Now I go every time I am in Minnesota. I can’t help it. With kids, it’s easy. And they do have fun. Honestly, I’d rather be hiking along one of those trails I mentioned before, but with a chance of rain in the forecast and four antsy kids - it’s off to the Mall again.

What is it that draws us to stand next to giant sized, colorful, fluffy, strange, yet hugely popular animals or cartoons? Maybe this is the beginning of our inner drive to rub shoulders with the stars. After a few cuddly photos with Blue or Sponge Bob, the next thing you know, we’re telling everyone how we rode the elevator with Rob Lowe or saw Alan Page at a gun show or had Matt Damon’s mom over for dinner one night.

I’m just as much a sucker as the next mom or dad. I waited in-line for a photo shot and even encouraged Addison to give Blue a kiss. No, it’s not Matt Damon’s mom, but it’ll do. It’ll do.

After getting them out of diapers, there’s the whole teenager thing….then we watch them go away to do it all over again. Perhaps better than us. Perhaps. We’ll see.

I took the kids to a parade. We waved the flag, like all good dual-citizens do. After a swim and a meal at grandma’s house, I tucked the kids in just as the fireworks were going off.

I set my foot on the trail and kissed it. Of all the things I miss the most about living in the States, trails - paved, windy, plotted, safe, and gorgeous - maybe is the one I miss the most. I took Coco and Addison to a trail along the Mississippi River.

Look Coco! I used to skate here with our dog!

I used to hitch up my dog - when she was younger and alive - to one of those flex leads. I’d hold on while she either pulled me or ran alongside me as I roller bladed. I described it to Coco. This is the great thing about kids: you can make any experience you’ve done seem like it was one of the greatest feats ever conquered in the world.

Wild flowers bloomed along the path. Coco touched the river and tried spelling it with the trick I gave her: M I crooked letter crooked letter I; crooked letter I crooked letter I; hump back hump back I.

The Mississippi is a grand national treasure I adore and miss as much as the trail that winds along it. We turned around after a long walk to start back for the car. Coco peered through the woods for a deer. I told her sometimes they hang out in the woods. As we continued on, a raccoon crossed right in front of us. Coco and I gave each other a high five. Addison whipped his bottle as he finished his last sip. It bounced along the path. What a perfect morning it was.

Her spring is different. Instead of melting snow, she feels the Trade Winds begin in December. And the rain stops. There is the same feeling of relief as we know we’ll be getting a break from the deluge of rain and rain. It compares nothing to trudging through the winter months of snow, but she can relate a little bit.

These babies were nesting out on my mother’s patio. A sure sign spring and summer are here. The same thing happens in Costa Rica. We have nesting birds right outside our window at home. The same things seem to happen everywhere: life, death, happiness, sorrow. It’s just the packaging is different from a red robin’s breast to the color or our skin to the foods we eat. We all still eat, love, give life, and screw it up and bounce back again.

After holding Addison up to the nest, we hid in the living room so the mother could return. I couldn’t tell exactly what kind of bird the mother was, but the babies chirped and held open their beaks again, waiting for life to come - like it always does.

Coco has been glued to her cousin. I can safely say this in almost a literal sense. For a week, Coco has followed her big cousin everywhere she’s gone. And her big cousin has been kind and, I believe quite thrilled, to have a built in friend. The two play this Ninetendo DS thing and “chat” and train their puppies, and bark commands to the tiny screen.

Coco bought the little machine in the first few days we were here. She used her own money. I’m hoping she’ll make some sort of positive connection to buying it with her own money rather than me doling out the cash. I’m sure some of that is in there, but at the age of seven there are still plenty of moments where she comes inches to destroying it. I try to let her be responsible for it’s care and up keep (it is cheaper than a real dog, or guinea pig come to think of it!), but I’ll see it laying on the edge of an arm chair or placed in a spot her seven year old brain thought was perfectly safe. This morning, she placed an Iced Animal cookie on the screen and traced it. I suggested possibly the oil in the cookie wasn’t good for the sensitive touch-screen.

As I prepared Addison’s spinach-salmon goo for his breakfast, Coco and her cousin talked to their puppies on the screen. One time, Coco said something and her cousin didn’t understand what she said.

Is that how you say stop in Spanish? she asked.

No, she replied. Coco told Lulu her computer dog to sit. Coco then turned to her cousin and asked:

How do you say stop in English?

The two girls looked at me as I laughed and laughed. This little game machine was well worth the money.

The only thing that’s a little odd is that I want to speak Spanish to people, especially in stores. I have become this cultural mutt. I could never breed Minnesota out of my blood. Much of what I do and who I am is rooted in the backyards and screen porches of my past. Sometimes I feel like speaking Spanish. Maybe I should think about barking instead - being the mutt that I am.

Traveling with kids has always meant I get to do less of what the grown-up me would like to do. And, I’ve learned to be content with zoos and playgrounds and cutting short all my trips to these delicious coffee shops due to an almost, death-like boredom that overtakes my children as they wait for me to finish typing. But this year, I am so content and relaxed and almost - dare I say it - thrilled to while away the hours on the deck with the kids or trying to again straighten all those clothes on the floor. And when I try again and again to connect to the Internet and that $5.00 Starbucks card I just bought isn’t working and Addison wants nothing to do with the FREEZING interior and groovy decor, I pack up and move on. I may have said a few “bad” words under my breath as I folded the stroller into the back seat, but over it I got. And so quickly. I even amazed myself.

I owe this peace to my kids. I owe this peace to my family. These people who put up with all my goofy odds and ends. I sat across the table yesterday at Caribou coffee (where I later found out had FREE internet!) and saw the same blue eyes of a dear friend behind those slightly tinted glasses I’d known for years. After ten years, he still thinks I’m an O.K. person. And I am grateful I can be his friend again. We really always have been. Those ten years, well, I guess we all have gaps. A little filling in, and we were back to those carefree nights -the ones we used to spend as kids -playing ping pong and skating and just being. Funny it took me such a darned long time to get back to just being all over again. And this time, I have more. I owe my peace to it ALL: from the green peas Addison just slopped on to my lap top to the long summer nights and to all the hearts, and to all the hearts.

Accilimating to a culture goes both ways. I’m back where I came from, yet I’m used to where I am now. Since this is not making sense, I suppose it is best to stop writing before I write something I will regret. Finding Internet cable has been a bit more challenging than I expected. Finding a moment without the kids is more challenging than I remember. No school or husband or nanny to take them off my hand for an hour or two. My relatives are super wonderful, but that special needs thing adds just that extra zip in the holiday challenge.

When I stopped in Target to get some diapers, of course the “Baby” section was on the opposite end of the store. My mom waited out in the car with a sleeping Addison and a coughing Coco. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses on my way to the check out with the mega-super size of diapers (was everything always mega-sized???). I opened the bag of M&Ms after checking out. The super-sized bag dumped into my handbag. I could hear them jiggling on the bottom as I walked out. I couldn’t get the red or black price tag off the sunglasses, so I walked out AS IS. For a second I thought: what if I meet prince charming on the way out. I shrugged. Guess he’ll have to take me AS IS.

(Special note: Since my mother’s computer came out of the box when dinosaur’s walked the planet, you may experience spelling or grammatical errors that were out of the operator’s control in fixing. I’m trying to talk her into a new one, we’ll see about that.)

The flight was fine except for an incredibly crabby women that scolded a thrilled group of eleven year olds traveling to the U.S. for to help bring cultures closer together. I hauled the kids and all our stuff down the isles and on to customs.

Coco! We forgot Addy’s bottles on the plane!

I had been so worried about finding Addison’s socks that I forgot the black bag of Addison’s coconut water under the seat.  We shuffled through customs. Coco held back tears and I sought out the first Continental agent. She called the crew. It didn’t look good. The agent got a serious look on her face and said, “I’m going to check myself.”

I stood there and tried to comfort Coco. Those bottles were the key to the rest of the trip -  in fact the first few days going without much drama.

Oh my! I said. I forgot the DVD player too!

Almost at the moment I finished this sentence, the woman from Continental came walking towards us with BOTH black bags in her hand. I ran up and hugged her! I think I may have professed my love for her too, but well. I was a bit excited. The DVD player I could live without, but those bottles!

At yet another security check, the guy in Newark shouted to his co-workers that I had way too much stuff. And I did. But it was that food, all that gooey food.  When I forgot to take my laptop of the bag, I was sent to another line, barefoot, hoping holding Addison and hoping Coco would hold her own and stay close.

Once I mentioned the food was for my special needs son, the guys were so nice. They checked it all out and were nice, in their rough sort-of way.

I have a doctor’s note, I said. He said he didn’t need to see it. No one looked at the note.

On we went through delays. It was quite a few  hours until we found ourselves in bed our new/old land. We spent the next day catching up  - as we relatives tend to do. Coco is glued to her cousin and doing all those things cousin’s do. 

And to answer’s Wendy’s question, no I don’t have a nanny, but it’s sometimes this is a good thing, though challenging. We’re ala going to learn a few things while we’re here - quite a few things.