Do I love my children more than anything in this world?
100%
Do I love TAKING them places?
No. It is the literal worst.
But I do it anyway, because that’s what good moms do, and I’m a good mom. Am I a GREAT mom? Meh. Probably not. I’m no Jennifer Garner whipping out orange slices at a soccer game. You want me in charge of snacks for multiple children? Cool. They get fruit smileys or applesauce pouches. I’m no Gwyneth Paltrow feeding my children only homegrown, organic, wheat grass fed, whatever the—Okay, forget that. If I ever become Gwyneth Paltrow just put me out of my condescending misery.
I digress…
I’m not the world’s greatest mom. I won’t be winning any trophies. But I love my kids and I want them to have cherished memories. My parents did it for me; now it’s my turn. It’s why my kids have instruments. Is it brutal listening to them learn? Big time. But the joy on their faces and the happy dance in my heart any time they learn a song? Nothing compares. Which brings me back to taking my kids places. I do it because it’s important.
Two years ago we decided we were taking a trip to the Oregon Coast so our kiddos could finally see the ocean. Unfortunately, Covid happened. Then last year, the location we planned to stay fell through and we had to cancel again. This year, we finally made it.
Ten hours of drive time (that doesn’t include bathroom breaks and run-off-the-crazies breaks and kid-throwing-up-on-the-side-of-the-road breaks. JUST drive time). My kids are relatively good travelers, but I still wouldn’t wish that drive on anyone. Well, maybe Gwyneth Paltrow. Kidding. I think.
Very few things actually went as planned on this “vacation.” There were many, MANY meltdowns. Public meltdowns. So very public meltdowns. Then there was the fridge in our rental house breaking and the owner being seemingly indifferent to the situation. We had to pack everyone up and move to a different house so our food wouldn’t spoil. Meaning we got to completely scrub down TWO rental houses, because heaven forbid the cleaning fee you pay AirBnB actually count for anything. Nope. Gotta do all the dishes. Gotta wash all the linens. ALL. THE. LINENS. I’m sorry, if I’m trying to hit the road by 6 a.m. with four children, how am I supposed to get all those sheets washed and dried?! The kids slept on top of the comforters all week with blankets we brought from home. That’s how.
Again, I digress.
The only way to describe family vacation when you have children (especially young ones) is absolute chaos. Which is probably why up until this year’s Oregon Coast trip, the only vacations we’ve taken were to visit family. There was always a purpose behind it. A wedding. A reunion. A holiday. A funeral. Or simply to just be around family. This was the first time we hit the road just for the sake of going somewhere we’d never been to enjoy the view. Well, actually, we were supposed to see family along the way but add that to the list of things that didn’t go as planned.
For the most part, family “vacations” aren’t actually a vacation for primary parents. You know the one. Whichever parent kids automatically run to and rely on for everything. Whichever parent does most the planning and budgeting and making sure everyone has everything they need. In many cases, including mine, the primary parent=Mom. Essentially, going on this trip just meant doing all the things I do at home, but in a different location, and without many of the comforts of home. So, yeah, there were times my anxiety was screaming and I felt like burying myself in the sand and leaving everyone to their fate. But I didn’t. We survived. We went to the beach every day. We saw a lighthouse. We traveled through some amazing towns with breathtaking scenery. We watched the sunset over the ocean. We stayed in two different towns none of us had ever visited, in two different houses. We made it back to our humble abode at the end of it with our sanity mostly in tact, and everyone had a new appreciation for home.
Last summer, we went camping, and I asked my dad afterward how he and my mom had done it so many times when I was growing up. He had no answer, other than to laugh and shrug it off, like it was no big deal. Let me assure you, IT WAS A BIG DEAL. On multiple occasions, they took all five of us camping and very generously brought every single one of us home afterward. Not once did they leave any of us sitting by the lake or next to the road. Nope. Never. I’m honestly amazed, because it’s so much work to make memories with kids.
But oh, my, gosh, is it totally worth it.
We’ve been home a month, and my youngest (3) still thinks every body of water is the ocean. All four of my littles still talk about the beach and the houses we stayed in and how much fun they had.
Every trip I’ve taken my kids on (there have been many), at least one thing has gone horribly wrong. For at least a moment (usually MANY moments), I’ve cradled my head in my hands or dragged my fingers across my face asking why I even bother. I’ve yelled. They’ve yelled. They’ve cried. I’ve cried. Someone’s gotten hurt. Someone’s puked.
But here’s the thing…
When they get older, I doubt they’ll remember being pulled over on the side of the freeway while I rinsed puke buckets and dug for clean clothes or scrubbed down carseats with baby wipes. They won’t remember me losing my cool and turning into Mean Mom because someone pushed someone or threw a toy at someone’s head. Okay, so they probably won’t remember ALL the times I turned into Mean Mom.
What they’re going to remember most is the ocean. Chasing and running from the waves. Playing with cousins and camping under the stars. Roasting marshmallows and making music around the campfire with their large, loud, extended family. They’ll remember the water slides and the trees they climbed and the adventures they had. Those are the moments I remember most from my own childhood. Which is why I’ll keep saving and budgeting and researching and planning so that next summer, we can go on another vacation that’s not really a vacation for Mom & Dad. Because my family—me included—deserves it. And also because one day, my children will have families of their own, and they’ll remember how their mom would pack them in the minivan and take off for grandma’s house like it was nothing, even though it was actually quite a trek. They’ll remember how Mom and Dad drove them across Idaho and Montana and Utah so they could see their family (and the mountains).
They’ll know how important these non-vacations are, and they’ll do the same for their family.
Then, very likely, they’ll call me and ask, “How the heck did you do this?!”
And I’ll just laugh, and laugh, and laugh.
Genalea Barker 