Departure

"Buckled in" courtesy of kcl_seattle.

We made a special trip to our independent bookstore to stock up on reading material for our Summer Vacation. Then each child was tasked with filling his or her backpack with items to keep them busy during the eight-hour flight to Washington, D.C., and from there, the five-hour drive to the Avalon, New Jersey. Here's what I found when I took a peek:

Max

• Aquaphor for perpetually chapped lips
• "The Prisoner of Azkaban" and "The Goblet of Fire" by J.K. Rowling
• Space workbook
• Uno

Sam

• A bag of Legos
• U.S. presidents workbook
• Pocket knife (which was returned to its drawer after he learned backpacks would be searched)
• Coloring pages of pirates
• "Red Wall" by Brian Jacques
• "Stormbreaker" by Anthony Horowitz

Chaja

• Paper dolls
• MP3 player
• "A Wrinkle in Time" by Madeleine L'Engle
• "Stardust" by Neil Gaiman
• Journal
• Scissors, colored pencils and sharpener
• Deck of cards on the 50 U.S. states

Ivan (with a little help from his mama)

• Bubbles
• Animal crackers

In my own pack, I've got my knitting, "The Shadow of the Wind" by Carlos Ruiz Zafón, and reinforcements: books of sudoku, mazes and word searches, as well as granola bars, string cheese, raisins and nuts, and, when all else fails, M&Ms to bribe my babies.

Preparations

My family's packing for our Summer Vacation, and I think it interesting to see how my husband and I both achieve peace of mind before locking the door: He buys a packable porta potty. I spend two days washing comforters, sheets and pillows.

Our obsession with keeping dry and clean date back to 2002 when we took our 3-year-old daughter and two 1-year-old sons to Amsterdam to visit family. While waiting to board the return flight home, one son vomited. Shortly after take-off, the second son joined him in what turned into a 14-hour pukeathon across the Atlantic. We ran out of clean clothes, then we ran out of dry clothes. The stewardesses avoided us, a U.S. Customs agent waived us through without an inspection, and as we waited to catch the last leg of our flight, our daughter began throwing up. When we arrived home, we hauled our stinky, damp, exhausted bodies into bed and slept.

Seven years and one additional child later, we're about to board a plane and not get off again for eight whole hours. In the face of such insanity, we take comfort knowing that in our carry-on luggage is a tiny toilet, and in our home are freshly laundered sheets on all the beds. Just in case.

First summer soup

Photos courtesy of Dance in the Kitchen.

With three pounds of cherries pitted using a paper clip, I made cherry brown butter bars that were a hit at our backyard barbecue (three people asked for the recipe), and a soup that never made it into the bowl. Here's why:

I gave my love a cherry
That had no stone
Steeped in a broth of chicken
That had no bone
I added sugar, salt and pepper
And simmered it on the stove
I called the soup supper
For my love

How was that soup of cherry and chicken broth?
My love took a sip and began to cough
He spat into the sink and cried
It tastes of dirty socks
You're right, I answered

Let's order pizza from Black Rock.

What's NOT in the bowl:

Cherry soup adapted from Chez Panisse Fruit by Alice Waters.