The very thought of it harkens me back to the old days when we used to be able to travel overseas for weeks at a time. Every night we'd have a leisurely dinner over wine. We would people-watch and sometimes carouse with the locals. And then we'd stumble back to our hotel room at whatever time of the night. The next morning, we'd sleep in and have a long breakfast or brunch sipping our coffee while reading the Herald Tribune or USA Today before planning our day's activities. Or, we would revel in not having to plan at all. Because we were on vacation, after all.
And perhaps we'd take in a museum or two. Or we'd go to a local park and take in the sun and fall asleep on a park bench. Or under a palapa. Just because we were on no real schedule. And sometimes, we'd read a book or two that doesn't require a short attention span. Or we would take in the sights and sounds of the locale we were visiting - whether it's the bustling activity of La Rambla, or the haggling and bargaining over handicrafts in the Plaka, or venturing on a jungle cruise through the rainforest in Belize, or taking in the breathtaking Tuscan vista and tranquility of Cortona, or hanging by the pool in Cozumel as we waited for our dive boat. And we would pause, take it all in, and live SO in the moment because we were on vacation. And that's what vacations are for, after all.
The old days. We had it so, SO good.
(sound of car tires screeching to a sudden halt)
Fast forward to 5 years later.
Here are several scenes and memories from our last 3 1/2 years of travel:
- Hannah has the major runs in the make-shift pack and play in the same room we are sharing on our "family getaway" trip to Puerto Vallarta. Then Luke gets the runs. And then all night, we proceed to change out their diapers as they work through Montezuma's Revenge. And then we all proceed to get sick.
- Luke's face flares up for 2 days from the "sugar" cookie my dad accidentally gives Luke. The sugar cookie that ends up being a peanut butter cookie. Luke's got a BAD peanut allergy. And we are on a boat. With no real doctors. Yes.
- Hannah barfs on Dave (after my dad gives her Cheetos, see the theme here?) on our 3.5 hour flight from Chicago after we've already been flying for about 9 hours from overseas. Of course, we have spare clothes for Hannah, no spare clothes for Dave. Dave proceeds to stink up our row for the rest of the flight. I want to barf myself. This, and the anxiety I already felt at the beginning of the flight when I learn that San Diego is burning (think SoCal wildfires) and that our neighborhood is in the evacuation zone...yes, our neighborhood with the house we had just bought 6 months prior. And of course, we are evacuated after we've been out of the country for 16 days. Thank goodness for packing well.
- Luke has an accident in his carseat and doesn't bother to tell us about it on a 6 hour roadtrip up the California coast to our family beach house. (Oh by the way, dried pee stank on a carseat is a bitch to wash out.)
- I freak out when I see the flashing red battery sign on our portable DVD, and yet, we still have another 2 hours left on the plane. In desperation, I break out the Dollar Store gifts out of my backpack gift-wrapped in aluminum foil as another attempt to entertain the kiddos. They open them in excitement, and then at some point during the course of the rest of the trip, they manage to throw them under the seat at which point the toys roll forward about 10 rows. (Note to self: don't ever buy airplane toys that are capable of rolling).
- Luke has a major breakdown on our tour bus coming back from Florence after a long day of shopping and sightseeing - with no naps for the kiddos, of course. And naturally, the bus is filled with old people who at some point many moons ago were parents but clearly forgot what it's like to have toddler-aged children. A man in the row ahead of us yells "SHUT UP!!!" I do everything in my power not to reach over the seat and knock his spectacles into his head.
That's all. So you'd think with all of this we would plan to never go on a trip again. Especially an overseas one. Or one to Europe, especially. But noooooooo... here we go plotting yet another overseas vacation (or perhaps maybe it's just me, in my mind?!), romanticizing the notion that we will be infusing all of this culture into our children's lives at an early age, bequeathing to them our love of travel, our wanderlust and our aspirations to do and be all things worldly.
And you know what they get out of it?
Not much - at least at this age. Luke's big memory of our European vacation last year is of the "London Bridge" (it's really the Tower Bridge, but he loves the song so much that he calls it that) and the "bicycle wheel" (the London Eye). Hannah's big memory was of Big Ben and her obsession with it throughout the trip. And losing Flounder in a tapas restaurant in Barcelona.
But, that's. about. it. Yup.
So, it's not that I don't have peaceful, serene memories of our last several trips with the kids. It's just that most of them involve sleeping or spa'ing or running by myself for an hour or having a babysitter who is watching them while we can actually enjoy the vacation locale.
And happy memories? That, we have a TON of. But calm serenity is another thing. NO. CAN. DO. This is precisely why parents plan trips away. To recharge their batteries. Because dear God knows that taking a family vacation depletes energy and often leaves you running on empty by the end of it.
So what does that mean for our vacation this year? Yes, another road trip up the central California coast to the family beach house. And if we learned anything from our last few travel experiences, we will bring the grandparents in tow (this time, sans peanuts and Cheetos).
And according to Dave, we won't even attempt to do another overseas or "flying" trip for some time...at least until the kids can appreciate it and we can handle it better.
At least I have my imagination...and my old travel memories.
(And in my mind, we will be off to Belize, or Cabo, or Ireland, or New Zealand, or...)
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