While we were getting dumped on with major snow out here in Ohio, it seemed a bit odd to pack up my baby and hop on a plane to go to CALIFORNIA to play in the snow… but that’s exactly what we did a few weeks ago.
As an aside, Mackenzie and I have considered turning pro in the sport of Traveling by Plane with a Baby, but as of yet, there isn’t much money to be made on that circuit. And I’ll be the first to admit that training is costly and can be exhausting. And she misses her “Da Da Da” when we’re away from home.
This was our fourth trip together that spanned at least three time zones, and she had a ball. Our first flight was at 6 am and she totally passed out cold stretched on the empty seat next to me and frequently stretched out her legs so they sneaked up onto the lap of the (assumed to be grouchy) older man sitting by the window. I think she won him over because I caught him smiling at her on more than one occasion.
Of course, every person in the airport smiled at her when we got off the plane, though.
She was in her purple feetie jams and her red hair was completely standing on end (although Kenzie is normally inclined to being a bedhead, the dry and somewhat staticky conditions on the airplane brought the hair to new heights ). She trotted around the airport two steps ahead of me giving big 7am grins to anyone and everyone.
Our next flight went fairly well, though she did cry for a minute or two before succumbing to sleep. It couldn’t have been TOO bad though, because the older couple sitting next to us leaned over and said at the end of the flight “I hope you’re proud of your daughter. She’s an absolute angel.” If they had said that to me earlier, I would have gladly given them my peanuts.
We spent a few days at my parents’ house then made the four hour drive to Tahoe for a snow-filled retreat with my co-workers. SmugMug put us up in several huge cabins and we’re such a family-friendly company, our cabin ended up with 9 children in it. 8 of whom were age three or younger. It was a blast.
My dad made an awesome video of the week that captures the emotion better than I could describe it by far. Turn up your volume and click the photo below to watch:
Some of my favorite photos:
My brother Don (SmugMug’s CEO) and I with Bob, the snowman. The kiddos were out making Bob one morning while I was feeding Mackenzie two stories up in the kitchen. They kept hollering up at me to chuck down produce out the kitchen window to make Bob’s face, and the poor guy ended up with broccoli for a nose. 🙂
(Incidentally, the banana peel mouth looked much better the day before the photo was taken.)
Don and I had an epic snowball fight in which he shamelessly coached my three year old niece and nephew to pelt “Aunt Bobe” with snow as well.
We brought two of the family dogs and neither had seen snow before. They had the time of their lives and brought endless entertainment as they learned to run up and down hills in deep powder.
I gave Mackenzie her first haircut when we returned home and then I saw this photo. She was sporting a baby mullet the whole week, I guess!
In my family, my brother Ben is the Giver of Nicknames. He dubbed Mackenzie “The Colonel” (of all things) and it stuck.
(Decades from now, I may forget how that nickname came to be, so I’ll document it here. And yes, I’m confident the nickname will endure because Ben takes his job very seriously. I call Mackenzie “Kenzie,” which apparently brings to mind “Colonel Kenzington”, and “The Colonel” is a natural result. Or so I’m told. )
Love that one of the wind catching her hair and the snow falling.
That photo documents the first time Mackenzie has ever shared the getting clean experience with another baby. The baby on her left, while darling, is a splasher.
We didn’t like that.
That’s the only photo salvaged from the day my dad and I spent skiing together. The snow conditions were phenomenal, but visibility was poor. I think it’s the best day skiing I’ve ever had in my life, and I loved that my dad stayed with me the whole day. I can get down black diamonds without hitting trees (usually) but I’m a complete klutz on skis compared to my dad. He has a beautiful style and can utterly smoke me down the mountain with minimal effort, but instead he and I spent the day finding powder and untouched sections of the trees to explore. My mom was kind enough to watch Mackenzie (and a zillion other grandbabies and other smugbabies) back at the cabin and I caught every lift ride up the mountain I could. I was continually pushing my limits and had a few close calls with tricky terrain, but I stayed on my feet and at the end of the day my quads were toast, the snotcicles were out in force, and I couldn’t keep a smile off my face. Man, that was a great day.
Mackenzie was really too young to enjoy playing in the snow, but whenever I got the chance I helped bundle these two up and hauled them up a hill to sled. (To my continued shame, I never did any sledding myself. I have an irrational fear of it, I’ve discovered. I kept intending to confront that fear and NOT get shown up by three year olds… but alas, it didn’t happen this trip.)
I did help them build domino towers while babies in the cabin were sleeping, however. And if that’s not brave, I don’t know what is!