Thanksgiving is one of the biggest travel weekends in the US. In honor of that, I’m posting an excerpt from my e-book 10 Reasons NOT To Travel With Kids.

Here are a few of my favorites:

Because airplanes are no place for potty emergencies
They cry, they fuss, they scream, they are usually hungry and in need of the potty simultaneous to your arrival at seat 435 E. You discover the emergency just as you see the line in the far-distance forming outside the airplane restroom. Have mercy on your fellow travelers & yourself and leave your kids at home.

Avoid inpatient psychiatric treatment
In your deepest heart, you know Mommy will end up in a home after traveling in an enclosed vehicle of any kind with young children, an intermittently helpful spouse, and insufficient caffeine. And your health insurance (should you have any) won’t cover that sort of breakdown, now will it?!

Because people always say they’ll “help”…
But when you actually arrive at your host’s home, you find that their idea of “helping” means holding your screaming toddler so you can go to the bathroom. Whereas you had hoped they would watch the children for 85 hours so you could sleep, shop, get a massage and go on that dream date.

If you ARE traveling with kids this holiday, you have my sympathy. Be sure to see my apple martini recipe for relief once you reach your destination…

What about you, any reasons you’d like to share? I’m all ears.

As many of you prep for Turkey Day feasts, I thought you’d appreciate a good laugh. Kitchens and I aren’t compatible and this video only confirms the frustration that made me swear off holiday cooking.

While I can’t personally champion a Tofurky Thanksgiving, this does make me wonder if turkey’s really worth the hassle. Mrs Mogul, this one’s for you.

I met David when I was 19 and a Sophomore at university. He was a transfer student, a musician, and an avid cyclist. He was, to my 19 year old eye, gorgeous. Gorgeous. Semi-hippie, long-ish hair, and smart smart smart. He charmed me with poetry, feminist theory (ack!), and his deepening love for me. I held back, arguing that my position of important authority (I was a Sophomore living in a Freshman dorm serving as an academic advisor), precluded any romantic entanglement. That this piqued his interest and determination should have set off numerous alarm bells. But alas, part of that first freefall into love is the open-heartedness and trusting ignorance of innocence.

I remember going home with him for Thanksgiving to meet his parents. His was a lovely house full of books and classical music in an old section of town with grand trees and lush lawns and old but well-maintained sports cars. His family was welcoming and intelligent and they didn’t seem to mind at all when David and I went upstairs and disappeared for a few hours to “talk about our relationship”. I remember the talking well…

That evening after dinner, I looked over at him and realized I was in love. It was dark outside and we walked along a quiet road, and I watched his face as he moved in and out of streetlamp light. In and out of shadows, he would turn to me then away as we discussed books we loved, life at university, and other unnumerable things. His loveliness was like a golden thread weaving us together and my heart, not easily lost, was released then to him. Fully and openly.

A few weeks later, after he realized that his two month pursuit of me had finally reaped the reward of my returned affection, he began acting strangely and withdrawing. And because you know how this ends, I’ll skip the harrowing slow decline.

David broke my heart.

I headed home that Summer after Sophomore year, wrecked, broken, and disconsolate. I missed many days of my overachieving internship, cut my hair short, sobbed and sobbed to my parents, called friends, slept and slept. By August, I managed to recover enough to start running again. I started making lists of things to do each day…. reasons to get out of bed. One day it was to see a new gallery down from my office. Another day it was to eat a candy bar. Little by little, I returned to myself and to the world I remembered before David.

As Junior year began, I saw him across campus. As the electric shock coursed through my body and I steeled myself for that first meeting, I realized if I could put one foot in front of the other and keep walking, I’d get on…and get over.

And I did.