The Dominican Republic
I’ve mentioned it here several times in the past, but prior to having kids – or getting married – I did a lot of traveling. Sure I loved seeing new places, but a large part of my motivation was to photograph; it’s always been something that called to me.
So you can imagine my excitement when Willy’s work flipped the bill for us to go to the Dominican Republic. Given the fact the trip was a work function, it was by no means in tune with how I would typically travel and I found it hard not to roll my eyes at certain aspects of the trip.
Like the all-inclusive resort.
In our backpacking days, we used to glance over at the all-inclusive resorts like they were some sort of slice of heaven we were not privy too; with comforts we longed for… like showers that presumably consisted of more than the mere PVC pipe that trickled water over our heads.
Having now stayed at an all-inclusive resort, I can now say with certainty that it’s not something I’d do again and here’s why: the food was horrible. Willy and I had backpacked throughout the Dominican years ago (it’s where he proposed to me, actually) and the food is one of the things we raved about. I’m not an adventurous eater by any means so when I travel I opt for safe things like buttered pasta, but even there simple pastas were out of this world delicious. At the all-inclusive resort, we walked out after taking a mere bite of several meals. I had to spit out the one bite of a hamburger I ate. It was horrible.
The grounds were too big. So big, in fact, that you had to wait for the trolley to come around just to take you to one of the 13 pools (talk about overkill) or the beach. There was a sign on the beach that warned you against walking off the grounds because once you pass the rope you are no longer ‘supervised’. That made me roll my eyes.
The music at the pool belonged in the club. I found it hard to read my “Homegrown” parenting book with Ludacris blaring in my ears.
Out of boredom, we ventured to the ‘theatre’ to watch a Michael Jackson impersonator perform. Watching him made me feel sad; the lip singing was off, the dancing sub par, and the smell of the fog machine made me think I was at a Middle School dance formal.
Forget sunscreen? Don’t worry, the all-inclusive resort has everything you need… everything you need at a price… and a steep one at that. It’s like they know you’re stranded and they take full advantage. We paid $20 for a bottle of sunscreen. All-inclusive, minus sunscreen.
The location did not lend to any local experiences. We were completely secluded and not in the off-the-beaten path kinda way, but more in the behind-the-gate kinda way. Walking off the multi-acre resort was not an option. We paid the steep cab fare of $70 to go to a town 20 minutes away.
I did not take a single photo at the resort because I found it grossly uninspiring. Not one.
There were highlights, of course. Like the fact the door to our room came draped with a sash that read “Feliz Cumpleanos” despite the fact it was neither of our birthdays. And, well, not having kids around provided us the opportunity to truly relax and have adult conversations, so that was nice too. And there was a casino, which doesn’t really tickle my fancy, but Willy made out playing poker and had a new stranger coming up to him each day to remind him how well he did at the tables the night before. And we got to return to the town where we stayed when Willy proposed (Bayahibe), so that was special. I dug up this old post recapping our previous trip to the Dominican, from a ‘Meet Your Parents’ series I used to write…
All in all, as a lover of traveling and experiencing different cultures, it makes me sad to think of all of the thousands of people who were staying at that resort and went home with the belief that they went to the Dominican Republic. Geographically, sure. But in all other components not so much.
In any event, it’s hard to complain about a more-or-less free trip. So I’ll end by saying that the Dominican Republic is really and truly a beautiful country with lively people and terrific food. Just don’t stay at an all-inclusive resort.
Hawaii, Part II
Hawaii, part I
Things we did while in Maui: Listened to a local sing “going to California” and “fast car” (two of my favorites), after the rain led us into a saloon that’s now on our list of favorites, saw several sea turtles both from the shore as well as from in the water, spent a windy day at the aquarium, bought shell necklaces from a local maker; one went missing immediately and two days later the other broke, ate cream puffs and apple pie from a bakery the locals rave about, put extra sunscreen on burned butt cracks, potty trained Van albeit the time he peed on the car’s wheel in the parking lot and in the tide pools too because, well, when you gotta go you gotta go, ate off of paper plates to avoid dishes, gave the boys one shower that probably led the neighbors to believe we practice Chinese torture (both boys hate showers) and one bath… In two weeks (and no, we didn’t spend a lot of time – or much of any for that matter – in the pool), saw an Elvis impersonator perform poolside for all the retired folk (many of which snapped pictures with him afterwards), witnessed my first selfie stick and I have loads to say about it (namely, what happened to asking the stranger next you to take your photo?), laughed at my horrible English / Australian / anything other than American accent, walked out of Mama’s Fish House just as soon as we sat down and noticed that the kid’s meals were $20 a pop and that macaroni, chicken tenders, and hamburgers were not listed as options, watched Hooper catch his first crab, also watched him cry tears of sympathy when he came upon a dead gecko, packed more clothing than we needed and just barely enough sunscreen, and got on the plane feeling well rested, grateful, and sad to leave.
Arizona
Determined to move on with life after my accident, we decided to spend Easter – as previously planned – in Arizona, with my in-laws. We laid low much of our time, which was just what I needed. The boys are always more than entertained with the cows, dirt, wheel barrels, hay stacks, goats, pool, and feral cats. Willy managed to catch a couple of spiders, including two black widows, so the boys had fun watching all the critters eat each other in their bug cages. A lesson of prey and predator, I suppose. Also a lesson in not playing near the stack of firewood.
There were naps, some thrifting, an evening at the food trucks in downtown Gilbert, and a trip to a local farm that has a weekly farmers market.
Easter morning was filled with egg hunts, bacon, bubbles, a wheel barrel full of toys and treats, a friendly horse named Duke, and even an adult egg hung put on by Willy’s grandparents; a yearly tradition.
We took highway 8 on the way home, which boarders Mexico, and shared stories of the past of our many trips south of the boarder. I wish it were still safe to drive down there.
It was nice to leave and nice to be back. We missed an Arlo Guthrie concert we were both eagerly looking forward to; too tired and too sore to make the extra drive up to LA. When this neck pain subsides, I know regret will set in.
Hope you all had a wonderful Easter.
Palm Springs






We spent one night in Palm Springs before hitting the road to Arizona so that Willy could finish up some work out there. The weather was perfectly warm and we spent much of the time poolside; the boys in the pool and Jimmie hanging poolside with me while I rested my sore neck. The night was rough, with Willy snoring, Hooper kicking, and Jimmie randomly barfing, but we packed up, hit the pool one last time, and got on the road.
I’ll be sharing a few images from Easter in Arizona tomorrow.
Utah | Spiral Jetty
When I was younger, I remember my parents taking me out to the grapevine to visit an art installation by Christo & Jeanne-Claude of yellow umbrellas. My parents weren’t really the artist-types, but I do remember trips of this nature often. You could see the umbrellas from far away, the little specks of yellow growing larger and larger the closer we got. I remember reading about one of the umbrellas killing someone. I think a gust of wind caused one to come out of the ground. I suppose that’s beside the point.
In the 60’s, artists began a movement away from the museums and galleries and started creating art in the landscape itself. Spiral Jetty was created by Robert Smithson 1970, using over six thousand tons of black basalt rocks and earth from the site to form the coil that is 15,000 feet long and 15 feet wide. “Created at a time when water levels were particularly low, the artwork was submerged from 1972 onward, and was only known through documentation. However, regional droughts thirty years later caused the lake to recede such that by 2002, a salt-encrusted Spiral Jetty reappeared for the first prolonged period in its history. Smithson often asserted that by responding to the landscape, rather than imposing itself upon it, Spiral Jetty is a site to actively walk on rather than a sculpture to behold.” I love the idea of not imposing oneself upon it; I like to think of myself as a photographer in the same sense — not imposing, but rather using what is real and before me. Makes it more indestructible, I suppose. I find that really beautiful.
I hope my boys care about art and have enough interest in the matter to search things like this out. And, at the same time, I don’t want them to be anyone other than who they are. But, at the same same time, I hope the things I expose them to leave some sort of impression on them. Much love to my girl Janet for the introduction. And with that, my images from Utah are complete. But if you wanna take a moment to discuss Van’s oversized mittens, I’m game.
Utah | Side of a deserted road
We were on our way to one thing, short on time, with two cars filled with kiddos that had been promised things we realized we’d no longer had enough time to give them. The side of the road in a beautiful majestic canyon served as a fair substitute. Complaints of cold hands quickly dissipated as those numb little hands discovered rocks to throw into the stream, sticks to collect, and tree stumps to climb. And those little babies faired pretty darn well; arguably better than others. We stopped at a diner on the way home, got the big kids chocolate milk, and unthawed in the car on the way home.
Utah | Antelope Island
We had intended to venture out to Antelope Island last time I was in Utah and ultimately decided we didn’t have enough time and ended up at the Great Salt Lake instead. I suppose that’s the thing about Utah, you can’t really go wrong. You can argue a lot of things about Utah but denying it’s beauty is just not debatable.
We came across two different herds of Bison, both of which tolerated us at a relatively close proximity. Van was more interested in staying in the car, in the drivers seat, and pretending to steer the wheel. Hooper braved the cold with me and came out to get a closer look. It was all pretty amazing. Growing up in Southern California, I feel like the zoo is the closest we get to seeing animals in their natural habitats.
I think Antelope Island will stay on my must-see list for any and all future visits. And I won’t complain revisiting in the summer when it doesn’t feel like the wind chill is going to cause any moisture in my eyeball to freeze. Who knows, Van may even be more turned on by bison than by the car’s steering wheel by then.
Utah | At home
I flew to Utah with both boys on my own which isn’t as gutsy as it sounds. For the most part, they’re good travelers. Sure, the guy sitting in front of Hooper may have stories about a particular tray table that kept going up and down and the flight attendant may have had to talk to Van about keeping his seat belt fastened, but all in all it was trouble free. Perspective is everything, right? Van’s insistence with pushing the suitcase actually paid off because when you add up the number of car seats, suit cases, and carry-on bags and compare that number to the number of willing and able hands, I’m clearly outnumbered. Janet (pronounced Jeanette) met us at the airport and helped out from there.
The weather was cold, much colder than it had been in the weeks prior. I would have whined more, but Hooper and Van did enough whining for all of us. Determined, we refused to let any whining or cold weather or hungry babies or nap times slow us down. We had a list of things we wanted to do and we damn near did them all. As for our time spent in the home though? Well, in looking at these pictures now, it’s painfully clear that the majority of our time at home was spent feeding people. Namely babies. But the bigger kids, too.
More from Utah to come in the days to follow… lots of adventures were had.
Arizona
There’s so much I want my boys to take away from their childhood. I guess that’s why I document it so thoroughly. Not only do I want to remember, but I don’t want them to forget. Sure there will be epic trips to Disneyland or magic-filled Christmas mornings, but the days I really want them to remember are the simple ones; the ones that included walks on gravel filled roads and picking and eating oranges from the neighbor’s tree. Tractor rides and trips to the local dairy. Cold, foggy mornings spent in bed watching a cartoon on the phone and the discovery of a spider in the corner. Time not spent, per say, but shared with family. And so, I snap away in hopes that I will remember and they won’t forget these moments in time.
The Desert
I swore, after the last time, that we’d never join Willy on one of his business trips out in the desert again. I mean I resorted to letting the boys play with the bidet, for goodness sakes.
But, lo and behold, we tagged along and, lo and behold, we had a good time. Jimmie behaved, which was a large part of the battle last time. We splashed around in the pool, made it out to Joshua Tree despite the on again off again rain, met up with some friends who were also out there for dinner and drinks, and visited the dinosaurs on the way home (Hooper’s been obsessed with dinosaurs as of late).
All in all, a great trip. We’ll be out in the desert again this weekend; this time I’ll be working. While I’m thinking of it, if anyone wants to book a Saturday session, that could work out. Email me if you’re interested, I love shooting in the desert: ashley @ thestorkandthebeanstalk.com.
Desert or Bust
Janet signed up for Designer Vaca back in the beginning of the year and I assured her I would go – for moral support, ya know – when the time came. The time came and it also happened to be her birthday, so it was nice to celebrate together. The boys tagged along and we joked about how no matter when we get together, there’s some conglomerate of kids around – be it hers or mine or some mix of the both (all of hers stayed back in Utah this time around). The event was held at the Ace, so the boys and I hung out by the pool while Janet attended conferences n’ whatnot. And I’ll tell ya what, Palm Springs with two boys is a lot easier than Palm Springs with two boys and a dog. Just sayin’. And the weather has finally cooled just a bit, the high 90’s being a welcomed retreat from the triple digits. Looking forward to more trips to the desert now that the weather has cooled. Who wants to watch Jimmie? Ha.
And as a side note, what do you do with kids once they’re too big for the pack-n-plays? Hoop is far too big to be sleeping in one of those and despite his insistence on doing so when we travel, it just ain’t gonna work much longer. Even as is he looks like a drunken man who fell asleep while leaning on a wall and kinda haphazardly slid down the wall into a hunched over sitting position. It’s horrible. I’m considering a blow up mattress or just getting a room with two beds. What do y’all do?
The final straw
You know when you get to the point where you declare no more taking our crazy kids out to eat anymore? Well, we’re not there yet; mostly because we’re lazy and we like good food. But I think we’ve reached the point were we can say, with certainty, no more making Willy’s work trips into family trips. Because, dammit, it’s hard.
It always starts out by sounding good in theory; a few days away as a family, promises of exploring the desert, spontaneous trips to the Salton Sea. It’s been fun, it really has. But allow me to speak the truth: it’s fucking hard.
For one, we only have one car. So when Willy takes off for meetings (I mean let’s not forget that this is the primary reason we’re there), it leaves us stranded. In the past we’ve hung out at the pool and it’s been fine. But now… Now we have Jimmie. And, well, only the legally insane can handle two dependent kids in the pool and a high pitched barking pup who hates to be separated (aka tied up) even a few feet away from his people. Walking around downtown – in 112 degree heat – is the other alternative and Jimmie sucks on a leash and the heat eats all of my patience before I can even say hold hands to cross the street, please.
This time around, we got asked to leave the pool by the management who had received “complaints” about the “barking” dog. I wanted to cry. The amount of time it took me to hold my children against their will and slap sunscreen on them and go to the bathroom and put their swim trunks and shoes on far exceeded the 5 to 10 minutes they splashed around in the water. If only I would have had someone to complain to because dammit, I swear it was worse for me than it was for whoever had to hear it.
And that’s not even the half of it. Sometimes I feel like the little lone home wife who gets repeatedly told by her husband to keep their kids (their TWO and THREE) year old kids quiet while he fields important work calls. In a hotel room with an 8 month old energized pup? Willy looks at me with that pleading face and I want to look at him like he’s fucking insane if he thinks I have superpowers. There aren’t enough lollipops in the world to shove in those kids mouths to keep them quiet for the amount of time necessary. And it puts us all on edge.
This was our first trip with Jimmie and I voted him whatever the opposite of MVP is; perhaps there should be a LVP (least valuable player). He refused to pee on the nice balcony area we had and instead peed on the carpet at least three times.
I’m starting to feel like I’m whining so I’ll stop this rant here and end by saying we will no longer be joining Willy on his work trips. Not for a while, anyway. And by “for a while”, I mean until we can forget how hard and horrible it can be.
And yes, I let the kids play with the bidet because I had had it. Playing with dirty toilet water is now my new low. Make note of it.
A few days away…
Before I had my surgery, we used to go to Palm Springs a lot. Willy works out in the desert often, so we’ve always tagged along when we could. It hasn’t been until recently that we’ve had the opportunity to go and that I’ve been able to care for the kiddos on my own, which is typically the case when we go out to the desert and Willy works. It’s been nice to revisit my life that once was and now is, again.
We spent the mornings at the pool while Willy went to meetings, Hooper insistent on keeping his inner-tube on, Van jumping into the pool only to sink like a stone and trust that someone will be there to scoop him up. They can be so different and yet so similar at times.
We added an extra day onto the trip and went out to Joshua Tree and The Salton Sea. I’ve been to The Salton Sea many times in the past and something always brings me back. It’s hot, it’s sticky, it smells like crud, and there’s a thousand flies, but I can never get enough. And so, we drove the hour and a half from Palm Springs to have lunch at my favorite rundown dive bar / restaurant. It’s the only place to get a bite to eat in Bombay Beach and, for me, it never disappoints.
We took a new way home, through mountains and towns we had never seen, and it was beautiful. Life, albeit busy and chaotic, is more-or-less back on track. Can’t believe it’s almost been a year since my surgery.
The Great Salt Lake
My kids whine a lot. Hooper more so than Van, due to his age. I don’t think that they are any different than any other kid; all kids whine. I know “I’m bored” is in my not-so-distant-future, but at this point in time it’s a plethora of moans and groans that make my hairs all stand on end and makes me wonder why I drag my kids out of the house ever.
When we first parked at the Salt Lake, it was tantrumville immediately. Being 100 degrees out didn’t help. Nor did the smell of pungent sulfur. Or the abundance – or shall I say downright invasion – of flies or whatever those bugs are that hang out at water’s edge in droves. They whined about going in the water, then they whined when they got in the water but the salt burned, and then – as if a miracle from above – they got over it. All of it. And they, well, enjoyed themselves immensely.
Kids have split personalities. I’m sure of it.
And as the sun went down and we hosed the salt off their skin and clothes, they whined about leaving. And so it goes.
Motherhood: the never ending test of patience.
The Colorado River, Utah
We had stopped to get gas when we ran into a car with three guys in it that introduced themselves as “river guides”. This explained the rafts they were hauling and given the fact we had no plans and a full tank of gas, we joined them. We spent that night on a sandbar underneath the stars.
Fast forward eight years later; driving down the same road reminiscing and praising the angels above that nothing bad ever happened to us, ever, on any of our travels together. And there were many. We passed the same campground we camped at back then; memories of doing our laundry and putting together scrapbooks from our overseas travels we were on before we decided to hit the road. Who knew that visiting a town would unlock little mementos of tiny little memories that would have otherwise been forgotten like leaves falling from a tree and blowing away. Something as simple as a sign alongside the highway that caught your interest way back when, but did nothing for you this go-around.
Back then, we had no iPods and no iPhones. We made CD’s for the road and blasted our favorite ones over and over again. We had a book the size of the yellow pages full of campgrounds and directions of how to get to them. We had maps, for goodness sakes.
As we glanced behind us in our rented minivan, we couldn’t help but giggle about how much has changed; the kids, the car seats, the twin babies on the way, the husbands back home, Siri telling us to “continue to the route”. Damn Siri and her route. Sometimes I just want to tell her to shove it. Or at least hold on for a minute.
But one thing remained the same. Every time we passed a “view point”, we giggled again, thought of Dan Eldon (who was at that time was our idol and in many ways still is), and were reminded – as we were years ago – that the view is always all around you.
We splashed around in the same river that allowed us to rest our tired heads on it’s banks years ago. Janet, feeling weightless. Carla, feeling brave. Hooper, feeling free. Van, dropping a load in his pants that would later roll out and surprise us all. And myself, feeling grateful to add another memory with my best, most treasured friend to the proverbial banks.
Utah
The last hoorah. It’s only a few weeks later and already so much has changed. Van and Carla are now both 2. And those babies that had been kickin’ around in Janet’s belly have made their way out, happy and healthy. And so it goes, life runs her course and keeps moving whether your bags are packed or not.
I will be back in the beautiful state of Utah from August 28 through August 31, with bookings available on each of those days. I will then be in Arizona on September 1 & 2 and will be able to take sessions on each of those days as well. If you’re interested in booking a session, kindly email me: ashley@thestorkandthebeanstalk.com. Thank you.
Mother + Son Session, with Paty & Paulo
I’m all for unplugging, but it’s pretty cool when you find yourself three thousand, four hundred, and thirty three miles from home meeting up with someone who found you on Instagram. Just saying.
Paty + Paulo
Old San Juan, Puerto Rico
Interested in booking a mother | child session? Email me: ashley@thestorkandthebeanstalk.com.
Puerto Rico
We came to Puerto Rico on the dime of the company Willy works for; a celebration for his success – and the success of others – over the past year. It is a huge accomplishment and I’m so proud of him.
Nevertheless, it was hard the leave the kids behind. It was the first time, ever, that we’ve left the boys for longer than a weekend. Rewind to a few weeks before, when we were in Hawaii, and I would have paid someone – anyone – a large amount of money to pawn those rascals off on someone else. Especially on the flight. But we dealt with it, reaching deep into our jar of patience with the reality that we would soon get the break we needed when we left – alone – on our trip to Puerto Rico.
I tried not to think about the boys in a way that would take away from my treasured time with the man who helped me create them. And while we both spent time scrolling through photos of them, we did relax, unwind, and enjoy the time away.
I read a few words of advice to new moms somewhere recently and it hit home. I’m not one to usually shell out advice to new moms because I think there’s too much of it that gets floated around and – at times – can lead to an unhealthy standard of parenting. But that’s another topic. What this mom said rung so true, she said: Take time for yourself. Do enough for yourself. Treat yourself well. Because if you don’t, you’ll end up resenting the ones you love most.
I think it’s important for parents to relinquish any guilt they have in doing things for themselves. We all need – and deserve – not only time away, but time to nurture our relationships with our spouses and with ourselves. I broke out my favorite book, “The Fountainhead” and started to reread it. We listened to music. We sat in our rooms and did not a damn thing; it didn’t even bother me when Toddlers in Tiaras came on TV. There was one day that Willy didn’t get out of bed until 3pm.
It felt good to look at the man across the table from me, and him alone. No distractions. Next on the list, find a new babysitter in our new town.
*Also we got to take a short 8 minute flight to the island of Vieques where Willy met up with an elementary school friend who sailed from Texas to the tiny island 10 years ago, opened up a restaurant, and has yet to leave. Willy hadn’t seen him in 17 years so it was pretty cool to meet up with him and his beautiful wife, and son. Good
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