YOUR KID IS A TERRIBLE TRAVELER

A family vacation sounds so idyllic, until you realize that the people accompanying you on this adventure are, in fact, the same family you have at home. The disappointing revelations continue as your kid evinces no more enthusiasm for packing his own suitcase than he does for locating his arm pads before lacrosse practice, and eagerly points out as many shortcomings in your out-of-town accommodations as he does at the old homestead (yes, the tile in the hotel bathroom is cracked, and yes, we’re all aware that Jonah’s house has a fire pit and a trampoline). By day three (two? one?), you are wondering how many massages it will take to get you over this getaway, and not-entirely-just-for-fun Googling “adults-only resort properties,” while your scowling kid helps himself to another waffle at the breakfast buffet (all part of the meal plan!) and demands to know if he is going to have any fun today.

Okay. Let’s rewind and try this whole thing again.

It is actually possible to take a fantastic family trip—and if you are lucky enough to have the time and the resources to travel with your kid, you totally should. However, you should read this first.

Before you do anything—anything!—repeat these words to yourself: “I am the parent, and I get to decide.” Yes, I’m talking to you—say it! Say it over and over, forcing conviction and confidence into your voice, until you really, honestly believe these words and are prepared to act accordingly. Why? Because these words are the secret to your success. Along with fuzzy slippers from home and a white-noise app on your smartphone, they are your greatest tool in ensuring a genuinely enjoyable family vacation—a vacation in which you get to be an active and happy participant rather than a cranky chaperon, a faux-cheerful camp counselor, or an overworked, unappreciated tour guide.

Because here is secret-to-success number two: You deserve a vacation, too. Somewhere along the line, “family vacation” became synonymous with “going someplace your kid wants to go,” and that, my friend, is just wrong. If you are flexible and would like to include your kid in some aspects of planning the vacation, that is great—you will make him feel like a part of the process, convey the sense that you are in this together, and get all of you excited about sharing an adventure. However, limits need to be placed on your kid’s inclusion. For example: There is absolutely no reason in the world to begin the trip-planning process by excitedly telling your kid that a vacation is in the works, asking him where he’d like to go—and then feeling bound by whatever he says, lest you disappoint him or spoil his fun or something equally ridiculous. You are the parent, and you get to decide.

Now, I am not suggesting that you schlep your kid on a five-day biking tour exploring the wonders of the Italian countryside (I’ll come, though), but neither should you dismiss as selfish your desire for a getaway that includes at least a few adult elements—maybe some pretty scenery, maybe some intellectual enrichment, maybe some physical activity, maybe some great shopping, maybe a bit of pampering, whatever floats your boat. Your kid can not only survive but actually enjoy a trip that has not been arranged around his every preference—and a couple of museum outings or a few hours in the kids’ club while you relax with a pedicure and massage are a small price for your kid to pay in order to have Happy Mom rather than Stressed Mom as his travel companion.

Yes, Disney people, I hear you. I realize that there are many parents out there who honestly, truly, deeply want to spend their free time at Disney, and who find fulfillment, joy, and happiness in vacations at theme parks, family beach resorts, and the like. If this is you, that is awesome, and I can’t wait to see the photo book of your kid rocking a set of Mickey ears and riding the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train. But if this is not you, please don’t pretend that it is. It’s not fair to you—obviously!—but it’s also not fair to your kid. You will be able to sustain your chirpy facade for only a (very) limited time; and the second your kid gets a little whiny, fails to display the requisite amount of gratitude for the churro you just paid, like, a million dollars for, or complains that the line for a ride is too long, that facade will come crashing down. You will suddenly morph from Bubbly, Exuberant Mom to Maleficent Mom; and the ensuing fireworks (not the fun kind) and ruined day will not be your kid’s fault but your own. It is far better to know and honor your own personality and limits, even if it means your kid ages out of childhood without a trip to the Magic Kingdom, than to pretend to be someone you’re not. Which is actually pretty good advice in general if you want to go write it down. I’ll wait.

Of course, choosing your destination is only the beginning. There is still the not-inconsiderable matter of packing up the shit you’ll need, a task that is not only a complete pain in the ass but also far above your kid’s skill set—so by all means, have your kid veg out in front of Dog with a Blog while you take care of it for him. Wait, wait, I’m kidding! Seriously, turn off the TV and work with your kid to create a packing list. Talk with him about how long you’ll be away, what activities you’ll be doing, what the weather will be like; and help him figure out what outfits he’ll want, if he needs a jacket, that kind of stuff. Yes, he might get annoyed or wish you’d just take care of packing for him—but if you approach him as a partner in the trip and really let him make some decisions for himself, he might also surprise you by jumping on board and taking some responsibility. And unless you are traveling through freezing weather and are less than ninety-five percent sure your kid will remember to pack the COAT you wrote in huge letters and underlined twice, consider not checking his bag to be sure he followed the list perfectly—wearing mismatched socks every day or having to wash out his undies every night in the hotel bathtub because he thought two pairs would see him through a six-day vacation is not only a learning experience but also stuff you and your kid will one day recall as a highlight of your travels together.

And speaking of together, please remember that your kid is no longer a helpless infant who requires eighty pounds of equipment for every outing—and, by the way, the person carting that equipment around is you—but is a growing and able-bodied person more than capable of doing a little schlepping of his own. Have you seen those kids pulling small wheeled suitcases through airports while their parents—weighed down with the massive bags of stuff those kids will actually be wearing, using, and misplacing throughout the trip—gasp for air and praise them as “helpers”? Of course you have; they’re everywhere. But have you seen the three kids dragging humongous duffels through the airport and only occasionally wondering aloud why Mom is carrying nothing more than her laptop and backpack? Those are mine, and they are awesome. I highly recommend you initiate this practice in your own family travels; and, by the way, a handy response is, “After all the years I carried your suitcases, you must be so happy to be able to do your part,” or “We’re all working together to make this trip great, and this is a way for you to contribute.” Let me know if your kid greets these answers with understanding nods and renewed enthusiasm for the task; mine do not, but they do keep dragging the bags, which is good enough for me.

What used to be the most challenging/miserable (choose your adjective!) part of traveling has, of course, been rendered completely innocuous with the advances of technology. A kid who ten years ago would need a pack of Bendaroos, five toy cars, two jars of playdough, finger puppets, Color Wonder markers, and a thousand increasingly impassioned reminders to Please! Be! Quiet! in order to make it through a three-hour flight or drive can now quite serenely travel from New York to New Zealand, as long as the tablet battery or the in-flight entertainment system holds out. But while I am all for a peaceful, happy journey, I do want to put in a brief plug for unplugging, at least part of the time.

Yes, flights and car trips are a great time to zone out on games and movies—but they are also a great time to bond by reading a new book aloud; playing goofy games like I Spy, Geography, or Twenty Questions; looking for the states on license plates on passing cars or the letters of the alphabet on signs and buildings; marveling over the crazy shit for sale in the SkyMall catalog; or just daydreaming, chilling out, and talking about the coming trip. Yes, you miss a lot of angst by securing a handheld device or a DVD player for each kid—but you also miss some potentially very nice moments. (And if you like the idea of unplugging during part of a long car trip but your kids are too cranky and ootsy for sweet-family-bonding-type activities, consider more subversive options like crushing stuff in the automatic window, looking for the most inappropriate billboard, and—this last one is from my friend Heather—it’s too horrible for me to contemplate but maybe you’ll like it—Roadkill Bingo, which is played exactly as you are imagining.)

And when you finally arrive at your destination, welcome! I have no idea where you are (and if you’re in the Italian countryside, that pisses me off, because I totally would have come) so I am not going to offer a day-by-day guide to getting the most out of your vacation. However, I am going to offer one final recommendation:

Assume that things are going to go wrong, and that it is okay. There is really no such thing as a perfect vacation—and if you pressure yourself to have one, you are going to be too stressed and miserable to enjoy what is probably a very nice getaway. Don’t beat yourself up if you feel cranky one day, don’t feel guilty for taking your kid on an outing when he’s made it quite clear he’d rather sit in the hotel room with your phone, and don’t freak out if the beach is closed one morning due to shark sightings (well, maybe then). You have no idea how these setbacks will play out, or how they will be remembered by your kid.

I will share that the most horrible trip our family ever took was to New Orleans, which I understand is a very nice city that you should definitely visit, but perhaps not with young children during March Madness in a Bourbon Street–area hotel. Anyway, for all the complaining, whining, and grumbling I heard from my kids that weekend, the experience has become one of our most cherished memories. “Remember how we thought that guy lying in the street in front of our hotel was dead?” my son will ask. “And then he finally got up and started drinking again? That was amazing.” So really, you never know.