1.22.2011

Where the wild things are

Traveling with children certainly changes the destination and adventure. When it was just Cam and me, we were free to wine and dine in the poshest restaurants; we scanned cities with thoughts of romance and relaxation; we jumped on tour buses at a moment’s notice, route unknown; our itineraries included words like “class 5 rapids” and “extreme downhills” and signed waivers were required before we let our adrenaline do the walking; we went to bed every night without really sleeping (wink wink) and woke up every morning to a new city; we signed up for dangerous missions and packed whatchamacallits with our unmentionables; and need I mention all the hot cars we wrecked and the bottomless glasses of martinis we drank – yeah, shaken not stirred.*

(*disclaimer: the last few events took place only in the author’s so called mind, but exaggerations are so much more fun to write.)

Now that we are traveling with kids, the adventure really begins in the airplane…no, at the airport…well actually, the trip to the airport. Okay, so the adventure begins even before we leave the house. Packing is pretty wild. It’s not just clothes anymore. We have to figure out a way to haul the car seat, stroller, booster chair, and toys along with our baggage. Then somehow stuff diapers, bottles, breast pump, snacks, books, lap tops, DVD’s, extra clothes, and more toys into a luggage that’s already ripping at the seams. And the trip to the airport is even wilder because we have to turn around and return to the house at least three times to retrieve items we’ve forgotten or think we’ve forgotten. But the really wild part is at the airport. If you haven’t gone through security with a stroller and a baby strapped to the carseat…well you haven’t really lived. And let’s not talk about the plane-ride if you are pregnant, have back pain, epilepsy, or heart-problems.

When we arrive and finally get to enjoy the city/resort/jungle/wasteland we’ve chosen to throw our hard-earned money at, the first thing we do is rest-up, and sleep, and rest some more, and sleep some more. We must always have a plan when we go out; our maps clearly show where the public restrooms and play-areas are. Dining choices are limited to “kid-friendly” restaurants and must have diaper-changing stations in the restrooms. There’s nothing wilder than using a beautiful restroom sink as a tub to bathe a toddler covered in poo (yes...sh!*t happened, it really did). Tipping the server is a wild adventure as the percentage increases with every utensil dropped, drink spilled, food thrown, and yes even glassware broken. The looks we get from strangers are no longer because we are a cute couple in love but because there’s a baby screaming and the other child is wrapped around my leg. Hotel fitness rooms are no longer essential with all the running around between zoos, aquariums, playgrounds, amusement parks, museums, ice-cream shops, toy stores and any storefront colorful enough to catch a kid's interest.

When we finally return to our hotel room, it’s a whirlwind to get everyone cleaned up and ready for bed. We are so tired but happy, smiles in our faces and all the wildness temporarily spent. As we hug and kiss our kids goodnight and tell them we can’t wait to visit all the wild places again the next day, Cam and I know just how lucky we are to have these adventures at all. We would not change a thing. Not one wild minute.

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