but she continues to thrive in these wet encounters. Later, the Ecks graciously volunteered to watch both girls while Emily and I escaped for a date night.

We drove to Kirkland and had dinner at Rimini, a cozy little Italian restaurant that somehow managed to feel both elegant and intimate without trying too hard. The Godfather played in the background, conversations drifted loudly through the room, and the aroma of garlic, butter, and fresh pasta made it nearly impossible to order just one course. 

Emily ordered the restaurant’s signature pasta, and the server wheeled an enormous wheel of aged Parmesan directly to our table. Fresh pasta disappeared into its hollowed center before being tossed with practiced flair as the warm cheese slowly melted into a silky sauce right before our eyes. It was equal parts dinner and theater.

Naturally, we paired it with a phenomenal bottle of wine. For a few hours, life slowed down. No diapers. No chasing toddlers. Just great food, great conversation, and a reminder that we’re still capable of having date nights. Eventually we made our way home to pack for yet another early morning departure.

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Our flight to Ketchikan arrived far too soon.

Thankfully, the Alaska Airlines Lounge worked its usual magic. Everyone was fed, hydrated, and had clean diapers. Frankly, that’s about all you can ask for before flying with two small children.

The flight itself went remarkably well, thanks in no small part to Emily, who spent much of it expertly wrangling an energetic Joni while the rest of us offered moral support.

When we landed in Ketchikan, the weather greeted us with something that feels almost mythical for Southeast Alaska: Sunshine.

As wonderful as this vacation has been, nothing quite compares to coming home.

Mom had the house looking absolutely immaculate and had stocked it with enough food to feed a small village. She and Dad immediately scooped up the girls, who happily soaked up every ounce of attention from Noni and Papi while proudly showing off everything they’d learned over the past few weeks.

The rest of the afternoon was spent watching Joni discover a fresh collection of toys, each one somehow becoming her new favorite. 

That evening my parents hosted an Irish-themed dinner with the Gallaways, and, in true Mom fashion, “theme dinner” meant complete commitment. Authentic Irish recipes. Irish music filling the house. Thoughtfully paired drinks.

Enough food for everyone to have thirds if they wanted.

It was one of those evenings where conversation stretches long after dinner ends and nobody seems particularly interested in leaving the table.

Eventually, we called it a night.

Evie reminded us that vacations may end, but newborn sleep schedules do not, making for a somewhat fitful evening.

Still, spirits are high.

Tomorrow the Hogans arrive, and if this trip has taught me anything, it’s that the best stories usually begin when more family shows up.

Margaritas, Rainbows, and the Perfect Summer Weekend

After a solid night’s sleep, we woke to a gentle rain tapping against the windows. For the first time in days, Mother Nature encouraged us to slow down, so we happily accepted the invitation.

The beach house was cozy enough, although it clearly wasn’t designed by anyone who had ever met a toddler. Every bedroom had enormous windows with breathtaking views…and exactly zero shades. During the middle of the summer solstice, bedtime looked suspiciously like high noon. To compensate we slept Joni in the windowless bathroom and Evie in a renovated garage (for sound). 

The following morning we stocked up on groceries before Emily’s parents arrived bearing one of the greatest gifts any traveling family can receive: A homemade spaghetti dinner. Forget five-star restaurants. Nothing beats a meal someone else lovingly cooked.

After lunch we spent the afternoon exploring Camano Island together. We wandered through beautiful state parks, discovered quiet beaches, and admired the endless views across Puget Sound. It felt like one of those classic Pacific Northwest days where every road seems to lead somewhere beautiful. On the drive home we stopped by the waterfront estate of one of Sam’s friends. 

Calling it “a nice house” would be like calling the Grand Canyon “a decent hole.” Perched high above the water with perfectly manicured grounds and panoramic views stretching for miles, it was the kind of place that quietly reminds you there are still levels to aspire to in life. We enjoyed a wonderful visit, sipping wine, swapping stories, and imagining what it would be like to wake up to that view every morning.

Back at the beach house, things escalated. We had picked up a one-liter jug of margaritas. Mary Jo had thoughtfully brought…two more. As any responsible adults would do, we decided to sample them. One margarita became two. Two somehow became two and a half jugs finished.

At roughly that point, Mary Jo confidently announced that there was absolutely no chance they were driving home that evening.

As if the day hadn’t already delivered enough, the sunset that evening was breathtaking. Brilliant oranges and pinks lit up the sky before giving way to one of the most vibrant rainbows I’ve ever seen.

In one of the night’s funniest moments, a delightfully tipsy Mary Jo immediately called the friend we’d visited earlier, not to thank him for hosting us, but to make absolutely certain he knew there was a rainbow outside. 

She delivered the breaking weather report with complete sincerity. It was equal parts hilarious and wholesome.

The rest of the evening was spent laughing around the table, telling stories, finishing off the margaritas, and enjoying one of those nights that nobody planned but everyone remembers. 

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The following morning arrived a little earlier than everyone would have preferred.

The girls, blissfully unaware of adult decision-making, were up and ready for adventure while the rest of the house experienced what can only be described as staggered, coffee-dependent resurrections.

I had the early shift with Joni and Evie and had a front-row seat to everyone’s painfully slow emergence from their bedrooms. Thank god for caffeine.  By breakfast, everyone had rallied. Even better, Kelly and her family were coming over for the day. The weather couldn’t have been more perfect. Warm sunshine. Blue skies. 

Joni and Acadia immediately disappeared into their own little world, playing together for hours as if they’d been best friends forever.

Mary Jo had packed an entire collection of activities for the girls.  They painted rocks with water, explored the beach, dug in the sand, and laughed hysterically every time we brought out the colorful parachute. Every adult eventually took a turn making it billow through the air while the girls squealed underneath. 

Meanwhile, the grown-ups adopted a slower pace. Drinks appeared. Snacks multiplied.

Conversations drifted from one topic to another while the children entertained themselves remarkably well.

By dinner, the Hogan family arrived, and suddenly the quiet beach house transformed into a full family gathering. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends all met Evie for the first time while burgers sizzled on the grill and cocktails magically kept refilling themselves. The kids played until they literally couldn’t anymore. 

Honestly…

It was just about a perfect summer day. 

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The next morning featured a predictable amount of hangover management, but we still managed to rally for another adventure.

This time it was a kangaroo farm.

Only on vacation do you wake up thinking, “Today seems like a good day to feed kangaroos.” 

Joni absolutely loved it.

She fed kangaroos, petted wallabies, alpacas, goats, and just about every friendly animal willing to accept snacks from an enthusiastic toddler. Watching her cautiously offer food before erupting into laughter every time an animal took it never got old. 

We finished the evening exactly the way every summer vacation should end, with a bonfire on the beach.

As the sun slowly disappeared beyond the water, we roasted marshmallows, assembled s’mores. The adults were relaxed.  The fire crackled. And for a little while, there was nowhere else we’d rather have been. 

So far, this trip has been everything we’d hoped for…and maybe a little more.

Alpacas, Reporters, and the Longest Ferry Day

 

Our final full day on San Juan Island was exactly what vacations are supposed to be. Relaxing.

Our only official outing was a visit to the local alpaca farm, and I wasn’t prepared for just how adorable those fuzzy little creatures would be. Joni certainly wasn’t either. She cautiously fed a few alpacas before quickly deciding they were among the greatest inventions in the history of mankind.

As if that wasn’t memorable enough, there happened to be a reporter from the Cascadia Daily Newsvisiting the farm to write a feature on San Juan Island attractions. She was immediately drawn to Joni, who was happily feeding alpacas with complete toddler confidence. 

The reporter snapped photo after photo before laughing and telling us that one of them would probably end up on the cover. 

If you happen to be reading the Cascadia Daily News and spot a tiny brunette girl grinning ear to ear while feeding an alpaca…well…we know her. The rest of the day unfolded at exactly the pace we’d hoped for all week. No schedules. No rushing. No frantic loading of children into car seats. Just a peaceful afternoon around the Airbnb soaking in our last few hours on the island. 

That evening Emily and I even managed a proper date night while Vidah stayed behind with the girls. It felt wonderfully normal. We enjoyed a leisurely dinner, great conversation, and a fantastic bottle of wine. No one needed a diaper change. Nobody threw food. No one attempted to climb onto the table. Highly recommend date nights.

What a relaxing day…which, naturally, meant the following day would make up for it. 

Checkout was at 11:00 a.m. Our ferry reservation? 4:00 p.m. No problem.

Our brilliantly engineered parenting strategy was simple: clean the Airbnb, pack the SUV, then spend a couple hours driving around the island while both girls peacefully napped in their car seats. They would awaken refreshed just in time for the ferry, and everyone would live happily ever after. The plan was flawless however reality disagreed.

We managed to clean the house, pack everything, and check out on time. Then we set off on our scenic island drive, fully expecting two sleeping children within minutes. Instead, after nearly an hour and a half of driving, Joni managed roughly thirty minutes of sleep before being awakened by her little sister’s passionate objections to napping. So much for Plan A.

We stopped at Downriggers in Friday Harbor for lunch before wandering over to the Whale Museum. While we didn’t find any actual orcas, Joni was perfectly content riding a little whale-shaped seesaw, which in toddler terms is honestly just as exciting. 

Next came one of her favorite vacation traditions: the local library. She wandered from toy to toy with such enthusiasm that the librarians completely fell under her spell. Before we left, they had unofficially enrolled her in the summer reading program just so they could give her a free children’s book. 

Eventually it was time to line up for the ferry. Which meant sitting in the car. With two children. For an hour. Waiting.

If you’ve never experienced this particular form of endurance sport, count yourself fortunate. Once aboard, all of the adults were running on fumes, so Vidah stayed behind in the SUV to catch a well-earned nap while Emily and I took Joni exploring.

She was, once again, the unofficial entertainment for the entire ferry. She toddled nearly every hallway on the ship, waved enthusiastically at strangers, and spent long stretches standing proudly on the bow, staring out over the water with the wind in her hair. Passengers smiled everywhere we went. She was adorable. 

But beneath the endless curiosity were the unmistakable signs of a toddler who was hanging on by the tiniest of emotional threads. Every parent knows the look.

They’re still smiling…

…until suddenly they aren’t.

The unraveling began the moment we drove off the ferry. Both girls decided they had reached their absolute limit. The chorus of crying began before we’d even cleared the terminal and continued all the way to Costco.

By the time we arrived, everyone was exhausted, hungry, wearing increasingly questionable diapers, and wondering why traveling with children had ever seemed like a good idea. Fortunately, Costco pizza exists.

Never has a greasy slice of pepperoni tasted so restorative. Miraculously, food solved almost everything. The crying stopped. The adults regained the ability to think. We bought groceries, drove to our next Airbnb near the beach, unloaded what felt like seventeen thousand pounds of luggage, and collapsed into bed.