A little while ago my husband and I were sitting at a red light, stuck in downtown traffic, and I read the following bumper sticker in front of us: My Life is Better Than Your Vacation. It was plastered next to one of those stick figure decals in the rear window of a very large minivan. There they were: stick Daddy, stick Mommy, stick Sister, stick Brother, stick Baby, and even stick Dog, next to their smug self-proclaimed affirmation of a perfectly happy harmonious (stick) family. My husband snorted in disgust, “That’s obnoxious!”
Is it really? Now, several months later, I find myself faced with the prospect of a travel-less summer. We have no plans to stay away from the comforts of our home other than the occasional night or two of camping nearby. After seven months of regular trips out of town, mostly for my work, I am very much looking forward to spending as much time as possible back at home, in the same house with my ENTIRE family, falling into a regular routine and rhythm that had previously been disrupted so frequently before. I am very much looking forward to my “plain old” life. I hear my SAHM friends complain but I still can’t help envying the repetitive reliable cadence of their days. Breakfast, park, lunch, play dates, groceries, dinner, baths, then bed. Sometimes there are morning work outs, sometimes there are music classes, and sometimes there are day long trips to the beach or the aquarium. There are variations and changes and last minute plans and cancellations but the underlying tempo of their households beats steadily without fail, and their families know it. I am counting down the days until I can get my own daily rhythm back.
That being said, however, I still travel extensively -- in my mind. Since my children have not yet turned 5 and since our household budget is tight (hence, the multiple out of town work assignments), actual travel, i.e., a real vacation away from home, is not feasible. And I am a sucker for the ploys of email marketing. Disney, Tahiti, Hawai’i -- they all beckon me, taunting me from the comfort of my electronic inbox, with big blue letters screaming, “Special Deal!” and “Limited Offer!” and my personal favorite “You have been chosen for this Exceptional Vacation Package!” So I surf the Internet and I dream of tropical turquoise blue waters, squeals of delight meeting a life-sized Mickey Mouse, and breezy summer nights in remote locations. And while I’m fantasizing, my children are appropriately thrilled/grateful/enthralled by our fantasy vacation -- again, all in my mind.
Because the reality of my fantasy is this: unless you have a personal nanny who travels with you, traveling with young children is a lot of work and, quite honestly, not that much of a vacation for me. There's the packing, the planning, the back up planning, and, oh heavens, the whining which is almost non-stop between the children and the exasperated grown ups! I read about these exotic vacations where the authors journey to exotic locations ferreting out the non-touristy secret places that are so fascinating to homebodies like myself. They write about adventure, unusual customs, stunning vistas, even dangerous passages and near death encounters. In short, they write of a life I would have yearned for before my children were born.
These days, though, I find that my children are adventure enough for me. The old adage about seeing the world anew through your child's eyes really does ring true. My almost 5 year old twins don't need a trip to French Polynesia to be captivated by their surroundings. Heck, they find a minivan with automatic doors just as fascinating. Seriously, I can let my kids crawl around inside our minivan while it is still parked in our driveway and they will spend the next hour inventing games, pretend driving, and digging for buried treasure. And I can't count the number of times that a couple of flashlights in the hallway closet was all they needed to make their imaginary cave expedition complete. As for me and my "expeditions", I find that there is nothing more amazing and engaging than participating in the growth and development of a human being, from embryo to adult. Stunning beauty? I see it every day through a mother's love in my babies' constantly changing faces. Unusual customs? They make their own rules as they go along; cracks in the sidewalk become rivers of fire we have to hop over and after bath rituals include naked marches in the living room chanting, "New world kids! New world kids!" As for danger, I am so often amazed and bewildered by the ability of my child's tantrum to elicit such a powerful fight-or-flight response in me. I would have to concede that my most frustrated moments are indeed quite dangerous, if only for the sake of my emotional sanity! In the blink of an eye, my children are changing, morphing, adapting, then changing again. Just when I think I have them figured out, they move deeper and deeper into unchartered waters of parenthood leaving me flailing and struggling to keep up. And as they change, I change too. They reveal parts of me I don't like and parts of me that I didn't know existed. I had no idea I was such an awful and wonderful person until my children were born. There is no place on earth that challenges me more than my child's heart.
I will probably never climb to the volcanic rim of Mt. Yasur or swim with the dolphins in the South Pacific Ocean. I doubt I will ever visit Fiji or Tonga. I still enjoy reading about the experiences of other travelers the way I enjoy reading about Internet vacation specials. I still travel to all those places in my imagination. For now, I am perfectly happy, almost in a stick figure kind of way, to keep my REAL adventures at home.
This post was inspired by the book "The Unexpected Circumnavigation" by Christi Grab. I received a complimentary copy as a member of the online book club From Left to Write. All opinions expressed are my own. You can read other members' posts inspired by "The Unexpected Circumnavigation" at From Left to Write on book club day, June 28th.
