Traveling with my children was once a big part of my life. I had the chance to explore the United States and many other places around the world when my kids were young. Now that they’re all adults, I no longer take the lead in planning our trips. In fact, I don’t think I can plan a vacation as well as my kids do these days. I just wait for their invitations.
I’ve had the opportunity to travel a lot with my family, especially during the time when my three oldest sons were young. We covered the country from north to south, and even touched both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. We camped in the Adirondacks, skied in New Hampshire, and took a tour of the nation’s capital. The boys’ favorite memory from our trip to Washington, D.C., wasn’t visiting the White House or the Lincoln Memorial — it was eating a meal at a place that combined KFC, Taco Bell, and Pizza Hut.
Now that my kids are all adults, I don’t plan trips anymore. Our adventures have taken different forms over the years. Perhaps my greatest travel triumph was organizing a trip to France for myself and my three oldest kids, who were then 7, 4, and 2. I bought the tickets, expedited our passports, got the visas, found accommodations, and even arranged a ride from Charles DeGaulle airport to the 17e arrondissement. A Francophile friend suggested I just hop on the Metro and make my way across the city, but the idea of carting three young children, suitcases, and a stroller onto the subway in a strange city where I didn’t speak the primary language very well gave me panic attacks.
Because the regular tourist activities felt too daunting, we spent days absorbing the culture of Paris, playing in local parks, shopping for the French toys they saw on TV in the evening, and eating the most amazing food they’d ever tasted.
In a what-was-I-thinking moment, I allowed my 7-year-old to walk to the corner patisserie alone to buy our daily baguette. After all, he was learning French in his second-grade class; how could he not handle making this simple purchase? It made sense to me at the time. He was never out of my line of sight, but still, that perhaps was not the best parenting decision I’ve ever made.
I’m no longer the trip advisor. As our family grew to include two more children, our travels became far less frequent. They’re all adults now, and it’s even more challenging for us to gather together, let alone plan a trip. That didn’t stop my daughter-in-law from arranging a Christmas vacation for most of us in Vermont. She found a 5-bedroom house on Airbnb in downtown Burlington, big enough to accommodate seven of us within walking distance of shops and restaurants. She bought airline tickets for her, the baby, and me, and rented two cars for the rest of the family to drive from NYC to New England. She made reservations at the nearby ski resort for snowboarding lessons and booked dinners at the trendiest restaurants.
All I had to do was show up. That felt weird.
It feels weird not having to do anything. After decades of making all the arrangements for everything, I didn’t have to do a thing. Navigating this new role hasn’t been easy for me. It’s another in the long line of transitions I am making from full-time mom.
No special accommodations were made for me, not that I expected any. Decisions were made, events were planned, and meals were prepared. I was welcome to join — or not. I was never left out of any activity, but I was also not consulted or specifically asked to join in. It was my choice to make.
No one cajoled me to come along when I told them I was not taking snowboarding lessons. They just left me on my own. Alone in the house, I automatically reverted to mom-mode — throwing everyone’s towels into the wash, straightening up the kitchen, and taking out the trash.
Now I just get to enjoy. It took me a while to revel in my new freedom. I didn’t have to ensure that everyone was content, happily occupied in some type of activity. It wasn’t my responsibility to provide the entertainment or fill the gaps in time when there were no planned events.
I could pick and choose what I wanted to do. I took a nap while everyone went snowboarding. I walked downtown when they visited a nearby brewery. I snuggled the baby as they played raucous rounds of board games in the evening. And I loved every minute of it. No guilt. No recriminations for not doing enough. No stress. No panic attacks.
I would be happy to take the lead on making the arrangements, but now I know that’s not something I have to do anymore. Quite frankly, I’m not sure I can do as good a job as one of my kids anyway. All I want now is the invitation so I can just show up and enjoy our time together.
