No words needed. This kid is right at home in the role of ski bum.

If you know me, you know I’m a huge fan of public transportation. Here in Snowmass they have both a great local bus system as well as inter-town bus system, and they are both FREE. It’s what we use to get around. It’s awesome. And so is the view from one of our bus stops.

With all the traveling we have done there have rarely been any perks. We are a cattle class, cheapest flight sort or family. Period. But I can’t complain as I get to travel. A lot.

When we board airplanes I ignore the first class area. What you don’t know about, you won’t desire. Ignorance has been my bliss.

That all being said, my husband just got a credit card associated with an airline. This card gives us membership to the frequent flyer club allowing us to ‘hang out’ in their club room at the airport. I always imagined a swanky bar full of people laughing passing the hours until it’s time to board their flight. It might be that in the evening, but right now at 8am it’s a quiet spot where we can comfortably sit and enjoy a free cup if coffee, orange juice and a selection of breakfast foods.
The kids are safe and comfortable watching their devices.

Travel just got significantly better.

It’s here, not the place so much, but here, with these people, that I am so happy to be snowed in. I love my family. I love their company, their kindness, their silliness, their sarcasm, their smarts, but most of all their love. I am starting to regret the moment a few hours from now where I need to bid them farewell. Breaks my heart to know that I’ll have to wait a bit until I see them again.

It’s true. I have a difficult time hiding my excitement. And I was really excited to be coming home.
I left beautiful sunny Portugal.

And I arrived to crappy weather in Newark, NJ.

But who cares. I knew my sister was waiting for me. I caught myself clapping when I stepped off the plane. And again when I saw my bag. I think I may have jumped a little too. Then after clearing customs where I had declared my pumpkin seeds I loudly said, ‘YES!’ And gave a fist jab. Immediately I realized I must have sounded like someone happy to have gotten away with something, so I followed it with, ‘I’m so happy to see my sister.’ I said this to no one in particular of course, but just in case the customs officers thought I was up to no good. Which if course I’m not;)
But no cloudy day is a match for the sunshine that is my sister.

Yeah!!! I’m home!!!

It’s a funny thing about the way we choose to live our lives. I’m so happy that we are living this adventure the way we are. Inevitably though, there is something we miss. For me it’s time with family and friends we are away from. But today, I’m going HOME!!! My excitement has brought me to tears. I’m thrilled to have this week with my family and friends. But my countdown to see my kids has begun. They will be staying behind to finish another week if school. These mixed emotions are something we have become accustomed to. It is the price we pay for having been

blessed with so many wonderful friends and family who just happen to live in different countries.

My husband has this need to insult things he does not like. This includes food. So instead of saying chestnuts, he refers to them as bark. It’s funny, but even though I love eating chestnuts I am not sure if even I think they taste that great. Does that make sense?

When I was a little girl I remember that they were a rarity. Something that was very much seasonal, unlike most foods sold in America. And there was work involved in roasting them. You see, you can’t just throw them on the fire, you need to score the shell which is very tough to cut through. If you ask me to describe their taste I can’t come up with much more than bland. But I still love them.

In the States they were something my mom would prepare. Or when I was older, if I was ‘lucky’ I could buy some in Manhattan from vendor on street corners, but they were never good. Even knowing that they would taste bad, I would still buy them. I think it’s because chestnuts were and still are a memory trigger. Eating them reminds me of our second home in Connecticut. The one where we lived with Clara P. Don’t ask me why. They just do. That was an incredibly wonderful time for me. My carefree childhood memories we almost all formed while living there. We lived in a great  house, downstairs from a wonderful friend, a sister almost. Our neighborhood was fun. And I was a kid, with a mom. I am happy just thinking how nice it was.

So, you can probably understand why I stop and buy chestnuts, castanhas as we call them, just about every time I walk by this lady. She is probably the age my mother would be. Her life seems as if it was a bit tougher than my mom’s. But she is nice, she smiles and she serves me warm, freshly roasted chestnuts. And I know too well that her cart will disappear when the season ends. So I will savor each and every one until it does.

Yes, yes, I know I owe you a post on Paris. Thing is 5th grade (and 3rd grade too) is really hard here in Portugal. So hard that while we were on holiday, a holiday that was made to be a break from school, my kids had homework. Every night in Paris my son made sure he got a very good journal entry in and my daughter and I studied. I am not a tiger mom. Not at all. I think at this age kids should be managing their work on their own. I am all about fostering independence. Thing is, the amount of work and content to be learned is crazy. Then add that my kids are doing this in a second language and it’s kind of insane. THEN ADD the fact that my kids are very booked up with almost daily activities (their choice, not mine), we have a school madness trifecta.

About a month and a half  into this school year, right after my daughter had her first ‘testes’ we realized that we were not in Kansas anymore. When her first test in English came back with a not so great school, then her math test score was not so hot either, then history…. we knew we needed to change things. We knew she was working very hard, but she was devastated with her results. I could have insisted that she drop out of swim and stay after school every day for homework help, but that just didn’t seem right. We love her involvement with her swim team, and she is loving her dance class, so we decided to keep those.

For one we knew that she needed to learn to study. That I could help her with. But first I needed to learn what she was learning. And so I have. Holy cow. I have learned heaps of new Portuguese vocabulary in science and history/geography. We could have insisted she make all her study materials, but that would take heaps of time she does not have so this year, and this year only I will make them for her. And for her friends. We share. See I am not a tiger mom. I do not want my daughter to be the best. I want all the kids in her class to do well too.

So last week the kid had 4 tests. 5 if you found he one she had the Friday before. On Friday I decided we needed to celebrate these kids’ hard work. And we did.

A friend, whose child is in the class had once asked me what grade I told Lana she needed to get. I told her that I would accept, and be happy with any grade if I thought my child had done her best. And that is what I was celebrating for all these girls. They all had worked so hard and done their best.

Well today my daughter received her results in 3 tests: English, Science and French, and in all three the received a Muito Bom. Very good. I would say that translates to a B+. I don’t know about you, but I am so proud of that kid.

Yesterday when we were leaving school I Iooked at her. Her beautiful highlights in her hair reflecting the last of the day’s sunlight. One wisp of hair was flapping out of her hair tie. She looked so beautiful and confident. And I too was proud. Muito Bom Lana Banana, muito bom indeed.