Note: I started my writing journey for two reasons. First, I love to “dabble” in writing, and second, I love to travel. So, in my search for “what’s next,” I decided to try to connect these two interests. The following piece is a Part 2, so if you haven’t already, first go read Part 1. This is my attempt to continue my love for writing, loosely tie it to travel, and take a stab at writing about my personal experiences. Thanks for reading.

Arrival in Paradise: 24-Hour Bedside Service

The ambulance doors swung open, and I caught a glimpse of the cold, blustery day. It was Saturday morning, and I had just arrived at my new “extended stay” accommodations, following a 12-hour tumultuous stay in a free-standing emergency department in my hometown. In an attempt to comfort me, the friendly paramedics wrapped me in warm blankets, wheeled me through the sterile, all-white hallways, and delivered me to my bedside, where I reluctantly embraced my new destination.

Exhausted and looking forward to some pain relief in my breast, I tried to be grateful for the bed by the door. However, my roommate already had visitors and I realized I’d have to walk past them every time I needed the bathroom. Cue my backside making the grand tour of the room... over and over and over again.

As I sat in my bed, bewildered and a little nervous, I tried to focus on the nursing assistant who eagerly greeted me with my "Welcome Kit" and, yes, the coveted call button. I clung to the hope that things could only get better from here. I was not convinced this would mark the turning point.

Getting to the Root of the Problem: We Needed More Answers

Time Ticks Slowly

A few endless hours alone in my room, in pain, with high fevers, my husband miles away, my roommate surrounded by family, weary of my care…my mind began to race. Every panicked thought bombarded me.

Sure - I was in extreme pain but the driving force that had me hustling to the ER was the pink line extending up my chest. Ever since I could remember it seemed to be common knowledge - Watch the pink line. Circle the pink line. If it grows past the circle it can enter your bloodstream. Don’t mess around with the pink line. I grew up fearing the PINK LINE!

Up to this moment - No one had circled my pink line. In fact, not one person had looked at it since arriving in the ER 12 hours ago.

On the verge of a breakdown, I tearfully called my nurse, sobbing as I shared my concerns about the PINK LINE.

I imagine, his desire to get me to stop sobbing prompted him to quickly tend to my every need. He hurriedly called my doctor and started to put things in motion. He truly was incredible. Right in the midst of my mini meltdown and subsequent feeling of shame for unleashing my anxiety on my nurse, I was lucky enough that my roomie was discharged. I hid my face under the covers, meekly waving goodbye as her and her family paraded past my bed. After all, the thin curtain between our beds provided just enough privacy to ensure they caught every tearful word.

A doctor finally came in to check the pink line, and though she didn’t circle the pink line (they couldn’t find a surgical marker), I was grateful to have been heard. For the remainder of the day, I battled high fevers, shivering violently with chills while being plied me with meds to manage the intense pain. However, relief was slow.

Old School Healing

Let me pause to tell you about my nursing assistant, a seasoned, nurturing woman with a wealth of wisdom passed down through generations. When my fever wouldn't break– simmering at 103, she was not messing around. Jumping into action, she pulled out her home remedies. First, she suggested ice packs all over my body. Mind you I am shivering and begging for more blankets but - ok fine - bring on the ice! The ice was startling against my burning skin but soon I craved the ice more than the blankets.

Gaining my trust, she didn’t stop there! The nurse and I stared in surprise as she presented her next remedy. She asked if she could put ice cold wet socks on my feet. I was confused (high fever and all) and I wasn’t sure what she was trying to say so I politely declined. She watched me like a hawk and within an hour she began to mention the efficacy of the socks.

Ok fine. Try the socks, But just know you are coercing me, I managed to joke. My amazing but maybe a bit new to the floor nurse, just shook his head and couldn't believe I was letting her do this to me.

But it should be no surprise… it was AMAZING… until my fever finally broke, and then, yuck, my feet became hot and steamy. After that, I just wanted them off, fast.

As day turned into night, my pain remained high but the meds began to take off the edge. I updated my husband who was still in Colorado and then desperately tried to sleep.

Break of Dawn – Still No Answers – Day 2

I managed to sleep through the night, but the fever and confusion kept me in a haze. The early dawn arrived, and still, no answers. Someone came in to draw blood from my hand. I lifted my left arm without opening my eyes, too exhausted to fully engage. Later that day, I would be frustrated with myself for not paying more attention to this encounter, the only evidence of her presence was a small piece of white cotton taped to my hand.

The hours were a blur, my body burning with fever, my mind foggy. I was on two very strong antibiotics, but my pain was mounting. I started to feel discomfort in my IV arm, and when I pulled back my blanket, I saw it was red and swollen. "Your IV has blown," the nurse said. "This antibiotic is too strong for your veins. It happens often with this medication. We need to remove the IV."

That was when I began to understand the basics of nursing 101. Hospital nurses, at least on this floor, don’t typically run IVs or draw blood. That’s handled by different departments. Often by the time you get to the floor, your IV is already in place. But my nurse tried to run my IV, and after several painful attempts, he admitted he wasn’t good at it. Further spiking my anxiety, I encouraged him to call in the ED ultrasound IV team. The process dragged on, with several nurses attempting, but nothing worked. Only after multiple failed attempts did they finally call the ultrasound IV team. Success came in my right hand but by then, both arms were swollen, red, and painful.

As you can imagine, I was exhausted. It was late afternoon, when the infectious disease doctor came and prescribed a broader antibiotic, one that would work faster, and take the place of the harsh antibiotic. She explained she would monitor how I responded to the new medication.

At first, I took this as excellent news. I thought, This is it. A few rounds of antibiotics, and I’ll be on my way. But then she mentioned something that set me back. She explained that the blood cultures, which would take 24 to 48 hours to develop would determine the exact antibiotic to target the infection.

She asked, "Did you get blood cultures?" I said yes, recalling the blood draw. But my nurse glanced at my hand skeptically. He asked, "Did she stick you in both hands and draw several vials?" I told him I didn’t know (I’d been asleep) but I was sure only one hand had been used. Despite the nurse’s doubts, he seemed to accept my answer instead of investigating further.

Spoiler: Turns out, they never did my culture. The next day, (24 hours later) I asked the morning phlebotomist about the blood draw. Her response put me on high alert. "Oh, yeah, I saw that one - no one did that draw. But it expired." I couldn’t believe my ears. How did no one notice? Why hadn’t anyone caught it sooner?

Panicked and mad, I called my nurse. That was the missing link, the blood culture we needed to identify the infection and get the specific antibiotic to target it. Without it, my care had been delayed, and I was now in a dangerous limbo. My confidence in the team was slipping, especially since I was the one who caught the mistake. To make matters worse, the nursing assistant, Buddy, decided he was going to ‘save the day’ by drawing the blood cultures himself, instead of waiting for a new order. Well, we already know the status of my veins….so after many sticks later, he finally had what he needed. I feared my arms would never be the same.

More Fear and Anxiety

Amid the chaos, my husband called, reminding me he was boarding his flight and would be back in Ohio late that night. Even though I wouldn’t see him until the next day, it was comforting to know he was heading back home to the kids.

While I tried to distract myself by contemplating lunch options (which were gross) and trying to order a Gatorade (which I was told I could only have if someone wrote an order), my breast surgeon arrived. Picture a no-frills, straight-to-business woman. She walked in and wasted no time, delivering a punch-to-the-gut question:

'Do you want to have surgery today?'

Though she was blunt, her casual tone made me believe I had a choice - that surgery was just an option to speed up the treatment. My response was, 'No thanks, I just want to see how the antibiotics that were just changed will work.’

I thought, Why wouldn’t we do that? The infectious disease doctor hadn’t mentioned surgery so clearly she didn’t think I needed it.

But the surgeon continued. She began to explain the surgery in excruciating detail - a deep incision, an open wound, no stitches, months of recovery, constant wound care. My stomach twisted with dread. I didn’t want that. And besides, there was no way I was going into surgery before my husband returned.

I convinced myself I was in control, that I had choices. Although I was alert enough to check my blood work results on the online chart, the elevated labs didn’t register. I suppose this was a good defense mechanism, but the results didn’t feel urgent. My hospital team did a perfect job of making me feel like I was making decisions, like I could still guide my care. But I would soon learn just how completely out of control I truly was.

Hurry up - So You can Wait: Can I take a shower?

The next morning, Monday, day three of my hospital stay, my fevers continued relentlessly, with no break. The antibiotics, I would learn later, weren’t working. Weak and dizzy, I teetered between sweating and shivering. My thick, curly hair felt like a rat’s nest, my flimsy gown was soaked through, and I’m sure I was a sight. However, when I finally managed to shuffle to the bathroom, dragging my IV cart behind me, I didn’t even think to look in the mirror. I was concentrating so hard on not collapsing, which, at this point, was a very real concern.

As I shuffled back into bed, I was relieved my husband had finally arrived. He brought me some warm clothes, a sweater and shampoo and conditioner! As I had a fleeting thought that maybe I could have a shower, my favorite nurse came bearing news. Surgery was scheduled for 5 PM.

SURGERY! What? No, not the surgery the doctor described. The infectious disease doctor just told me she was monitoring to see how I responded to the new antibiotics. I didn’t choose surgery.

Gripped with fear, I boldly requested a meeting with the breast surgeon so I could let her know I would like to give the antibiotics time to work. Relieved to see the doctor, she assured me that she had to reserve the 5 PM operating room but it would be canceled if I didn’t need it. She further explained that I needed an ultrasound to determine if the infection could be removed by draining it with an ultrasound guided needle. The procedure would start with a preliminary ultrasound to identify the location of the abscess and see if a needle extract could be successful.

Calmed by her explanation, I asked when they would come for me, and she reassured me I’d have time for a quick shower. My course of antibiotics was finished, so the IV was disconnected, and the nurses hastily taped my IV to a plastic bag. I shuffled toward the shower, eager but apprehensive. My long, thick, curly hair, tangled and no doubt in need of multiple washes, made the prospect daunting. I know that those with curly hair, can relate to this thought process. It felt like a risky move, but I desperately wanted to try.

I hesitantly stepped under the hot trickle of water, and my husband, trying to be helpful, handed me a washcloth and body soap. ABSOLUTELY not! My hair was the first priority. I shrieked - “They’re coming any minute, and my hair needs to be washed!”

You may guess how this ends. No sooner had I begun to lather, my nurse was knocking at the door apologetically exclaiming that they were here to get me. Let me tell you - endless waiting is the capstone to any hospital stay. Why, when I need this time, are they so speedy?

I quickly rinsed the soap from my hair, and before I could second-guess it I grabbed the conditioner for a two-second attempt - no idea how I accomplished this so quickly - rinsed my body, and got out! I ineffectively brushed the snarls, threw my hair in a towel, and somehow managed to throw on a gown.

So much for a semi-relaxing shower.

Covered in a blanket with a towel on my head, I was wheeled through the hospital hallways to a waiting area. I noticed the nurses talking in hushed tones, likely seeing the towel on my head indicating I was rushed down. The nurse who seemingly lost the game of ‘no you tell her’ hesitantly came over to inform me apologetically, “We are sorry there is a bit of a wait.”

You would think this fiery Italian would have had something to say about this wait. At this point, rushing had taken every bit of energy I had, and I was too exhausted to care that I could’ve taken a decent shower.

As I waited for 30 minutes, shivering in the cold, sterile hallway, my husband nervously waiting by my side, I couldn’t help but reflect on my situation. I clung to my faith, determined to find gratitude and to thank God. At least I had gotten a mini shower, and I was one step closer to a test that might finally give me and my doctors some answers.

The Results

As I mentioned, up to this point I had been painfully naive about my situation. Although I continued to check my online chart and believed I was keeping up with what the nurses and doctors were telling me, I remained unaware of the severity of my condition.

My understanding was that if the initial ultrasound showed an aspiration was possible, that would be the only necessary treatment. The doctor would aspirate the wound, and surgery would not be necessary. I optimistically clung to this outcome.

I received what I thought was great news - the results indicated I was able to go in for the aspiration. I was so relieved. This is going to work, I thought. They can just drain it, and I won’t need surgery. As I lay on the table, I told the nurse how glad I was that the doctor could do this and that surgery would be avoided. The nurse looked at me with an expression I was quickly learning to fear. She asked me to make sure to have that same discussion with the doctor when she came in to do the procedure.

So, when the doctor arrived, I studiously explained, “If you get more than 50%, my doctor said I won’t need surgery.” Her response shattered my hopes. “I’m going in to take enough for a culture. I’ll take as much as I can, but my only goal is the culture.”

I was left confused, upset, scared - and still sick.

The Inevitable Surgery

I was returned to my room, disappointed but still having a shred of hope that this new culture bought me some time and I could wait for the antibiotics. I quickly learned I was out of time. My nurse informed me that the surgery was still scheduled for 5. Not caring that I was being a very needy patient, I wanted to see my doctor.

When I tell you she is amazing. She was in my hospital room within the hour. I needed her to give it to me straight and the words I heard next led me terrified to even wait a few hours until surgery.

You are septic. Your white blood count is worse than someone whose appendix burst. Surgery is your Only treatment. As I sat there defeated she continued to, again, describe the surgery and the long recovery, and I finally knew there was only one way forward.

No, I don't care about the scar. Cut wherever you need to. She explained I could get it lasered and cosmetically fixed later. I explained I did not care, just fix it. She explained that she couldn’t stitch it and that it would remain open for weeks. I don’t care, let’s get started. She explained that our surgery got pushed back to 9:00 PM. And as she explained, and as she read an incoming message, she explained that our 9 PM surgery just got bumped again due to a colon rectal emergency.

I cringed, I already knew we couldn't wait until morning, but now I had a new fear. My doctor had been up since early morning, likely 5 or 6 am and now she was going to operate on me - who knows when - possibly after midnight. My thoughts were all over the place and my irrational fears threatened to take over. Unable to resist, I urged her to go home and take a nap. My anxiety rose the longer she sat and talked with me, knowing she was cutting into the very few hours of rest she may get. She assured me she was going to do just that. She said she lived close and her husband would have dinner ready and then she would rest.

Who can relate to this anxiety? Even those who are not as overly conscious of what can go wrong in most situations, this was scary. My fears ranged from - will it work, will she be rested, who will take care of the kids, how long will I be in recovery, is this the right decision, HOW DID I GET HERE?

Easing My Mounting Fears

It was not lost on me that this wonderful human was changing her schedule and her evening plans, to ensure my health. I prayed to God to thank him for putting this incredible doctor on my case. She was blunt, and she scared the daylights out of me with her to the point descriptions of my status and the impending surgery, but I knew I was in good hands.

So how did I calm myself? I prayed and I wrote.

My husband rushed home to the kids to make sure they understood what was going on. I grabbed my ipad and IV cart and shuffled down to the sunroom. Afterall, I had lots of time… RIGHT?

Generally, writing energizes me, it makes me happy and gives me a sense of accomplishment. I love to journal so I can capture memories. But on this day I wrote to calm my mind regarding the pending threat. You see, I have a fear both when I travel and now when I am sick, that I need to write to my 4 daughters, JUST IN CASE.

My Journal entry started like this.. Just in case something should happen to me…

I wrote inspirational messages about how proud I was of them and where I saw their futures. I had been writing for about 10 minutes, when my nurse popped her head in the door.

Thinking she was just checking on me and couldn’t find me, I apologised that I didn’t tell her where I would be. The look she gave me told me she wasn’t just there to check on me. I couldn’t believe it!

They are here to take you to pre-op.

Unbelievable? It hasn’t even been an hour. It is not even the time for our original time slot. How could this be? I’m not ready. My husband just drove home to the kids.

I frantically texted my husband. Come back now —They are taking me now!

I begrudgingly head back to my room, where the attendant is ready to wheel me and my bed down to surgery. I told him this was a mistake. I wondered out loud —Was I going to be down there forever - waiting - my surgeon after all just went home to dinner.

My mind is racing. I didn't have enough time to finish my journal. My husband just went home. I say these things in my head. I say them out loud to the attendant as he stoically wheels me through the quiet halls of the hospital.

As we round the corner, I see a desk with many nurses, seemingly awaiting my arrival. They said something to him and for the first time he spoke to me by whispering near my head, ‘How far away is your husband?’ I said - 30 minutes. To which he responded, ‘He is not going to make it. They are taking you now.’

That was it. My breaking point. The stress, the pace, the people, the worry - all of it pushed me to my limit. I had been through so much - fevers, pain, blown veins - and now, this was more than I could bear. I began to tremble, and then I sobbed.

But even in that fragile moment, his small act of kindness did not go unnoticed. I’m grateful for his thoughtfulness even though he was gone before I could even look up again. I’m grateful that he warned me things were going to move quickly.

I’m grateful to the nurses who ran to my side and asked why I was crying and heard me as I said I was upset I would not see my husband before surgery. I’m grateful that she said they would wait for him.

I'm grateful to the nurse who listened to me when I confided that I wrote something for my daughters but didn’t know how to tell my husband where to find it. She suggested a softer title, taking the passage from doom (Just in case something should happen to me…) to a note of hope (Things to Live By), so it would be easier to tell my husband where to find it.

I'm grateful for the few moments with my husband where I was able to share my note and he was able to provide me with some comfort as they wheeled me back.

Most importantly, I am grateful to God for guiding the surgeon's hands and freeing me from that dangerous infection.

Around 10:00 PM, I gradually woke to the quiet beeping of the machines in the recovery room. My husband was there, his face weary but still trying to find some humor in the chaos as he recorded my post-anesthesia moments. He had me record videos to our worried kids to provide some levity to the stressful events. And though I was in a drugged haze, I knew I was finally beginning a journey to recovery.

Note: I’m not sure anyone can ever be fully prepared for such a dramatic, unexpected illness and the long recovery that follows. A few days after my surgery, the cultures finally came back, revealing a staph infection. My doctors couldn’t explain how I contracted it in my breast. During surgery, my doctor had to make a three-inch incision to remove the full infection. The area couldn’t be stitched due to the risk of re-infection. It would be eight weeks of painful recovery, with daily and later weekly wound care.

Through this experience, I learned a lot about the mental and emotional toll that comes with being sick for an extended period of time. I want to give a shoutout to anyone who’s been through a major illness, because you don’t get enough credit. Yes, the physical recovery is challenging, but the mind needs healing too. The emotional impact is often overlooked. The trauma of constant pain, fear, anxiety, and the inability to care for yourself for weeks can lead to depression, loss of motivation, increased anxiety, and loneliness. The journey is not easy but it is not impossible. I know it’s incredibly hard. The days can feel endless, and progress might feel small, but even the tiniest steps forward are still steps toward healing. You’re not alone in this, and it’s okay to take it day by day.

Personally, I don’t think our healthcare system does enough to ensure the whole person is healed when they leave. I’m not sure how it could improve, but maybe a 'package deal' for surgeries, where every procedure comes with a few check-in counseling sessions, could help.

Final Note: As the owner of an ABA Agency and Center for Autism, I am incredibly grateful to my team for keeping our agency running smoothly and fully functioning in my absence. My ability to work, concentrate, or even absorb information took much longer to return than I ever could have anticipated. For weeks, they continued to provide services to children with autism, all without me at the helm! They are truly a remarkable team, and the families we serve are fortunate to have them.

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Over the last few months, my TikTok feed has been cluttered with decluttering posts, pun intended. The repetitive messages are clear: purge and embrace a minimalist lifestyle. One trending video, even goes so far as advising you to ask, "Would you keep it if it had poop on it?" as you sift through all of your things. As I dive into this journey, I’ve started to wonder: Does this polished minimalist look bring shame to those who don’t follow the trend? Still, we’ve taken this advice to heart, and it’s become our inside joke as we tackle each room.

We are on a roll. We’ve donated several bags of shoes and clothes, labeled all of our sheets by size, and repurposed old ones into drop cloths. With this decluttering mission, we’ve also started some DIY projects where those drop cloths will come in handy. We re-purposed a shoe closet on the first floor to store all of our christmas decorations - and I am so excited! No more trekking up to the attic to decorate for the holidays! We’re creating a designated spot for every item we’re keeping, and I can already see how that will help us stay organized.

I get the appeal of this decluttering trend and the new decluttered spaces are extremely satisfying and stress reducing.

But I have my limits! I will NOT be one of those minimalists who throws away all of My Memories. I don’t care what those decluttering gurus say!

As I go through the house, there are certain items, I am NOT sorry I have kept. These may seem like hoarding of trivial keepsakes but to me they hold memories. I admit, I have some of these keepsakes stuffed in random drawers and bins around the house that add to the clutter but to be fair, the majority of memory boxes are somewhat well organized in bins and boxes behind the clothes racks in my closet. With this decluttering mission, we have set our sights on repurposing my attic closet.

My husband and I brainstormed several options for the room as we sat amidst clothes, old dance costumes, and keepsakes. He brought up my boxes several times while we discussed the layout of this sloped attic space. We’re planning to create a mini laundry area, adding laundry capabilities to the second floor. This can be easily done if we incorporate different shelving and storage solutions to maximize the space. These plans have led me to this moment where I have pulled out all of my memory boxes to the center of the room.

I can appreciate that my husband is hopeful that I will be throwing away some things and downsizing. However, I am not sure we have the same goal, especially now that I have gotten started. These bins include my childhood all the way through to every baby book and art project I saved from each of our four children.

As I open the first few boxes, my decluttering agenda is quickly derailed by my desire to deep dive into each memory. First up, an old t-shirt from private school with everyone’s names listed on the back. Proof of my existence and memories of friendships and trial and tribulations from elementary school that had been buried. Taking a snapshot of that shirt and sending it to an old friend keeps the connection alive, as we chat back and forth over the memory.

As I dig deeper, I find a few writing samples from elementary school through high school that show my love for writing from a young age. I remember writing short stories, but it wasn’t until I started going through these boxes that I realized just how many there were. Story after story, I pore over the different samples, proud to see the inked-up pages where my teacher critiqued my formative attempts at literature. To add to my literary journey, I have several shoeboxes full of handwritten notes exchanged in the hallways with my besties during middle and high school. The folded squares of fading paper provide a tangible moment frozen in time, one that kids today will never experience, thanks to the quickly disappearing messages on Snapchat. Before I can sink deeper into my own wonderland, I force myself to pause and open more bins.

Next comes another bin… another trip down memory lane to my college and sorority years. I saved every plaque my sorority sisters gave me, along with pictures and letters, painting a story of love, laughter, and shenanigans from the good ol' days.

I cherish these memories, even if I only ever pull them out once every 25 years. Friends make digs at me and joke that I hang on to so many of these old things, but as the trend asks, "If it had poop on it, would you keep it?", I’m only finding one or two things I wouldn’t keep. I don’t know about you, but my memory is very shallow, and without these mementos, I wouldn’t be able to recollect these moments.

Maybe today’s generation has less need to hang on to tangible memorabilia. They have the luxury of hoarding videos to preserve their memories. But our generation, if we’re lucky, has home movies: grainy snippets of the past, stuck on VHS tapes and, if we’re really fortunate, transferred to DVDs. I am still embracing the benefits of the decluttering trend, but for me, these boxes are more than just clutter - they’re a part of who I am, and as long as they bring me joy, that’s all that matters.

Thanksgiving

I took over hosting Thanksgiving from my mother almost 20 years ago (don’t worry she is fine). I love the traditions associated with this holiday. We make the turkey, and everyone else brings the sides and desserts. This allows me to focus on trying fun new recipes without added stress.

This year, I chose to make sourdough brie and cranberry bread. Brie is my absolute favorite cheese — it sneaks its way into most of my meals (don’t judge me). Oftentimes, my chosen dishes taste delicious but lack the curb appeal.

So, I loosely followed a recipe and here’s how it went:

Fresh Cranberry Sauce
I started by making fresh cranberry sauce. I simmered about ¾ cup of water with ¾ cup of freshly squeezed orange juice, ¾ cup of sugar, and stirred it all together in a pot. Then, I added the fresh cranberries, brought the mixture to a boil, and lowered it to a simmer until the cranberries burst and the sauce gelled- about 20 minutes. Delicious and so easy.

Sourdough Prep
Next up, sourdough. I grabbed a sharp serrated knife and made criss-cross cuts in the loaf, careful not to cut all the way through. The goal here is to make sure the squares pull apart but don’t completely fall apart (you want it to hold up to all the cheesy goodness you’re about to shove inside).

Next, I melted a stick of unsalted butter, threw in about a tablespoon of minced garlic, rosemary, thyme, and a pinch of salt and pepper. Again, I don’t measure I just eyeball it. Once mixed, using a glass measuring cup, I drizzled the buttery goodness through all the squares.

Stuffing the Bread with Brie and Cranberry

Here’s where the magic happens. I stuffed the cuts with cranberries, then chopped up the brie into little cubes and packed it into the bread. I made sure every crevice got filled — after all, you want every bite to have a perfect balance of cheese and fruit.

Baking the Goodness
I wrapped the loaf in aluminum foil and baked it for 20-25 minutes to ensure the cheese was melting. When it was done, I sprinkled a bit of rosemary on top and served it warm.

Now, here’s the thing — everyone was so eager to devour this cheesy, buttery bread that I totally forgot to snap a photo after it came out of the oven. But trust me, it was beautiful. It looked like a work of art (if I do say so myself).

The Verdict
What did I learn? Well, for starters, I might dial back the garlic butter drizzle next time. The buttery garlic flavor was perfect, but the quantity made it a little soggy at the bottom. Otherwise, it was a hit. Everyone gobbled it up in record time, and I had zero leftovers (a clear sign of success).

So, there you have it — sourdough with brie and cranberry sauce. A little indulgent, a little fancy, but ultimately, a delicious adventure in the kitchen. Stay tuned for more Dabbling with Recipes!

Part 1: The Quiet Before the Storm: A Weekend That Started Like Any Other

You know how there’s always that one family joke? The one you roll your eyes at because it always happens?

The running joke in our family is that every time my husband travels, something crazy happens. I wouldn’t necessarily call it "bad" — though it usually ends up being something I’d rather not deal with. And by "things," I mean situations that tend to involve me handling situations I’d prefer not to.

These "things" are strangely consistent, and he doesn't even travel that often. So, what are some examples of these "things"? A child projectile vomiting in the hallway, another time a child puking all over the bathroom—from ceiling to floor—both incidents well past my bedtime. And not once, but twice, both dogs getting skunked and filling the house with the most awful, eye-burning smell you can imagine. AGAIN, all of this required cleanup that might have warranted a full-on hazmat suit... and maybe a stiff drink afterward.

I won’t go into all the details (trust me, it’s better that way), but the pattern is clear: Ryan leaves, something weird goes down, and I handle it. End of story. Or is it?

Here’s the tale of what went down while he was away on his latest trip. Forget the usual JMom stories of epic family vacations and unforgettable adventures. This time, I’m serving up the unexpected story of a seemingly simple ER visit that somehow morphed into a five-night, all-inclusive hospital stay. Buckle up—it’s not the kind of getaway you’re thinking!

Let’s Set the Stage: 

Over a two week period, my youngest daughter had not been feeling well and had missed quite a bit of school. Rolling into the third week, I grew more and more concerned and took her to see her pediatrician several times. Her pediatrician cautioned that pneumonia was really bad and advised starting an antibiotic even though the chest x rays were clear. I monitored her all week and the pediatrician assured me the decreasing fevers were a sign she was trending in the right direction. By Sunday, she was so lethargic we took her to the ER, where they assessed her and quickly admitted her for Pneumonia. 

Ryan had planned to leave that night for an extended trip—work travel at first, followed by a few days in Colorado with one of my daughters. Our running joke—about how every time Ryan leaves, something strange happens at home—was finally coming true… except this time, he hadn’t even left the state yet. Despite everything, we agreed he should still go - we trusted she was in good hands at the hospital. I could stay with her at the hospital and my middle teenage daughter would be good on her own at home with extended family checking in on her.

Though my youngest daughter was in good hands, she was miserable. She slept constantly and barely ate. I was a worried mama bear, trying to coax her to walk to the bathroom and pace the room to help her lungs. I slept next to her bed in a thoughtfully provided pull-out chair, working while she slept. Finally, after three nights of constant monitoring, IV antibiotics, oxygen, breathing exercises, and lots of Gatorade, her lungs began to show signs of improvement. My baby was finally ready to pack up and go home. The relief was overwhelming—she was strong enough to leave, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was truly back to normal yet.

Over the next two days, we focused on helping her rest, regain her strength, and keep up with her breathing treatments. When she was finally ready to return to some normalcy, she went to school, watched the first day of her basketball tryouts (though she was not allowed to participate), and then we prepared for the Friday night football game. I was nervous about letting her go, but she had been isolated from her friends for so long, and I knew how much she needed to re-connect.

Friday Night Lights

Friday morning, as she headed out the door for school, my daughter asked if we could go to the football game. I told her we’d make a last-minute decision based on how she felt after the school day.

With her on the mend, I was starting to feel a sense that we would be getting back to our normal routines.

Once both of my daughters were at school, I started my day. I felt a bit congested and more tired than usual, but I brushed it off as allergies and stress. I ran some errands, volunteered at basketball tryouts, and then headed to the game with my daughter, who was eager to spend time with her friends. But as we drove over, sharp pains started in my breast. Though unusual, I dismissed them as just random aches and pains that come with aging.

At the game, my mind was preoccupied with my daughter’s health, making sure she stayed warm and didn’t overexert herself. The pains persisted, but I ignored them. Then, a little after halftime, I began to wonder if something was really wrong. The pain felt eerily familiar, almost like mastitis, which I had experienced several times while breastfeeding many years ago.

Naturally, I turned to Google. Can you get mastitis from pneumonia? After all, I had just spent 3 days in the hospital. Google’s answer? THERE was a one in a million chance. Friends - We know we should NEVER Google health issues.

My friend, a nurse sitting nearby, was just as perplexed. Even though I provided her with Google “evidence,” she wasn’t convinced.

As the pressure and pain continued, I found my daughter amongst the cheering fans and we headed home. 

On the way home, I called my husband in Colorado to describe the pain. We were both curious about what could be causing it. I have a pretty high pain tolerance and rarely take so much as a Tylenol, so when I described the pain, he immediately became concerned.

No Rest for Me

My daughter went to bed, and I went into panic mode. Was it warm to the touch? I couldn’t tell. Was it pink? It looked pink.

I called my sister, who conveniently lives on my block. She offered to go with me to the ER if I decided to go. Meanwhile, my college-aged daughter was nannying nearby, so I asked her to stop by on her way home around midnight. I figured I’d try to sleep, and if the pain was still there when she arrived, I’d decide what to do.

By the time she got home around 12:30 a.m., I hadn’t slept a wink. I was nervous, in pain, and starting to wonder if I was overreacting. I tend to lean toward worst-case scenarios, and my mind kept spiraling. Was I just being a hypochondriac? After going back and forth with my daughter and husband on the phone, I decided to drive myself to the local emergency room. My daughter stayed home with my other daughter.

First Stop: The Emergency Room of Endless Waiting

I feel lucky to have an emergency room less than four miles from my house. It’s not attached to a hospital, but it’s good for things like X-rays, breathing treatments, and low-level incidents. Normally, the wait is quick, and it's a great option for urgent medical needs, especially over the weekend. At that point, I figured my situation was low-level—nothing too serious—so I headed there, thinking it would be a quick fix.

But as I walked through those sliding doors, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this might turn into more than I expected.

When I arrived, the waiting room was eerily quiet, with only one other person sitting in the far corner. I approached the desk and awkwardly described my symptoms, feeling like I must sound completely crazy. My mind kept telling me: This probably isn’t a big deal. I shouldn’t have come. Why am I doing this?

I questioned myself a thousand times between my arrival and when they finally took my vitals.

The ER process was quick and efficient, which I appreciated, but also made me wonder if they were taking me seriously. I was asked to rate my pain on a scale from 1 to 10. I hesitated for a moment but then blurted out a firm 9.5. My breast felt like it was about to explode, as if a scene from Gremlins was about to unfold—hot, pink, with a two-inch pink streak creeping up my chest. It was terrifying.

After taking my vitals, they sent me for a chest X-ray and then an ultrasound. My lungs sounded clear, but I could hear myself wheezing, so they immediately gave me a breathing treatment. The provider came in, quickly explained the treatment, and before I could think, I had a mask on my face.

If I’d been given a moment to ask questions, I might have declined. The medications in the treatment had caused a bad reaction for me in the past. But by the time I thought to ask, it was too late. I didn’t know what was in it until after the treatment had already started.

Looking back, I can pinpoint this moment as where things began to take a turn.

Back to the Endless Waiting
I arrived at 12:45 a.m. By 2:00 a.m., all tests were complete.

By 2:30 a.m., the doctor came in and told me they were still waiting on test results.

So, I waited. I tried to distract myself with movies on my phone, but I could hardly focus. I closed my eyes, then opened them. I waited. The room was too quiet. I drifted in and out of sleep.

3:45. No nurse checked on me. No call button. I walked out in the deserted hall and went to the bathroom. I waited, I dozed. I was scared, I was in pain and alone. I had no treatment. 

4:45. No nurse. No one in the halls. It was eerily quiet. No staff. No Emergencies. I was thirsty. Still no updates. Did I mention the pain? The impending Gremlins scene.

5:45 I was still in pain, still thirsty—remember that 9.5 pain rating they eagerly documented? Five hours later, still at a 9.5.

I think I’m a fairly patient person. After all, I just waited several hours at a 9.5 pain level, with no water, no call button, and no pain meds. I had hit my limit and couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and peered around the very quiet ER. There was not even a hint of an emergency. No hustle and bustle!

“Hello? Hello? Hellooo?” I called out, at first quietly, then louder, more desperate. Frustration building I exclaim, “Do I EVEN HAVE A NURSE?”

A few minutes later, an unlucky nursing assistant came in and asked, “Were you calling for someone?”

Cue the pent-up panic, the fear, the tears. I could barely hold it together. "Yes, I was calling! Do you want to know what that survey is going to say when I leave? It’s going to say: Why did you ask me about my pain level if you weren’t going to give me so much as a Tylenol, a call button, or a glass of water? Why didn’t your prep questions ask things like: ‘Are you feeling anxious? Is there anyone we can call?’ Or how about this—just extra checks on a patient who’s alone, maybe? Maybe because she’s been waiting for hours with no updates, no support—and did I mention, no pain meds?!"

The nursing assistant looked like a deer in headlights, and after a stunned moment, he quickly produced a call button, a glass of water, and—miraculously—my doctor.

When the doctor entered, I was still frustrated. I repeated what had been bothering me all night. The first thing she said after glancing at my bed was, “You have a call button.”

Silently scream with me, please!! Yes, I do—I just got it two minutes ago. Clearly, empathy was not her strong suit. I so wanted to like her. After all, she ordered all those tests so quickly five hours ago.

Things Started to Move
Finally, the doctor began reviewing my test results. What a relief to hear that my lungs showed no signs of pneumonia. But then, my mind raced again. What would the ultrasound show? Could this be mastitis or some kind of infection in my breast? I had no idea what to expect.

The results were in. An enlarged duct with debris. I stared at her, trying to make sense of it. What does that mean? All I wanted was the meds, something to ease the pain, and to get out of there. The doctor casually explained I’d be getting antibiotics, and that I’d follow up with my regular physician.

But… just as I thought it was over, she hesitated. She wasn’t done yet. She wanted to be absolutely sure that this was the right course of action. Without missing a beat, she called the breast surgeon at the hospital for a second opinion.

The surgeon ordered bloodwork.

Oh, wow. I barely had time to process the words before they drew my blood. It was probably the quickest turnaround time I’d ever seen. The results were back: my white blood cell count was elevated.

And just like that, I was given antibiotics—and guess what else? A Tylenol. My reward for surviving the night.

Now it is Time for Me to Move

The surgeon wants me admitted—I’ve been scheduled for an all-inclusive stay at the hospital. Remember when I first came to this local ER, thinking my issue was no big deal? Well, now it’s time to choose my mode of transportation to my new destination. And I’ll be honest: I’m not great with choices. Please, don’t give me options—don’t let me overthink this, especially when I am already stressed.

After thoroughly weighing my options—an expensive ambulance ride (which I wasn’t sure would be covered, since the insurance company was closed for the weekend), driving myself (overestimating my ability to handle the pain), or asking someone to drive me (not wanting to put anyone out)—I reluctantly chose the ambulance ride.

As the ambulance doors clanged shut, a wave of panic washed over me. My mind raced, bombarded with all the information I’d just been given. My plan seemed similar to my daughter’s—a course of IV antibiotics—and then I’d be home. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of a much longer, more complicated journey than I ever expected. But in that chaotic moment, one thought loomed larger than all the others: What other 'things' were waiting to happen while Ryan was out of town?

Come back for Part Two to find out.

When it comes to traveling, I tend to get antsy and, at the last minute, decide we should go on a family vacation. Several instances come to mind—many spring breaks over the years. Mid-February rolls around, and I start to feel the travel bug; staycations just aren’t going to cut it! I’ve discovered that I can find the best deals on flights and vacation destinations by embracing this spontaneous approach. Now, I don’t recommend this if your heart is set on a specific destination, but if you can be flexible with dates and airports, you may be in luck.

Are you shaking your head right now, thinking there’s no way to get your large family out of town on a deal? I know for many people, especially big families, being flexible with dates sounds impossible because of school schedules, extracurriculars, work, and limited PTO. I get it—we are a family of six, and our schedules can be the most challenging part of planning. This may be why I wait so long to start. And with six of us traveling, flights can consume all of our travel budget if I’m not careful.

However, if you can be flexible by just a day or two, I find the best flights. First, I scope out the area and the possible airports. I use Google My Maps to plot my adventure. I love this platform; it lets me find each place relative to airports and sequence different stops and areas of interest. This helps me determine if I can fly into one airport and out of another. Check out my blog post—Planning A Vacation using Google My Maps! 

I almost always book one-way flights, especially when traveling with the entire family. Obviously, the more time I have to play around with one-way flights, the better. But I’ve managed to do this on a time crunch. I alway use google flights and it has worked so far. The features for selecting the destinations, flexible dates, and the “explore” option allow me to flush out the deals.

Using Google Flights, you can:

• Add multiple airports

• Add flexible dates

• Narrow by airline

• Choose nonstop vs. layover

My favorite options—multiple airports and flexible dates—allow me to book one-way tickets into different airports, helping me find the best deals. I don’t often find deals when I use the multiple stops option; this tends to keep you within the same airline. I’ve discovered the best flights by using this method: flying into Fort Lauderdale and out of Orlando, heading west to LA but stopping in Colorado for a few days and then flying out of San Diego (probably my best deal for our party of six), and flying into Sicily and out of Venice, Italy—just to name a few!

Yes, I’m on a Google kick! I don’t receive any endorsements from them—trust me, I wish they were paying me to talk about their products! While there are many ways to find flights using other search engines, I prefer to purchase directly from the airline through Google Flights. I find it much easier if I need to change or cancel.

So far, these steps have served me well, and I hope they help you too! Give them a try and share your amazing travel deals with me—I’d love to hear about your adventures!

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If Vegas has been on your mind, you probably have a list of ideas and destinations you're eager to experience. For me, visiting Vegas wasn't on my radar since I had already been there in my 20s when my best friend lived there. One of my bucket list goals is to hit all 50 states, so I rarely return to the same state twice unless there’s a specific occasion—like tagging along on my husband’s work trip! About two weeks before he was set to leave, I got the travel bug and decided to see if I could make the trip.

Planning - Getting Started

We’re going to VEGAS!!

What comes to mind when you hear that phrase?

Gambling, of course! With barely two weeks to plan, I dove into researching all things VEGAS. Surprisingly, even though I love to play blackjack, with so many other amazing attractions, gambling ended up being the last thing on my list.

Getting There

With only two weeks of planning time, booking the same flight as my husband was not happening! This late in the game, his flights were upwards of $950. Using Google Flights and being flexible with my dates and times, I was able to get a one-way flight out on Frontier for less than $100, and a one-way flight home on Southwest. Once I was all set, my husband was able to move his return flight to match mine. He flew Southwest both ways and was able to take all our luggage for free, so I had no baggage fees on Frontier. My travel expenses ended up being $400 total.

Where to Stay

We stayed at a boutique hotel called Nomad Suites, located within Park MGM. Let me tell you, there are many reasons why I highly recommend this hotel. Here are my top five! 

First, the location is perfect. Conveniently centrally located on the strip, it was easy to get to so many places within walking distance, including an amazingly delicious Lobster Stand just steps from the front door. Oh, and luckily for me, across the street was a Target—see why later!

Second, it houses the Dolby Theater, which frequently hosts entertainers like Bruno Mars and Lady Gaga. These stars just so happened to be performing while we were there.

Third, the pools are low-key, clean, and quiet. They are not the elaborate party Vegas pools (granted, we were there during the week), but they are charming, and they were definitely easily accessible. I was able to fit in a quick dip in the pool two out of my three days.

Fourth, there are many delicious restaurants to choose from, including Eataly, which offers an assortment of stands, café-style, with different Italian cuisines.

Fifth, and probably the most important to me and my husband, is that the Park MGM casino is the ONLY smoke-free casino in Vegas. Hands down, the number one reason I will choose Park MGM every time!

Bonus reason - check out my blog post— What I Learned During My Trip to Vegas: Tips to Save You Time and Energy! In this blog, I discuss how to get around in Vegas, highlighting the free tram right in Park MGM that will take you to the Aria and Bellagio.

Authentic Local Attraction

I am a book addict! I had to check out a local bookstore I had heard about called The Writer’s Block. The Writer’s Block, is about a 15-20 minute Uber ride - away from the Strip - closer to old Las Vegas. Incidentally, it is also near the famous Gold and Silver Pawn Shop if that interests you!

From the outside, it seems modern and industrial. If you didn’t know it was a bookstore, you might think it was a news station or an advertising agency. However, once you step inside, you are transported to a unique, warm, charming montage of books, trinkets, and a faux bird sanctuary. During your visit, you can treat yourself to a coffee and sweet treat. The store is quiet, and the workers are pleasant and helpful. They gave me several book recommendations in the mystery and suspense section. I couldn’t resist leaving with two new novels!

Entertainment

This could literally be a novel in itself. Choosing a show or two in such a short amount of time was one of my hardest decision. Shows run every day, but my husband only had one free night—Wednesday—making our choice a bit more challenging. Shows at the top of our list, such as MJ, Cirque Mystère, and Ka, did not have showtimes on Wednesday. Ultimately, we made the mistake of choosing to see David Copperfield. Located at the Grand MGM, we thought this would be an ideal show. I had seen him in Ohio nearly 20 years ago and loved the performance. Perhaps my expectations for a Vegas show were too high, and I am being overly critical; however, I would not recommend spending your money or time on this one. The performance felt cheesy and dated. While some of the effects were impressive and he did magically make very large items appear, the overall show lacked the excitement and innovation I was hoping for. If you’re looking for a more modern and engaging experience, you might want to explore other options on the Strip.

Helpful Tips from this trip to Vegas

Let’s talk high altitude lessons! Several symptoms affected me, coming from Ohio, on this trip out West. First, alcohol and high altitude don’t mix well. You have to be careful, hydrate well, and keep drinking light (at least at first). On the first morning there, I woke up with some vertigo and then did a little research, learning I needed to increase my water intake if I wanted to have a drink or two. I spent the day hydrating, and the vertigo was gone.

The second lesson I learned was that I am susceptible to nosebleeds at high altitudes. While lounging by the pool in 101-degree heat, I started to feel like my nose was running. I soon realized I had my first-ever bloody nose (sorry, gross). I ended up experiencing this several more times throughout the trip. This is why the location of Target was helpful—I walked over and was able to get nasal spray and a few other essentials without spending money on an Uber!

Some other lessons I learned that made my trip enjoyable were the walking-around-town essentials that I brought with me. Comfortable shoes and a bag that kept my hands free were essential. I walked many miles, took a plethora of photos and videos, and was very comfortable. I bought this crossbody bag off Amazon, and it is now my favorite bag. I was able to carry around a battery charger, hand sanitizer, sunscreen, and a small water bottle.

Morale of the Story

I was able to plan a wonderful trip with only two weeks' notice, and it was amazing. Granted, I didn’t have to spend time researching a hotel—hubby’s work took care of that—but now you can take advantage of this info and choose the Park MGM without looking any further!

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I genuinely enjoy the process of trip planning—there’s something exciting about piecing together the details and mapping out an adventure. But, let’s face it, the nitty-gritty details can quickly become overwhelming. I often hear friends describe vacation planning as feeling like a second job, whether they’re organizing a cruise or prepping for a Disney getaway. Are you moms out there feeling exhausted just thinking about it before you even step out the door?

That’s where Google My Maps comes in handy. It’s incredibly user-friendly and helps me get organized from the start. I kick off my planning by creating a fresh map on Google My Maps, diving into the region or area we’ll be exploring, and then start plotting out ideas.

1. Start here by creating a new map. 

As I research the best local attractions, I keep my map open, adding points of interest as I go. Once I’ve gathered all the must-see spots, I arrange them in a geographically sensible order to streamline our itinerary. It turns what could be a chaotic process into a well-organized adventure.

2. Find a region and start dropping pins!

Above is an example of several sites and attractions I found while researching a trip to California. I began by typing in each location and dropping pins on the map. As I added the locations, a list was generated on the side. Once the list was complete, I arranged the order by hovering over each location’s name and dragging it to a more logical sequence. This helps me create an efficient route, optimizing our time at each site. If I’m flying to the destination, I also locate the airport or airports on the map to explore the possibility of flying into one airport and departing from another. This further maximizes my time at the destination and avoids unnecessary backtracking. For example, on the California trip referenced in the images, we flew into Los Angeles, traveled south, and flew home from San Diego.

3. Plot out the order of the attractions. 

Once I have all the destinations mapped out, I can begin planning my daily trips by getting driving directions between each location.

4. Get driving directions. 

5. Save your trip!

One of my favorite things about My Maps is that it allows me to view the route I took and save each journey as a distinct file. I can update a copy of the voyage, share it with my followers, or even share it with a friend! You can also collaborate with friends and family to plan the trip in real time by sharing the editable map with them.

Let me tell you about my journey to get an Uber. Remember, this was a solitary trip for me because my husband was working most of the time. I had set my agenda, and my ultimate plan was to take an Uber to Writer's Block, a bookstore located approximately 20 minutes outside of town, while visiting a few stops along the way.

I started with the tram that runs from Park MGM, where we were staying, through the Aria and Bellagio. This tram is free, quick, and easily accessible from all three locations. This was an early morning trip, but I tried it out several times throughout the day with the same ease!

I then had breakfast at the Bellagio and spent some time exploring the hotel. 

While walking through the Bellagio, there were signs indicating a walkway to Caesars Palace. I thought this was great—without stepping out on the Strip, I could check out another hotel and then grab my Uber. But that did not happen. I ended up walking over a bridge and past the expansive grounds of Caesars Palace. I snapped a ton of photos and videos while walking for roughly half a mile. One thing led to another, and I found myself walking farther and farther. When I saw the LINQ Promenade and The Flamingo Hotel across the street, it seemed like a perfect location to call for my Uber.

As I crossed the street and began looking around, it hit me—everything was contained. I could not get back to the curb of the street because the area was lined with fencing, making it impossible for an Uber to reach me. I walked all the way through the LINQ Promenade. Not knowing much about the Promenade, I didn’t realize how long it was or if I could get out when I reached the end. When I got to the end (remember, it was early in the day, so there weren’t many people around), I couldn’t find access to a street. I asked someone for directions, and they told me to keep going and turn left. When I got there, it was an isolated street with no one around, and I did not feel comfortable going that way alone. So, I turned around and walked through the Promenade again.

The next person I talked to suggested going through the Flamingo hotel. On this walk, I ventured through the hotel, checked out the casino and the restroom, and then found what I thought was the front entrance, only to discover I had walked in a circle. The front of The Flamingo was right in front of the same area on the Strip. After a bit more walking, I passed security, who told me to walk back down the Promenade (where I had just come from). I expressed concern that I had just been down there and it was deserted, but he assured me it wouldn’t be this time. Not thrilled about retracing my steps—I wanted to see as much of Vegas as I could—I asked if there was another option. He was helpful and directed me to the next hotel down the block, Harrah’s, and indicated that I needed to walk through the hotel and look for rideshare signs. Remember, these hotels are huge, and “right next door” can be quite a distance! This is where I learned about rideshare pickup areas.

As I walked through Harrah’s, I finally noticed the rideshare directional signs. I’ve seen these in airports—I know they’re a thing. I just didn’t know I needed to be looking for them to get around on the Strip! The signs led me past the front desk, away from the entrance, and to the backside of the hotel. As I exited, there was a roundabout with taxis lining the street. And way off in the distance, on a street corner, was a sign that read “UBER.” According to my Uber driver, there is a rule in Vegas that Ubers cannot be where the taxis are, or they will be fined. They can’t pick you up on the Strip either; you have to go to specific rideshare areas.

Moral of the Story

Plan ahead. Expect your journey to take longer than expected. Map out your travels based on hotel rideshare locations. They will be easy to find now that you know about them!

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Getting There

The Kelley's Island Ferry departs from Marblehead, Ohio, every thirty minutes. You can either walk on or bring your vehicle. We typically bring our car over  ($20 each way for a vehicle) so we can haul all of our stuff to the island, so as soon as all the cars are settled in we like to get out and walk to the sides or head up the stairs to peer out over the water. 

Getting Around

The island’s charm is enhanced by the slow pace, with few cars and plenty of golf carts. With our large family, we splurge on a 6-seater golf cart to stay together. Next to boating, cruising around the lake’s coast in a golf cart is my favorite activity.

I LOVE IT!

When to Travel

Since Kelley’s is a seasonal attraction, we prefer visiting during the week of July 4th to enjoy the fireworks at West Bay. Really the best time to head to the islands is May through September!

What to Bring

Whether you're visiting for a day or two, the island has all you need! There are quaint shops, restaurants, and a small grocer. Check out the Kelley’s Island Packing List for tips on what to bring based on the length of your stay (post coming soon).

Where to Stay

As a large social family, we often include family and friends in our travels. Kelley’s Island is close enough that older kids can come and go if they can't stay the entire time. We need spacious and flexible accommodations. While we love the cottages with multiple bedrooms and expansive yards, our recent stay at Kelley’s Venture Resort surprised us! The rooms are spacious, and the upstairs loft area is rather large. The main bedroom is where you enter (oddly, there isn't a door for privacy, but we made it work). The steps leading to the loft are located in the same vicinity as the bed. This is the suite's main entrance. After passing the bathroom in the master bedroom, you'll enter a tiny sitting area with a door leading to the balcony at the back of the house.

This was the first time we had access to a pool on Kelleys Island and it was definitely an added bonus-there are not many on Kelley’s. It was a nice break in the day for the kids if they were tired of the beach. It allowed for some flexibility for the older kids to stay at the pool on their own or for the families to split up. The pool is clean and well kept but it is a bit older. It is a lake resort so there are more bugs around then you may be used to!

Local Authentic Experience

Speaking of bugs, I would be remiss if I didn’t tell you about the Mayflies. I know talking about bugs is not glamorous and it is weird that while I am trying to convince you to love Kelley’s as much as me, I mention Mayflies. I truly believe that if you are prepared for them, they will not bother you. They come and go and sometimes you see none and other times, they are like another vacationer snuggling up next to you. They don’t bite and they are part of the Island's charm. 

Kelley’s Island offers one of the best beaches for families among the Lake Erie Islands. We enjoy leisurely mornings with coffee while taking in the lake view, then head to the beach with a packed lunch. Located in Kelley’s Island State Park, the beach is perfect for relaxing, swimming, and enjoying shallow waters for volleyball, kayaking, and even sunbathing in the lake. We unwind on the sandy shore and enjoy swimming for the entire day. Nestled in a cove, the beach shields swimmers from big waves. You can see the bottom and the water is clear. Thus, the sandy shore is fun for all ages, with shallow waters perfect for volleyball, kayaking, rafting, and even sunbathing in a lounge chair right in the water. We purchased inflatable kayaks that fold into a backpack and bring them with us! They are fun for everyone. 

The island’s laid-back atmosphere is perfect for us. My family is content to spend the day at the beach or pool, enjoy a meal at a waterfront restaurant, and play wiffle ball until sunset. Many restaurants offer picnic style dining with good ole fashioned yard games! 

There are plenty of restaurants and activities on the island to keep you entertained. The Kelley’s Island Wine Company, with its long history, offers charming cuisine. It is perfect for people of all ages. There's The winery, like many of the island's eateries, provides an unforgettable experience that goes beyond your meal.  Long family-style tables and picnic tables provide plenty of shade and seating. They have a great baked brie, but my favorite thing on the menu is probably the pizza. The wines made on Kelleys Island contribute to the island's allure. The fact that Catina is on the same property adds to its adaptability. Because you may choose from any menu, it's a terrific place for large families to eat.

Situated on the island's west side, West Bay also offers an entertaining dining experience. Although we've been there numerous times, to be honest, we've never been inside the restaurant. We always go directly to the lawn, where the teens find others to play volleyball or we play cornhole. Large picnic tables and areas with shade are also available. It's a terrific place for families of all ages because of their large bar. Large groups can spread out and still remain together, which makes it perfect.

We love to watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July from West Bay. The display is amazing, and it’s best to get there early to secure a good spot. You can sit along the water or right in front of West Bay's fence. Even when it sprinkled a little, the show went on and everyone enjoyed it despite the rain. The casual island life means no one is in a hurry, and a little rain doesn’t spoil the fun. 

TIP- * Get there early and hangout! It gets crowded and you need to find a place to park your golf cart! If you get there late, no worries you will still find a spot! It's an island pace! 

It's fun to get together with friends in the downtown area for dining, shopping, and music. If you enjoy Bloody Marys, The Sandbar is a terrific spot to start your morning. It has a complete bar and a traditional BBQ with hamburgers and hotdogs. You can simply walk to all of your souvenirs; there are four or five little shops, ice cream parlor, coffee shop, and putt-putt. The downtown area, which has all the amenities of a quaint little town, is walkable to most restaurants on this side of town.

If you like sitting by the water and enjoying shrimp and crab legs, check out the Casino just steps away. 

View of the sunset at West Bay

I could go on and on about the islands. Check out my blog post on Put-in-Bay Island for more adventures! {COMING SOON}

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Who Are We and Why Should You Follow Us on Our Family Vacations?

Welcome to J-Mom’s Family Vacation! I’m Jen, the travel enthusiast behind this blog. My husband and I have been married for over 20 years, and we are well on our way to achieving our bucket list goal of visiting all 50 states! We are a dynamic family of six who enjoy spending time together at home and on the road!

Why Blog?

I have spent over 25 years working with children with autism and behavioral needs as a Behavior Analyst, using the science of Applied Behavior Analysis. My career has been deeply fulfilling, as I have built a successful practice and witnessed the significant milestones achieved by my clients and staff. Reflecting on my career, I began to explore other dreams I had, and it led me to rediscover my love for writing. When I was young, I had hopes of writing a book. After some soul-searching and prayer, I decided to blend my love for travel, family, and writing.

Why J-Mom?

About 10 years ago, my twins helped me pick my Instagram username. After much discussion and many funny versions, we landed on "J-Mom." Over the years, this name gained momentum. With a very busy household, with kids, friends, and cousins constantly coming in and out, we have a family rule that friends need to find my husband and me to say hello and goodbye. The kids embraced the rule, and as they ran out the door, they would call, "Bye, J-Mom!" I love a busy house filled with family and friends, and I found the new nickname endearing. So, when I was deciding how I wanted to be known in the blogging community, I wanted everyone to understand my love for spending time with family and friends.

Our Family Travel Style

With four busy daughters, finding time to be together is a top priority. Though there is nothing better than a trip with our core six, we often bring a friend or two along or plan a trip with several friends. We’re a relaxed family and enjoy unwinding at the beach, lounging poolside, and experiencing local cuisine. We also enjoy being on the water—boating, kayaking, and snorkeling are some of our favorite activities. If you’re looking for big adventures like mountain climbing or cliff diving, we might not be your speed; however, if you have a large family, we’d love for you to stick around!

The More, The Merrier!

We treasure our family and friends and enjoy spending time together! As a large Italian family, our kitchen table and seating area are the focal points of our traditions. A family gathering for holidays involves no less than 30 rowdy people gathered around long tables and smooshed together on big couches to play competitive games. From grandparents to toddlers, we all love a game of Family Feud, Murder Mystery, or Kahoot! It is not rare to see us laughing until we cry (or maybe pee our pants)—family games never disappoint!

At this point in our lives, our babies have grown into teenagers, so we have a large 13-22 age group that brings the energy and the crazy! We are proud that our kids cherish family time and hang out with each other as friends. That means they also enjoy vacationing together. Finding amazing lodging is our biggest priority when it comes to choosing where we stay on each trip. We prioritize locations with large common areas for us to gather, eat, drink, and play games.

Join Us!

We often find ourselves saying, “We love this place and have to come back!” but we rarely get the chance because there's so much of the world to explore. While we do return to our traditional family favorites, we're always excited to dive into new adventures. I would be thrilled for you to follow along and see where the road takes us. Along the way, I’ll share my tips for finding great flights, travel accommodations (let's talk one way flights, RVs, large vans, and trains), and finding just the right lodging to put you right in the heart of the action. Who doesn’t enjoy waking up steps from a beach, pool, or coffee shop?

So, buckle up and join us on this exciting journey as we explore the world, one family-friendly accommodation at a time.