This is an sample category description, which can be used to boost SEO rankings. Make sure you enabled this from the Edit Category screen in your dashboard.

The harsh realities of spotting fish

/in ,
L, in a quieter (and calmer) moment.

L, in a quieter (and calmer) moment.

There’s a saying in poker that goes like this: “If you can’t spot the fish [a.k.a., the worst player] at the table, it’s probably you.” Something very similar could be said about family travel—when you can’t spot the most poorly behaved child on a plane or at a resort, it’s probably yours.

This isn’t a platitude, people. It’s not me waxing philosophical. It’s truth. It’s reality. It happens to every traveling family at one time or another. It happened to us. On our vacation to Maui earlier this month.

As amazing and perfect as she is, our Big Girl, L, is incredibly sensitive to disruptions in her sleep schedule. As a result, the poor thing spent portions of our trip being a wildwoman. She hit. She scratched. She screamed. She kicked. She said horrible things about how she wanted a new Daddy. At times she even lashed out at her Mom (this is akin to the Dalai Lama dropping an f-bomb).

In short, my kid had a few bad days—just like every other 5-year-old in the history of 5-year-olds.

For us, managing her during these episodes was trying and exhausting and exasperating and awful. For other guests of the hotel, however—people who don’t know her or us—the scene was full-on hell.

These people gave us eye rolls. They tossed dirty looks. Some shook their heads in disapproval. One night, when L was grunting like a gorilla because she didn’t want to pee before bedtime, a neighbor actually shouted, “Shut the hell up!” from his lanai.

To be honest, I sort of don’t blame the guy.

I also don’t feel bad. Kids are kids. When you travel with them, sometimes it gets ugly. As parents, we can try our best to manage these situations when they arise. But at some point, you just have to deal.

Many parents “deal” by not taking their kids anywhere. That’s not an option for us. And it never will be.

Instead, we simply take things as they come. On good days, those days on which everyone behaves, Powerwoman and I kick back and watch the girls and smile squinty smiles and whisper to each other how lucky we are. And on bad days, those days on which a stranger tells our kid to shut the hell up, my partner and I try our best not to snap at each other, and to remember that, despite the drama at hand, life’s still pretty great.

Sometimes we fail—we’re human, after all. Sometimes it’s so stressful that one or both of us ends up crying in the bathroom. And sometimes we wonder why we even try to travel with such young kids.

Here’s the thing. Sure, we question. Yes, we doubt. But we never waver from our commitment to show our kids the world. Traveling with children can be tough—we’re the first ones to admit it. But even when our kids are the fish at the table, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Pulling the plug on a family trip

/in ,
A quieter moment, before the storm.

A quieter moment, before the storm.

If you’re a parent with kids under the age of 7, you know that public tantrums don’t discriminate. Kids can have them in any place, at any time. In the morning. At night. Heck, most little ones can go psycho mere moments after telling you they love you.

Kids even can have public tantrums on family trips.

Maybe it’s the new surroundings. Maybe it’s the challenge of grappling with different sleep schedules. Maybe it’s a different diet. Whatever the reason, it can happen. And it sucks.

We know this because we’ve suffered through them. L had some epic meltdowns during our spring trip to Yosemite—meltdowns that left us wondering if park staffers were going to report us to rangers for harboring a wild beast. R had a doozy during last month’s trip to Lake Tahoe—an episode during which she locked herself in an empty hotel room and we had to call security to get her out.

When such dramas occur, we parents are left with three basic choices: a) Ignore the bad behavior, b) Discipline the behavior accordingly, or c) Pull out of the public situation and retreat to a more private spot.

Powerwoman and I have tried all three of these options. Lately, however, we’ve opted for Choice C.

I know, I know—every kid is different. Perhaps your son or daughter will respond positively to choices A or B. Perhaps he or she might be scarred for life if Mom and Dad leave that kick-ass aquarium just because of a “few little slaps.”

The point of my post is this: In the event of a tantrum on a family trip, sometimes you just have to pull the plug. And it’s totally OK to do so.

Here are some signs a pull-out may be necessary:

The tantrum has gone on for at least 10 minutes. Most tantrums end on their own after a few minutes of hell. If your kid keeps going after that, it might be time to get outta there, for his sake, for your sake, and for the sake of the other people around you.

The tantrum is putting people in danger. Everyone’s child goes bag-of-bones during temper tantrums. That condition (no matter how biologically peculiar) can’t hurt anyone, except maybe your kid. But if your child starts flailing or throwing objects, it’s time to abort the mission immediately.

Others are getting agitated. Normally my opinion about others in relation to parenting is, “Who cares?” In this case, however, especially if you’re in a place with its own security guards, when other grownups get agitated, it is high time to hightail it home.

There are no signs of listening whatsoever. Kids are great at tuning us out, but there usually are at least a few indications their ears are still functioning. During doozy-level temper tantrums, those few indications disappear. Be aware of this situation and act swiftly and accordingly to rectify.

Most important, follow your gut. If you’re just feeling like it’s time to leave, leave. Yes, this strategy usually means curtailing some sort of vacation-y activity such as hiking a trail or having a nice meal or checking out a museum. And, yes, the logistics of retreating can become difficult; especially if there are crowds involved (see my previous comment about those park rangers reporting us to Child Protective Services).

Still, we have found that with our kids, bailing in the event of tantrum helps snap them out of the horrid behavior more quickly, which ushers back normalcy and puts us in the best position to get on with our vacation more quickly and painlessly every time.

How do you deal with your child’s temper tantrums when you’re traveling as a family?

Embracing tourist traps on family trips

/in , ,
L, panning for gems.

L, panning for gems.

As a native New Yorker, I like to consider myself a pretty discerning human being. I can smell a poseur from a mile away. I know when food isn’t fresh. And when it comes to vacation destinations, I’m usually the first in a crowd to call, “tourist-trap,” when such a distinction is warranted.

One might think that traveling with L and R has softened me a bit on this last point, but, in reality, the opposite has happened: Lest I expose them to something cheesy, I’m more of a skeptic than ever before.

For this reason, when we travel, we end up rejecting group/tour options and doing a lot on our own.

With this in mind, you can only imagine the conundrum I faced during our recent trip to Lake Tahoe, when the girls spotted an advertisement for a (totally contrived) gem-panning attraction and insisted we go. This is the very sort of thing from which I strive to protect the kids. Yet from their perspective, it involved gems, which meant it was non-negotiable. We simply had to go.

So we did. And they got their bags of dirt. And we walked up some stairs to a makeshift aqueduct, where we also found “pans” to sift the dirt. So the girls sifted. And they found gems. Dozens and dozens (and dozens) of gems. And they squealed with happiness. A lot.

At first, I was miserable. Sure, I pretended to be excited for their behalf, but inside, I silently screamed, “I CANNOT BELIEVE WE ARE ACTUALLY SPENDING OUR VACATION DOING THIS.”

After the fourth piece of squeal-inducing quartz, however, it hit me: The kids were having lots of fun.

Then, a miraculous phenomenon occurred: I started having fun, too. I found myself breathing heavily as I tried to unearth a shark tooth from wet sand in the pan. L showed me a sparkly green gem and I legitimately was impressed. R decided to name one of her agate crystals, “Princess Purpleflower,” and I laughed so hard I cried.

The four of us panned for gems for nearly an hour, and we could have done it for three. At one point, I looked up to see about six other people watching us, smirking. I didn’t care.

On the drive home from Tahoe, I asked L to rank her favorite parts of the trip and gem-panning held strong in her top three (star-gazing also was on the list). To be completely honest, I’d put the panning in my top three, too. And I’m not even ashamed to admit that here.

No, I’m not encouraging everybody to accept entire vacations full of shlock.

I am, however, arguing that, especially on family trips, it’s perfectly acceptable to suspend disbelief every once in a while. As Elsa sings in Frozen, let it go.

Remember, just because you think some place is a tourist trap doesn’t mean your kids will. Everything you encounter on a family trip is new to them—even places that are totally contrived. Once you fight your own skepticism about these experiences, once you see the place through their eyes, you might actually enjoy yourself. I know I did. And if it means finding another quartz crystal named Purpleflower, I’m open to trying again.

Softening on road-trip screen-time

/in , ,
Our new setup.

Our new setup.

You can teach an old dog new tricks.

That was the lesson from today’s road trip to North Lake Tahoe, where we’ll spend the better part of the next week at The Ritz-Carlton, Lake Tahoe. (One of the reasons we’re here: the tents in which the girls are sleeping as I write this post.)

In the olden days—you know, four years ago, when L was one—I swore I’d never be the kind of parent who stuck his kids in front of a screen on road trips. I grumbled about the parents who fail to engage kids on long drives, cited research about the deleterious effects of screen time, noted that my kids seemed more lethargic after watching TV, and vowed that I’d never, EVER soften on this stance.

Today, however, I finally and formally caved; the kids watched Frozen on our Kindle Fire during the first 100 minutes of the drive.

Logistically, this development was easy; once I installed a plastic arm from iGrip to the pole of my headrest, the biggest challenge was staying awake to write about it. Philosophically, however, it was a HUGE deal for me.

The kids, of course, thought their new in-car entertainment system was a real treat. As soon as the movie ended, they clamored for more.

And that’s where I drew the line.

You see, after years of railing against the notion of screens in cars on road trips, I wasn’t about to embrace these suckers on an unlimited basis. Instead, my new philosophy on the subject revolves around limited exposure—they can watch ONE movie or ONE program per drive. Nothing more. No matter what.

So far, the new policy seems to be working out for everyone. The lesson: In family travel (and in everything, really), be ready to admit you’re wrong.

What’s your opinion about screen time for kids on road trips?

Exploring the proverbial backyard

/in ,
grsb

L and R, looking for shells at Goat Rock Beach.

During an average year, we Villanos are away from home as a unit anywhere from 60-80 days overall. Last year we logged nearly 160 days away from home (including a 122-day stint in England). The year before, we spent 31 consecutive days in Hawaii.

Naturally, then, the four of us jump at the chance to explore uncharted territory closer to home.

Because we live in Northern California, this means pretty much everything from portions of the Peninsula to the Central Valley and places in between. It also means the North Coast.

One of our favorite recent finds: Goat Rock Beach, part of the Sonoma Coast State Park that extends 17 miles from Bodega Head to Vista Trail, north of Jenner. This area is literally less than one hour from our home. It also has everything my kids love: Crashing surf to watch, shells to collect, marine mammals to ogle (or ignore), and a river in which to splash.

I took the girls on a Friday earlier this spring. Our goal: To hike to the southern edge of the mouth of the Russian River and watch members of the resident harbor seal colony raising pups and otherwise doing their things (really, I should write, “thangs”) on the other side.

The plan began flawlessly. We left the house after breakfast and arrived at the beach parking lot by 10 a.m., well before the typical crowds. After snack in the trunk (I drive an XTerra, and L and R like hanging out back there with the gate open), we grabbed our shell collecting bags and bee-lined for the beach, about 500 feet away.

This is where things slowed down considerably.

First was L, who decided the best way to collect the shells was to find a spot of beach, sit down, and parse through EVERY SINGLE SHELL within reaching distance. Then was R, who wandered for a bit, then whined, staggered over to me, and threw her body between my legs until I simply had to pick her up.

Finally, after about 45 minutes of these shenanigans, I convinced the girls to race me to the end of the beach.

When we arrived, two researchers were watching the seals through binoculars. The humans were eager to share their opera glasses and excited to pass along knowledge of the seals to my kids. I was jonesing for the girls to learn about seals, too; I had studied this species during a college job at the Shedd Aquarium, in Chicago, and the kids had never seen these critters in the wild.

Unfortunately, the girls had other plans. To put it mildly, they are more interested in toe fungus than they were in those seals on that day.

So we improvised. We skipped stones into the oncoming surf. We imitated seagulls as they took flight. Then we wandered around the back side of the beach—the river side—and I let the kids splash around in the shallow and (relatively) slow-moving water.

They were so happy in that water, they didn’t realize how long it took us to walk back to the car, how many pictures I snapped, how much time passed, or how wet they got. In that moment, all my daughters cared about was splishing and splashing and imitating fish and quacking like ducks. The whole way home, the river experience was all they talked about—the shells were cool, but the river-splashing was AWESOME. L insisted on knowing: How come had not taken them there before?

The lesson in all of this is an epiphany I’ve had in these (virtual) pages previously: Sometimes the greatest family travel adventures aren’t as far afield as we think.

To find them, research your area, put in the effort and—on the ground—let your kids lead the way.  No, you might not get to teach them about seals (or whatever seals represent to you), but you might find yourself face-to-face with something even more earth-shattering for them. That’s all that really matters anyway.

What sorts of family travel adventures do you seek close to home?

All potty, all the time

/in , ,
Potty. At Gott's in St. Helena.

Potty. At Gott’s in St. Helena.

We’re deep into potty-training here this month, as we’ve been trying to get R to ditch the diapers and embrace the toilet like the rest of us. She got the whole peeing thing down quickly. Poop, on the other hand, has proven to be a significant challenge. As in, we’ve lost an average of five pairs of undies a week.

This explains why Powerwoman and I have been toting a portable potty with us wherever we go. Into town. To the doctor. And, yes, even on road trips.

Case in point: today’s pre-Mother’s Day excursion to St. Helena, one of the fanciest towns in the entire Napa Valley. While tourists enjoyed hamburgers and milkshakes at Gott’s Roadside, I was looking for a place to stash R’s portable throne. While other visitors wandered up and down Main Street in Prada and Vera Wang, there was yours truly, pink potty under my arm.

A handful of passersby (mostly younger folks) were oblivious to my accessory. The rest, however, looked at it quizzically, then glanced at the girls, and smiled.

The smiles revealed a certain familiarity; it was as if many folks were saying, “Dude, I was there, too.”

On one hand, these knowing smirks reassured me that our recent lives of Potty 24/7 are not that unusual. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but wonder: Generally speaking, why don’t I see more parents schlepping around potties in today’s day and age?

I’m being serious here, people. Every kid learns how to use the potty; why isn’t potty training more of a common sight with regard to family travel? Is it just that families don’t travel when their kids learn? Do most parents prefer just to put their kids in pull-ups when they’re on the road? Are we the only ones ridiculous enough to lug around a full-on potty (instead of a potty seat R can just use in a rest room)?

Obviously, I’d love your input on this issue. In the meantime, I intend to stick to my guns. The girls and I have a picnic date on the Sonoma County Coast this Tuesday. I’ll be the guy with the pink potty.

Dumb stuff people say (and write)

/in ,
I fly solo on business trips, but I am not a pedophile.

I fly solo on business trips, but I am not a pedophile.

Believe it or not, Donald Sterling—the racist owner of the Los Angeles Clippers—wasn’t the only person to say something really dumb in the last week.

Nope, in the world of family travel, Tracey Spicer, a mommy blogger from Australia, scored some serious stupid points, too.

Spicer, who has A RECURRING COLUMN in the Sydney Morning Herald, wrote Sunday about how she doesn’t want her “kids sitting next to a man on a plane.” In a nutshell, her post alleges that men are more likely to commit child sexual abuse on planes.

One of the final lines reads: “Sure, not all men are pedophiles [sic], but offenders are predominantly male.”

(Seriously.)

If this line isn’t offensive enough, the rest of Spicer’s argument certainly does the job. She cites “data” from the Australian Bureau of Statistics that indicates “90 percent of all child sexual abuse is committed by someone in, or known to, the family.” Then she goes on to write: “However, stranger danger is a risk and women are perpetrators in only about 8 percent of the cases.”

Spicer cites other “information” to support her case. One incident—an obvious outlier—was from 2001. Another, from 2012, widely was accepted to be a case of an airline behaving badly. She mentions a third incident, but that one was from 2012, as well. And it also wasn’t cut-and-dried.

Don’t get me wrong, I applaud the author for trying to raise awareness among parents that you never know who your unaccompanied minor might get as a seat-mate on a long flight.

Still, to do it and besmirch all male travelers in the process—that’s just irresponsible and dumb.

Here’s a novel thought: If you’re a parent and you’re spazzing out about who your child might sit next to when he or she flies solo, how about you just FLY ON THE PLANE WITH YOUR KID?

More important, why do so many people wig out over issues relating to family travel by air? Why do kids on planes prompt people to do and think and say such weird stuff?  What is it about family airplane travel that makes so many sane humans sound nuts? Every time an item like this hits the news, I ask: What could we be doing differently to change the perception of kids on planes?

Let’s hope we find some answers soon.

What to do when the kids won’t fly

/in ,
Our L would rather just pick poppies all day.

Our L would rather just pick poppies all day.

We pride ourselves in this house on being a family that can go anywhere at any time. We’ve traveled as a unit to multiple continents and multiple countries. We’re old pros at just about every type of transportation. Heck, our kids have more stamps in their passports than about 90 percent of the population of the United States.

Imagine, then, our surprise this week, when L declared that she did not want to fly on airplanes anymore.

(Her exact words were: “I’m done with planes.”)

The Big Girl’s last flight was more than four months ago—our return trip to London. Neither Powerwoman nor I is entirely sure what prompted the kid to put her foot down like in this fashion. Some of the theories we’ve discussed:

  • She reflected on the duration of the flight home from London and decided it was too long.
  • She really hated running out of lollipop on the descent and does NOT want her ears to hurt like that again.
  • She just wants to stay closer to home for a while.

Whatever the reason, her declaration definitely has complicated matters. On one hand, we want to take her wishes seriously and at least make it seem like we’re listening to her. On the other hand, travel is what we do in this family, and a handful of our upcoming trips inevitably are going to involve airplanes of some kind.

(For instance, we’ve got upcoming vacations to Hawaii and Walt Disney World, in Florida. You can’t really get to either of those places from California without flying.)

Ultimately, I think we’ll compromise—slow down a bit on the air travel (we’ve already booked more road trips for the summer, including one that involves an RV) but also make sure L understands that some of our family vacations necessitate a plane.

Privately, Powerwoman and I also will hope L’s current stance on airplane travel is nothing that a few Dum-Dums can’t cure.

How do you respond when your kids say they don’t want to travel a certain way?

Doing is believing

/in ,
Tossing rocks (and pinecones) into the Merced.

Tossing rocks (and pinecones) into the Merced.

There are logical reasons why touch tanks always are kids’ favorite part of the aquarium. The exhibits are at kid-level! They’ve got stuff kids can reach in and grab! Most important: They are one of the only places in the facility where kids can DO instead of just SEE.

This last reality is one we traveling parents often overlook. Yes, it’s amazing to expose our kids to international cities and world-class museums and great music and all sorts of cultural phenomena like that. It’s also a big deal to let ‘em get down on their knees, roll up their sleeves and interact with stuff for themselves.

I was reminded of this last weekend, during our storybook family vacation to Yosemite National Park.

Sure, the kids loved it when we hiked to Mirror Lake. And yes, they loved it when we traipsed around Yosemite Valley for different perspectives on Yosemite Falls, the highest measured waterfall in North America.

But they were happiest when they were able to get their hands on the nature around them.

The first example of this came during our hike (from The Ahwahnee hotel) to the lake. About halfway out, L and R insisted on wandering off-trail, exploring the granite boulders around us for “cozy hideaways” for fairies. I monitored these activities closely; technically they weren’t supposed to be off-trail at all, and the terrain wasn’t exactly easy to navigate. Still, amid the boulders, picking at moss and leaves and all sorts of other stuff around them, the girls played for hours (literally).

The second example of the importance of doing came toward the end of our visit, on a day when L and I went out to explore while R and Powerwoman napped back in the room.

My older daughter and I wandered out of the hotel and back toward the Merced River. There, along the riverbank, we spent 15 minutes tossing pinecones into the current and watching them head downstream. I could tell L was curious about something, so I asked her if there was anything else she’d like to do. Her response: “I want to feel the water, Dad.”

And so, I let her. I held her jacket while she leaned out from the side of the bank and dipped her hands in the Merced. Once her hands were wet, she pulled them back and wiped the water on her tiny face. As the droplets ran down her cheeks, she stuck out her tongue and giggled.

“It’s cold!” she commented. Then she dipped her hands in again. And again.

To be honest, I had no idea how meaningful that moment was until the drive home. Somewhere around Mariposa, my wife turned around and asked the girls what they liked best about our trip.

R’s answer was simple: She loved the waterfalls. L’s response, however, caught both of us grownups off-guard. “My favorite part was feeling the river,” she said. “It was fun to see the waterfalls but touching the water itself was amazing.”

I’m not sure I could have said it better myself.

The yin and yang of family travel

/in ,
Outside The Ahwahnee, right after we arrived.

Outside The Ahwahnee, right after we arrived.

Five days have passed since our family excursion to Yosemite National Park and The Ahwahnee Hotel. Though the trip was, by its very nature, a dream come true, the adventure included stratospheric highs and horrendous lows.

Chronicling the highpoints is easy. On the list: Watching the girls seek “cozy hideaways” for fairies as we hiked amid granite boulders on the way to Mirror Lake, hearing the kids sing songs from “Frozen” as Little R experienced snow for the first time in her life, taking them to the Curry Village Pizza Deck, helping L put her hands and face in the Merced River to see what it felt like, and, of course, spotting a bobcat slink by less than five feet away.

Of course watching my girls watch Yosemite Falls also was pretty amazing—the baby could not get over the fact that the waterfall never “shut off.”

The lowpoints are just as easy to enumerate.

Like the mid-brunch tantrum on the last morning that featured L scratching her mother like that aforementioned bobcat. Or R’s insistence on being carried for the duration of a 3-mile hike.

Both of these experiences paled in comparison to the indisputable nadir: The night when my 2-year-old daughter kicked me out of the bed we were sharing and screamed like a banshee until I agreed to sleep on the floor.

(At first this scene amused me; then I realized I was paying close to $500 a night to camp in a hotel.)

Personally, I expected the trip to have a little yin and yang—this is what happens when you travel with two humans under the age of 6. Still, I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t at least a little surprised by just how much yang there was on this particular adventure, especially considering how well the kids did on our last major adventure in London.

Overall, the experience was a perfect reminder of what family travel really is—beautiful, frustrating, exhilarating, and exhausting. Yes, there were low points. But there also were high points, and all it takes is one of those to make a memory that can last a lifetime for any of us.