On a whim my husband and I decided to take a break from our crazy life in Maine (and the plummeting temperatures). Two weeks ago, we booked a trip to Virgin Gorda, a small island in the British Virgin Islands. Deciding whether to take the trip took a night or two of conversation. Booking the actual trip took 5 minutes on Travelocity. But organizing care for our three kids took seven days of planning, a grandmother, a night nanny, three fabulously supportive friends and a spreadsheet to keep track of who went where when.

When I practiced law, I thought leaving my caseload in order before a vacation took a lot of work. Ha. That was nothing compared to getting three kids squared away -- bus notes, musical instruments, tutoring schedules, early band, snow suits, play dates, drop off, pick up. After heroic efforts and the incredible generosity of my family and friends, on the morning I left to fly out of Boston it seemed everything was set. I drove off fairly relaxed and confident that all would be well . . . and that I would soon be on the beach with my husband.

Following the two hour drive to Logan Airport, I went to check in at the electronic kiosk. I punched in my confirmation code, pulled up my reservation and selected my seat. Then it asked me to swipe my passport. I did. Nothing. Did it again. Nothing. A very helpful American Airlines employee came over to help. She swiped my passport. Nothing. Ah, she said, machine must be frozen, try the other one. I moved over, passport in hand, wondering in some small part of my brain why my passport had hole punches in it. So I tried again on the new machine. All went well . . . until it asked for the passport. I swiped. Nothing. I opened my passport and looked at the picture inside. I thought wow, I look really young. And then in a matter of seconds I thought, oh . . . that is the picture I took to get a passport to move to Spain when I was in college . . . wait that was twenty years ago . . . wait. . . passports only last 10 years . . wait . . . oh damn it . . . I brought my expired passport.

Well to jump to the end of the story, the universe (and my super calm husband) made it all right. Kurt found a taxi to drive my passport from Maine down to Logan. American Airlines put me on the next flight out to San Juan. And I arrived on a beautiful island only four hours later than my originally scheduled arrival time!

So for those of you out there constantly struggling to manage each detail of your family's crazy schedule, don't forget to get yourself together. Or at least don't forget to travel with proper identification. ali