Me at yesterday's Noritake shoot (I ate my props after taking this pic). 

I learned about three things over the past twenty-four hours, and you should know about all of them. (Two of them I learned about from Francesca; #creditwhereitsdue.)

OK, so yesterday at about 4PM I had just wrapped the shoot above, and was happily ensconced in my office (my bed), wearing a chic little outfit (ancient pajamas) and eating a heart-healthy snack (leftover Buttercrunch Christmas Popcorn), when Francesca called and told me that I needed to come over. I protested that I was busy (watching Netflix). And besides, it was RAINING. People who live in Los Angeles do not drive to friends' places when it rains; they barricade themselves in their houses and panic.

Kind of insane just-us-three camping trip, Summer 2018

So here's an odd little post-divorce conundrum that hadn't occurred to me until just recently: How does one best go about having a "family vacation"? See, the kids have Spring Break coming up in April, and since they've gone on two trips with Kendrick recently I'd really like to take them somewhere special for the week (I know, that sounds competitive - and it is, a tiny bit, but also I'm finding myself craving that kind of magical time with them that seems to come with being out of your element).

But...what does one do, exactly? How do you vacation with kids when it's just you and them, without...I don't know...feeling like you're just spending the whole time herding cats? Or without feeling weird, being in a place that's very literally set up for the kind of family that you no longer technically are?

Because sometimes it's fun to dream big.

I cannot tell you how many times I have triumphantly handed over a present to a friend's child, only to watch them open it and have the mom say "OH HOW GREAT IS THAT?!"...at which point the child informs me that um, he already has three of those.

This holiday season, when giving gifts to other people's children: Don't be me.

(These gifts also work for your own kids, obvi.)