San Francisco- Day 4

530am! No headache! We’re killing today. Until the 630am meltdowns, but those are customary. Honestly, getting them ready in the morning is much more stressful for me than doing airplanes. Why getting teeth brushed, peeing, and eating causes seventy thousand tantrums is beyond me. But it gives me great motivation to get the fuck out of this hotel room.

I’m stupid excited to see my uncle who’s flying up from LA to spend the day with us. He’s my mom’s brother and one of my very favorite family members. We meet him by the Exploratorium and Miles immediately ditches us for the cooler adult. They’re very sweet together and for a moment I consider running in the opposite direction and letting Alan adopt him for the day.

I’m not sure why I find this place so much more engaging than the kids, but they’re pretty bored after 60 minutes and the highlight of the Exploratorium is pushing around a wooden stool. Totally worth the money.

It’s a really rainy day so we opt to stay indoors and get lunch at the Ferry Building Marketplace. Ah…if only I were a more chill person. The place is full of some of the neatest food vendors and restaurants. But I’m completely overwhelmed with trying to get something nutritious in the kids and the crowds are making me batty. Instead of meandering through and enjoying myself, I frantically bolt through the place in an effort to find a restaurant that Google claims is there but isn’t. We settle for a great Mexican place where the adult portions are made for lilliputians and the kid’s meals are so large you could feed two adults. I’m still shaking my head, especially since my toddler was VERY against me sharing his burrito.

It’s really pouring out so instead of interesting parks we decided to go to the Aquarium of the Bay. I was warned off it, but it’s an aquarium by the bay and it’s raining, so how bad can it really be? Wow. It’s bad. There are like three jellyfish displays, a shark/fish tunnel and…10 minutes later, that’s it? We go upstairs where there’s a tide pool “petting” area that’s too deep for adults to do without getting soaked and two otters that are really over being gawked at. The kids have the most fun running back and forth in a virtually empty room. This keeps them occupied for at least an hour. If anyone’s keeping score the wooden stool and empty room are the big winners for today.

We head back towards the hotel to grab dinner at a restaurant that’s in an old bank. Sounds super cool with a really eclectic menu. Turns out it’s a really authentic Irish bar. Cool. We walk in and the conversation in the place immediately dies. People are very put off by babies in bars. This is completely the norm in Wisconsin so it doesn’t even occur to me until they’ve seated us in a remote section, as far from the bar as possible. Oh, well. The kids now have an empty room and french fries. We’ve won dinner.

It’s now time for bed, and to say goodbye to my favorite uncle. Today was very bittersweet and special for me. I am very grateful to get a day where my kids could demand songs and entertainment from the guy who gave me some of my best memories as a kid.

San Francisco- Day 3

We manage to sleep in until 430am. I’m happy about the additional hour until it becomes apparent that I have woken up with the worst headache I’ve had in 15 plus years. It’s bad. Ice picks in my temples and all the throbbing. I am sorely tempted to send the boys away so I can nurse my head in peace but today is the one day we’re set with a car so we can see the Redwoods and we cannot cancel. Or I suppose we could, but I won’t miss that.

I am a baby. I hate being sick. I would call into work with the sniffles. The fact that you still have to parent while feeling like you may have the beginning stages of a brain aneurism (Yes, these are my thoughts. I am a baby and a hypochondriac.) is the worst part about having kids.

I pull my shit together-ish and after discovering that the bug now refuses to eat eggs, pancakes, yogurt, and toast we carb load him with a bagel and we’re off.

We go to the Bay Area Discovery Museum and it’s the best children’s museum we’ve been to. There’s zero tantrums, lots to do, and plenty of grackles and pigeons to keep our animal obsessed youngest occupied. I keep guzzling coffee in hopes my head will stop trying to drive proverbial needless through itself everytime I move.

On the way to the Muir Woods Derek convinces me to try this newfangled thing called Tylenol for my head.(I’m a hypochondriac who also believes I’m immune to medication.) Unexpectedly, it manages to make the headache manageable.

We set off for a majestic hike through the Redwoods with the kids strapped to us. The stream is sparkling. The trees are grand and imposing. The light is peaking through the foliage like a Disney movie set. The birds are chirping. But this is what I’m hearing:

I: Mommy, what number is this?

Me: It’s a path, it has no number.

I: What number is it now?

Me: We’re still just on a path, there’s no number.

I: What number is this?

Me: There’s no number.

I: Mommy, what number are we on?

Me: Four.

I: Are these the Redwoods?

Me: Yup.

I: Are these the Redwoods?

Me: Yes, they’re all Redwoods.

I: Are these Redwoods?

Me: Yes.

I: What number is this?

This was on repeat for, no fucking joke, the ENTIRE 2hr hike. Normally I love answering his questions but holy shit, dude… I was not into this rinse and repeat version of 20 (exact same) questions.

We ended the hike with the requisite gift shop $20 sandwich no one would eat. Mouse desperately tried feed it to a wooden bear but alas, the bear also refused the sandwich. He was devastated the bear wouldn’t eat, but convinced he made a new friend. All in all, not the worst day.

San Francisco – Day 2

The time change screwed us. “Go west young man,” my ass. If we travel to the east coast, they’re cool. West coast, up at 330am. It’s a delightful time to start your day. Nothing to do, nowhere to go, so we play inside suitcases, unplug every lamp, and try to kill ourselves by jumping off the bed.

At the ass crack of dawn we venture out to breakfast and I become immediately terrified. This is not my first time in San Francisco but I’d somehow forgotten exactly how steep the hills are. I feel like I’m about to to do an Olympic Super G with a stroller. We have to lean them almost all the way back to keep our balance going down and going up feels safer but my legs are shaking a bit, so maybe not that safe.

We find a sweet little French cafe that nearly can’t fit us but I’m determined to get a fruit tart so I can’t care about things like physics. The bug’s eggs taste funny (they don’t) and mouse will only eat out of Derek’s hand so we’re off to a great start. There’s another family with much older kids and I sense them inwardly laughing at our efforts to eat and keep the kids from destroying this place. As they’re leaving they ask us if we’re from Madison. Apparently they were on the plane with me yesterday and it turns out they’re our neighbors. Is there a less trite way to say, “small world?”

We make our way to the piers so we’re can gawk at the boats, sea lions, and other tourists. Derek and I keep arguing about letting the kids loose. I’m of the opinion that children should be able to explore and run, Derek’s of the opinion that they shouldn’t be playing with dead clams or eating soiled napkins. He’s so uptight.

We decide we’re over the chaos and the piers are getting crowded so we stop for caffeine and snacks before heading out. We immediately cause a scene because our 16m old shoves food into his gob with such gusto that he doesn’t bother chewing or swallowing and sourdough defeated him. As Derek is pounding his back to dislodge the baseball size hunk of bread I’m trying to reassure the bystanders that this is not uncommon. Mouse’s relationship with food is intense. #same

We walked to the Presidio and it was a glorious day to walk along the water. After mouse fell asleep bug kept asking to go back to the hotel. We took that as normal 3yr old complaining until I realized the kid needed to poop. He’s quite particular and none of the bathrooms thus far met his lofty criteria. It took a lot of cajoling and a promise of ice cream but Derek eventually convinced him to take a three-day-in-the-making poop at Starbucks. Take that public bathroom!

We took a much harried walk to a park I’d read about with a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge. I decided to forgo my paper map for an app. San Francisco’s not a terribly well marked city and apparently without being able to move the map around and pretend I just walked into it ala fantasy kids shows I’m kind of a disaster. Damn technology. (I just figured out how to lock google maps in place.) We did get to the Yoda fountain and all the boys were thrilled. The park was beautiful and just what the kids needed. Mouse was ecstatic about going down the slides even though he ended up sideways and upside down every time and bug, well he just likes sand.

After one of the biggest and most life-giving burritos I’ve ever had we discover that California is one of the few states that doesn’t exempt taxis from carseat laws. We will either have a 90 min walk back to the hotel or we’re braving public transit. The high likelihood of the kids falling asleep in strollers makes the decision for us and we’re off to find a bus. After 26 stops and 26, “Is this our hotel?”s we basically fall off the bus in a flurry of strollers, bags, and babies.

We’re done. We’re refusing to parent any longer. We put on the Octonauts and get some peace before bedtime.

San Francisco- Day 1

You know when you desperately need to sleep and your body’s like, “The fuck you do. Let’s just stress about all the sleep you’re not getting,” and then you wake up at 130am instead of the much more reasonable 230am and you get the kids out the door on time despite the three year old yelling at you about the tile bathroom floor being too spikey? Me neither.

Side note: Traveling during spring break should be illegal.

Holy crowded airport, batman! It was 430 in the fucking morning and the place was PACKED. I had been counting on being the only morons who were traveling this early. I kept meeting the eyes of other parents who also thought they’d gamed the system and we were all sheepish in our defeat.

Since our flight was delayed we had plenty of time to leisurely drop our breakfast on the floor and fight about which one of us had the higher egg to croissant ratio. Spoiler: it was the one dropped on the floor.

The mouse had his own seat but is a complete maniac so he couldn’t stop kicking and unbuckling his seatbelt as any good 16m old is want to do. So I figured it was safest to keep him on my lap. One snotty flight attendant was perplexed and was pressing me about why I bothered to buy him a seat if he was on my lap. I did not slap her so I am pretty pleased by the effect my kids have on my airplane behavior. I am my absolute worst self while in airports or train stations. But it turns out that without another adult traveler I’m pretty chill. I don’t like what that says about my need to control every aspect of my surroundings. Being fully in charge is like a drug to me.

But I digress. Did you know it’s physically possible to have three humans in one of those airplane bathrooms? The children may have been half inside the toilet, but we did it. Not sure if I liked that better or having to pee with an open stall door because I couldn’t fit all of us and our copious amount of travel gear in the public stalls at the airport. I have literally no shame anymore…wanna watch me pee with a toddler strapped to my chest? Cool. Wanna watch both kids play with my belly fat while we’re having a snack? No problem.

Because the last time we took a long plane trip the bug puked all over me I decided to dose them with dramamine before this long plane trip. Because things never work out the way you intend, the mouse instantly puked the dramamine up on me. But this time I had a change of clothes for myself too. I’m learning?

Because of the immense kindness of strangers picking up dropped toys, making faces at the kids, and singing Elmo’s World, the trip was relatively uneventful. The most significant part of it was the compliments I got on my parenting/bravery. I was called a hero and a rockstar. My ego is now officially out of control. FYI: my husband gets this praise when he takes them both to the grocery store alone. But you know, whatever, same thing.

Derek met us at baggage claim and watching his reunion with the kids might have been the sweetest thing ever. But it was weird to feel competitive with them. He was mine first, you little fuckers.

We ended the day with green noodles and enough pizza and bread to make me feel like a human again. It’s time to go to bed. I is tired. Fingers crossed that the time shift doesn’t completely screw us.

Japan – That Plane Ride – Derek

Car is packed, ready to roll out… two weeks worth of stuff. One single bag contains everything Kyle and I need; cheers to traveling with children!

We scheduled an early flight to O’Hare so we would have extra time for the transfer from the Domestic terminal to International – turns out the ANA counter is closed until 14:30. We spend an extra hour waiting in the un-moving line instead of eating. But Kyle takes the the kids to run around while I keep our place in line, because she is awesome.

We finally board the 777-300, after a last-minute gate change.

The flight was… well:

First off, we were given some snacks labeled “rice crackers”. About halfway through the bag I realize they taste a bit fishy; sure enough, bonito and (oh boy, good thing we brought an Epi-pen) “may contain traces of crustaceans”. I immediately halt Kyle from eating any more than she already has – just about an hour into our vacation and the food is already a thing.

Then dinner.

We informed the flight staff of Kyle’s shellfish allergy, and the response was “it is ok, no shellfish. Just shrimp and crab”. Language is a funny thing.

(*Note: I want to acknowledge this situation was completely my fault. Not only did I fail to notify ANA about the vegetarian restriction/allergy in advance, but I also ignorantly speak no Japanese. Lesson learned- they were incredible with accommodation on the return flight.)

Moving on to bedtime. Even though Thing 1 has flown to NYC, Grand Cayman, Chicago, Seattle, Paris, and London, he suffered air sickness for the first time ever – after 8 hours into the flight. Only only 5 more to go! I cannot speak more highly of the ANA flight staff; our many thanks for all your help.

13 hours 40 mins, numerous plastic bags stuffed with clothes/pillows covered in vomit, and about 20 wipes later, we arrived.

20180916_221616 — Haneda Parking Lot. Sup, Subie

“Elsa” (he has many names, and it changes throughout each day) is feeling +100% since touching down, so we know it’s not actual sickness. That, at least. Off we go!

The drive is a scenic tour of Tokyo at night, but “Airplane” is more enthralled with a cement mixer and red brake lights.

Check-in. Shower. Bed. We have arrived.

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Japan – That plane ride – Kyle

what we feared would be a shit show in the making ended up a shit show. don’t get me wrong, it could’ve been worse. but twas not the best 24 hours of traveling. on the plus side, i believe i’m now officially immune to vomit.

we had planned a long-ass layover so we could run the kids around and get one last meal before getting on a plane for 14 hours. that turned into us just waiting in line for the ticket agents to come back from break and being stuck with a chili’s. the waiter had the nerve to tell me i ordered too much food. he did not realize that dining with elsa, or mac, or the excavator, or whoever our toddler is this minute, requires options for when he inevitably rejects the original meal he chose.

anywhoo…

we were given bulkhead seating. which is the equivalent to an entire apartment to yourself when dealing with airplane spatial dynamics. mouse and mcqueen/sven/skid-steer could sit and play or walk around. we were feeling fancy. we were optimistic. we were winning.

i was so high on bulkhead seating that within the first ten minutes of being in the air i began to gobble up the rice crackers…until derek read the ingredients: made with shellfish. (i’m allergic.) after that we were much more careful. when dinner was brought around derek informed them of the allergy. the staff assured us that the meals had no shellfish – one choice was beef and the other was shrimp and crab, perfectly safe for me. i’m glad i brought peanut butter.

it was more funny than anything and we were rocking the flight. the kids played, we read, we walked the aisles. it was already time for bed. got the wee ones all pj’d up, the bug tucked in on two seats, mouse nursing/snoozing, bougie neck pillows in place. this was breezy.

then thing-one fell off the seats. twice. derek went to sit with him but he woke up shortly thereafter. only three hours of sleep. we set him up with a movie on my lap and tried to keep thing-two asleep.

it wasn’t ideal, but we were confident; we were idealistic; we forgot why each seat on an airplane has a puke bag.

turns out that sleeping on a plane plus being in said plane for eight hours is a perfect equation for toddler motion sickness. he got me, he got himself, he got both pillows we brought, he got the kindle, the list goes on. he was miserable. the flight attendants were amazing (yay ANA) and we were really glad for the extra clothes we packed.

we deplaned three more vomits and six hours later.

miss fritter felt better almost immediately. we got our luggage, breezed through immigration and customs, and got to our hotel at 1130pm where we enjoyed room service while watching frozen before heading off to bed.

whew.

Japan – Tokyo, Day one – Kyle

do you need more than three hours of sleep? not me! and definitely not the two year old or baby.

we set out for a really ambitious day. we figured we should push ourselves right away to find the kid’s limits. we wanted to visit Sengaku-ji Temple which derek’s wanted to see since he was a teenager…something about the 47 ronin. where they’re burried? my sleep addled brain is forgetting the details. we knew we’d have to eat and do something kid related so we planned to walk the 7km to the temple, grab lunch, then walk to some parks before heading back.

after breakfast we met up with an expat who’s a brother of our travel agent. bill was going to hang with us and try to help us acclimate a bit.

the walk there should’ve taken us about 90 min, with a stop along the way. it did not. thing-one was a complete disaster. (did i mention he doesn’t need sleep?) we were stopping to address meltdowns every couple of minutes. mcqueen/elsa would only let me push his stroller; thing-two was strapped to me, asleep/nursing; and it was approximately 80 bajillion degrees with 400% humidity. i was living the dream.

the water we brought with us was quickly depleted and we were very grateful for the ubiquitous vending machines. turns out your train pass also serves as a vending machine debit card. things we wouldn’t have known without bill. thanks, bill.

the temple was beautiful. there was a shrine with a water feature that made music when you poured the water correctly. it was a perfect activity for miss fritter/the bulldozer.

after derek got his 47 ronin fill we found a park for the kids to play. thing-two ate all the gravel while thing-one whined about, well, everything. the lovely afternoon culminated in the camera being dropped and the lens shattering.

we admitted defeat and caught a train back to the hotel. bill was really helpful and it was sad to say goodbye to him.

while thing-two took a much needed and much too short nap i took a solo adventure to a camera store. japanese taxi drivers are fancy as fuck. white gloves and all.

although we couldn’t really understand each other the man at the camera store managed to make it clear that i’m an idiot and had only shattered my filter. i had completely forgotten the lens had one. i was giddy. i bowed much too emphatically and made everyone uncomfortable. i was my true self.

after i got back we tried to be adventurous and get some food,

shellac food restaurants use to tantalize

but everything we found was closed until 5 (does nobody eat dinner at 430, like civilized people?) and both kids were so bleary-eyed/tantrumtastic we did room service again and tucked them in.

the day defeated us.

on the plus side: we discovered that thing-one loves to pee in squat toilets and he’s SUPER into japanese bidet toilets. “i wash my butt, mama!”

Japan – Tokyo, Day One – Derek

Did we sleep? It’s still dark when the kids wake up and we start prepping for the day.

There is a shopping mall underneath our hotel, which contains a 7-11. Apparently 7-11 is A THING in Japan, nothing like the sketchy-ass one I would shop at between Extended Stay America and the Electronic Arts: Tiburon studio I worked at several years ago while in Florida. It is awesome.

We head to the restaurant hotel, ready to carb-up for our first day. After an incredible buffet breakfast (Western and Japanese-friendly), we meet up with Bill in the hotel lobby. He comes bearing gifts: three pocket-sized towels.

(*Retroactive Note* These were critical throughout our entire trip. Never thought I would quote South Park for out-of-country travel advice but, in Japan: “don’t forget to bring a towel”. No joke; thanks Bill.)

I have wanted to visit Sengaku-Ji Temple, resting site of the 47 Ronin and their gravestones, since I was a teenager. Apparently this is an oddity; Bill isn’t even familiar with the 47 Ronin despite living in the Tokyo area for +20 years. I am a nerd for old Japanese history, and the tale always captivated me, so w/e I drag everyone there for our first day in Japan and it becomes “Daddy’s Fun Park” before we head to a playground.

The temple itself is rather small but beautiful, with information plaques near the graves to recount the historical facts (including one in English), and is one of few temples that has wheelchair ramps – i.e. stroller friendly. There is also an area where water can be poured into a pot to simulate the sound of carp playing; “Mack” had a lot of fun pouring and creating the sound, an excellent interactive element for young ones.

After indulging me and waiting while I took about a hundred photos, we said goodbye and walked to a nearby playground. It was almost literally around the block.

On the way, Bill showed us the magic of “Pasmo” – the subway card that can also be used to purchase vending machine items (which are on every single street here). Awesome.

The park has a surprisingly large playground area including a sandbox, swings, slides, climbing structures, and a water refill station. The kids get their jiggles out while we attempt to recombobulate.

Anyone with kids probably knows the advantage of hanging bags on strollers, so you don’t have to carry them. Well, it turns out you shouldn’t hang an expensive-ass camera that way. This should be obvious but in our jetlagged haze it is not; Ian jumps out of his stroller, the camera weight tips it backward and… crash. There is now what looks like gravel behind the lens cap, instead of a polished, long-distance telescoping glass lens.

Tired, sweaty, and defeated, we forgo walking back to the hotel and opt for the subway instead. Luckily we have Bill, who guides us through the stations/transfers to make it back in under 20 mins. The subways go surprisingly deep – we descend four (4!) levels to catch our train.

We say farewell to Bill, who has been an immense help and excellent company. Without him, our first day would have likely gone much differently and we are grateful. Thank you, Bill.

Kyle bravely ventures out solo while Thing 2 naps, taking a cab to a nearby camera store. Thing 1/Excavator has already memorized the buttons on the toilet remote that sprays his butt, and we haven’t been here 24 hours yet. I’m pretty sure we will need one of these when we get back home.

A stroke of luck – when Kyle returns she informs me that it wasn’t the lens that shattered, just a $10 filter! It is the win we need, before ordering room service and climbing into bed. For better or worse, it is a memorable first day; now off to sleep.

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(Amendment)

Nothing like walking up and down the hotel hallway at 2 am with an 11-month old to adjust to a 14 hour time zone difference.

Japan – Tokyo/Karuizawa, Day two – Derek

After bringing Miles back from the hallway excursion (ready to fall asleep), Ian wakes up and… 4 am, we’re off! Oy.

We got ready for the day, but because Thing 2 was up so early it is naptime before breakfast; I had to run a distraction play on McQueen and get him out of the room.

The Car and I headed out for an adventure on the city streets of Tokyo. A group of turtles were making an appearance on a wood ramp from the moat surrounding the Palace hotel (and Imperial Palace?). Jackson Storm was enthralled so we hung out for a while watching them come out, wander, and dip back in.

Exploring further down, we found an open space for Lightning McQueen to “race”. It was a beautiful terrace with structures leading to a path surrounded by rock walls, picturesque for a morning walk while burning toddler fuel.

Shortly after, Thing 2 was awake so we headed back for breakfast at the Palace.

Calorie-drunk and ready to explore, we ventured to the Imperial Palace… only to discover that it was closed due to the holiday yesterday.

(While planning our itinerary, we saw that the palace is closed on Mondays. But because Monday was a holiday, it was open – thus the unexpected Tuesday closure. Serious bummer.)

If only that was the only one.

We tried to make the most of it, and walk around to a nearby park.

Because of the heat and extreme humidity, we decide it would be preferable to spend extra time at the train station in the sweet-AC rather than sweat profusely for the next hour.

Cool, except for the lost passports.

Oh. Fuck.

Our luggage is already in Karuizawa, having been forwarded ahead to lighten our load on the train. I have day-mares of it sitting at our resort while we are stuck at the embassy for days, with nothing but yesterday’s clothes and a few toys stuffed into two backpacks. Vacation over.

We split up, in a frantic effort to recover the passport wallet. I take Thing Two and physically retrace our entire morning, ending at the Palace Hotel with a desperate hope we dropped them before leaving – but no dice.

As I am being told there is nothing in the lost-and-found, I see a missed call from Kyle. She is at the police station, and saw the passport wallet being surrendered as she walked in the door. The hotel concierge is on the phone with the police at that exact moment, assisting her with translation.

Thing Two and I wait in the lobby for Kyle to return, as I repeatedly (and pathetically) thank the concierge for her assistance.

The kids are both champs throughout this whole nightmare, and after numerous bows/apologies/thanks to the hotel staff, Kyle and I decide that McQueen deserves a treat. Back to the 711, and I buy something for him which, it turns out, I never knew I needed in life: “Coolish”. It is Ice Cream in a foil pouch with a cap, cleanly consumed and saved for later if you don’t finish it. I help him with “getting the ice cream out”; he knows nothing of what the cap is for so it’s all good. Between the two of us it is gone before we leave the hotel.

With Passports recovered, we slink away to Tyoko Station; relieved but far from rejuvenated.

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Tokyo station was a frenzied blur; nothing like a Japanese train station to hammer in culture-shock to full effect. There was enough English signage and a helpful info desk employee to confirm we were in the right spot, so we found our way to the correct platform… a full hour ahead of our departure.

We took advantage of the convenient store/food stand options. Kyle found some cheese and a fresh fruit mix, combined with a sandwich she made from stowed-away Palace Hotel breakfast buffet bread slices and peanut-butter packets we brought along.

(Her foresight and ingenuity always surprises me, especially now in a country with little option for vegetarian children.)

Meanwhile I got my first experience with Japanese To-Go bento boxes (from on the actual train platform); I had virtually no clue what I was getting, aside from a tiny grainy-ass picture of the inside, a super-vague “English” description, and an epic illustration featuring a crab on the cover.

In reality, it was a delicious assortment of seafood one would never find prepackaged in a train station in the US (and if you did, good luck on that roll of the dice). Fresh salmon roe, crab, fish, eel, some fried stuff, pickled veggies, and a variety of sides that were just as delicious/fun to eat as it was to guess what they were. It deserved much more reverence than the 5 mins I had to punch it down before preparing to board our train.

Bullet trains in Japan are no joke.

It’s not so much transporting passengers from one spot to another as it is propelling them between cities at blistering speed – but in the safest way imaginable. Come on, US, where is our NYC-LA line?

Upon arrival in Karuizawa, it was evident that we were officially “in Japan”. No foreign travelers in sight, virtually no functional English outside of select hotel staff, and a simply magnificent mountain setting that exuded natural beauty. Combined with the incredible old architecture and wonderful fall breeze, it was a literal breath of fresh air.

Later Tokyo, it was real; you were a whirlwind of all the good and bad that comes with a huge metropolitan city, but we’re ready for a change of pace.

Stepping off the shuttle and onto the grounds of the lovely spa resort, it was like being teleported from hot-AF Florida summer into a mild autumn in Wisconsin (but with mountains).

The kids both take naps. The restaurant has “Green Noodles” for dinner. Right on.

We are all in a whole new zone, physically and mentally. It feels great.

Japan – Tokyo/Karuizawa, Day two – Kyle

the day ended on an upswing. i feel like i need to start there because boy, oh boy, did i fuck up our morning.

well, first the fucking children did. mouse is currently waking up at 2-3 am because 10 month-olds just do that. (how are there a million sleep regressions? sleep is necessary. catch up, babies.) i usually let him babble until he falls back asleep but that’s not a great idea with the bulldozer/miss fritter snoozing away in the same room. someone needed to walk that baby up and down the halls. since i’d been up every 30 minutes with shin/calf/foot cramps that job fell to the daddy guy.

but of course, when he was ready to get thing-two back into bed thing-one woke up. day two started at 345am. hurray!

on the bright side we had plenty of time to shower and get ready for the day. we had an amazing breakfast by the water.

buffet breakfasts always make me dumb happy

we realized that with all the extra time we could be leisurely about touring the imperial palace before catching our train…and we’re back to feeling footloose and fancy free.

that is until we notice that the damn palace is closed because of a holiday.

so.

we now have three hours to kill before our train. we decide to stroll around the area and find a park for the kiddos. the park was the oldschool kind, with metal slides that burn, lots of mud, and special japanese ants that bit the shit out of me. we were over it. all. it was time to dick around at the station and bask in the air conditioning.

part of the palace grounds, from the outside

as we’re slinking back to the hotel to grab our things i casually ask derek if the train tickets are with our passports. they are! awesome. let’s just make sure.

where the fuck are our bloody passports?

seriously.

where the fuck are our bloody passports?

i had put them under the stroller. they were not under the stroller.

i’m hyperventilating. i realize that i must have not secured them and i didn’t tell derek they were under the stroller he was pushing so he didn’t know to keep an eye on them. i can only blame the sleep deprivation. (normally, i would describe myself as a passport nazi. but nazis are real again. so i can no longer be flippant about them. gotta think of a new way to say i am strict and insane about things…tangent over.)

we began to run. like, really run. run the kind of run that makes you look deranged. well, because we were deranged.

we retraced our steps back to the park. nada. we decided to split up. i took mac/the excavator and went to look for some park police or official and derek took mouse to retrace the route we took to the park.

i went back to furiously running and half crying/half yelling at people to see if anyone spoke enough english to direct me to the police. finally (after being the most obnoxious kind of tourist) an incredibly kind young woman who understood me took me to a police box.

and in it were a police officer and a biker going through our passport folio.

i cannot describe the relief i felt in that moment. i defaulted to the furious and embarrassing bowing i’m becoming known for. the biker took off and i was left with a 50ish police officer who did not look happy with me. he wanted to know where my husband was. i began to get bristly about gender equality and shit, until i realized that i look almost nothing like my passport photo from 11 years ago and bug’s passport photo is of him at six months old. uh-oh.

i pulled up pictures of derek on my phone and showed him the resemblance, but he still seemed very upset that he wasn’t with me. he spoke no english and i speak just enough japanese to count to 100. google translate has been helpful for individual words, but not enough for us to understand each other. i finally was able to ask him to call the hotel we had been staying at and i was able to speak to the concierge and explain what was happening just as derek was frantically approaching her in person.

after about 10 minutes of them conversing and (i have to assume) exchanging irritation at these dumbass americans i was able to leave with our documents.

(i’m always embarassed when i travel abroad and don’t know much of the language. never enough to really study it, but sheepish. but wow. to have to rely so completely on other people knowing my language while i’m a guest in their country was truly mortifying and shaming. i resolve to do better.)

i run back the mile or so to the hotel (fine, i run/pant/walk) where i look like such a complete sweaty disaster that i’m immediately given towels and once again embarrass an entire room full of people. honestly, without the cute kids i’m not sure anyone would talk to me at this point.

everyone is happy when we finally recombobulate and get the fuck out of the hotel. and after the utter mess of the morning we’ve eaten up most of our leisure time and can’t do the station restaurant i was looking forward to. but that turns out to be ok because i have zero inclination to explore the complete and overwhelming crush of people that make up tokyo station. i assume it’s my lack of understanding of the language and customs, but grand central station looks like a well organized, and peaceful place in comparison.

but we still need food. derek spends way too much time trying to understand what’s in the bento boxes before i remind him that our children are about to lose their shit and he best just grab the one that looks the funniest. i grab fruit and cheese and hunker down with my stolen bread from the breakfast buffet and some peanut butter.

after all this getting on the train and getting to our new hotel in karuizawa is a fucking breeze. almost literally. the hotel is in the mountains and is significantly cooler, less populated, and peaceful.

thing-one naps! thing-two naps! after they wake up we go for dinner. we find green noodles. doc/elsa hasn’t been this happy in days. see you fucking later tokyo.