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Family travel inspiration from the Mendocino Coast

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It's good now; it'll be even better in 2020.

It’s good now; it’ll be even better in 2020.

Most of the time, family travel is all about the ins and outs of traveling with the kids. Other times, it’s about family-oriented epiphanies, observations, and/or discoveries when traveling while the kids are back at home.

This past weekend, Powerwoman and I were lucky enough to experience the latter form of family travel. The two of us were traveling solo—my mother-in-law was watching the girls—as part of our annual unplugged and tech-free trip. We were staying just north of Fort Bragg at the Inn at Newport Ranch, a breathtaking new spot on the Mendocino Coast. And we had dinner with some wonderful people on the first night.

Our hosts, Creighton and Cindi Smith, are the innkeepers at Newport Ranch; they’re the ones who prepared the meal. In addition to us, they invited two of their friends, Guy and Sarah Pacurar.

Guy and Sarah are innkeepers, too—they own the Brewery Gulch Inn, another great spot on the Mendo County coast, much closer to Mendocino. When Guy and Sarah aren’t running their inn, they run a fledgling winery.

This is where the family part comes in. You see, the name of Guy and Sarah’s winery is Fathers & Daughters. Guy named it after his two daughters. Since Sarah’s father owns the vineyard in which the winery’s grapes are grown, Guy also named the endeavor after his father-in-law. Do the math: The label celebrates two fathers and three daughters.

You can’t get much more family-oriented than that.

I admit, I’m a sucker for the whole daddy/daughter story; I’ve got two daughters now and will have three of them by the time I turn 40 later this year. Still—the story behind Fathers & Daughters is a juicy one (pardon the pun). And the wine is great, too.

We tasted the 2012 Ella’s Reserve Pinot Noir; a bright, fragrant and complex pinot made with some of my favorite clones (I won’t get too wine geeky here, I promise). I’d describe the wine as being light and full-bodied at the same time (the tasting notes use the phrase, “lean and lush”). Most important, the wine is named after Guy and Sarah’s daughter, Ella.

While I like the wine itself, the family connection is what I like best about this brand. And that doesn’t surprise me at all. Even when we’re not on a “family vacation,” we can be inspired by family-oriented experiences on the road. Even when we’re not traveling with our girls, they’re with us when we go.

Once a family traveler, always a family traveler, I guess. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Family time, unplugged

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I unplug to escape stuff like this. (Me! In Times Square!)

I unplug to escape stuff like this. (Me! In Times Square!)

As a freelance writer, I have to stay connected most of the time. My business depends on it—if I miss an email from an editor, I might miss out on a potential assignment, which means missing out on cold cash.

Generally speaking, I don’t mind this constant state of connectedness. It enables me to stay on top of trends, and to build my brand as a family travel blogger by posting Instagram pictures and other social media missives when we travel as a clan.

Still, every now and again, it’s nice to take a trip on which I’m completely unplugged.

Powerwoman and I try to take one such trip every year. For better or for worse, these tech-free trips usually happen when the two of us have the opportunity to steal away together, without the girls. In fact, we leave later today for four days of disconnected bliss on the Mendocino County coast (which is about three hours from our home).

The plan for these trips is pretty simple: Keep me away from technology at all costs. No Facebooking. No Tweeting. No Instagramming. And almost certainly no email.

Of course going away without the children necessitates a certain degree of connectivity; my mother-in-law, who’s watching the girls back at our place, needs to be able to reach us in case of an emergency. What’s more, Powerwoman often brings her phone so the two of us have at least one camera to document great places and fun times.

Still, for me, these trips are glorious. Because I get to just be in the moment. Every moment. All day long.

Preparing for our tech-free vacations always reminds me just how dependent on technology we’ve become. It also inspires me to try to be more tech-free in my everyday life. Especially when I’m with the kids: Do I really need to check my phone every time the damn thing vibrates or sends me a notification?

Of course the answer is no. And of course it will be far more difficult to ask and answer that question one month from now, when this unplugged vacation is long over and I’m back in the thick of life. Still, the question itself is a good one. And the self-examination it inspires almost always leads to more self-awareness, and at least the recognition that I could and must be better.

The bottom line: We all could stand to ditch some technology. I challenge you to take the same break in your life and evaluate the consequences. Big changes take time. This one’s worth waiting for.

Sucker for the midway

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Yours truly. With an emu. On the carousel.

Yours truly. With an emu. On the carousel.

My name is Matt Villano and I’m a sucker for a carnival midway.

I’ve been a midway maniac for most of my life. I play games. Lots of games. I’ve never seen a ping-pong-ball-in-the-goldfish-bowl game I didn’t like. I can’t whack enough moles. I love shooting water into a clown’s mouth. And I wholeheartedly embrace the challenge of knocking down three milk jugs with one bean bag.

I chose this forum in which to come clean because, well, attending carnivals always is better with kids. And because the county fair has been going now for the last two weeks. And because I just went with my kids and their two cousins.

You read that right, people: This year I hit up our local county fair solo, in charge of four kids between the ages of 3 and 14.

I like to think of the experience as EXTREME FAMILY TRAVEL: One almost-40 dad and four kids brave 100-degree temperatures to go on rides, pump their veins full of sugar and shoot baskets until their wrists fall off.

We took a wagon for my girls. We alternated between little-kid rides and big-kid rides. And—of course—we snuck in dozens and dozens of games. We won a few fish. We won 19 stuffed animals. We even won some silly little necklace.

Along the way, I taught L and R how to bash rubber frogs from catapults and on to lily pads. I gave my niece and nephew a crash course in fair food (Lobster Corn Dog 1, Niece & Nephew 0).

Oh, and I must have spent like $500 in an afternoon (seriously).

Still, IT WAS THE FAIR, which means, it was a blast. Some traveling parents may strive to avoid these types of chaotic environments like the plague. I, for one, embrace them wholeheartedly. Whether I’m 30 minutes away from home or 3,000 miles away from the nearest national border, if there’s a carnival midway, I’ll be there. Experiencing it all with my kids makes the fun even better. Which is precisely why I don’t plan to break this addiction any time soon.

Lessons from Maine: Don’t be an asshole family traveler

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Good for you, Marcy's.

Good for you, Marcy’s.

By now you probably have read about the diner owner in Portland, Maine, who screamed at a mom and dad for not quieting their crying toddler while the family dined in her restaurant this past weekend. You might have read some high-level etiquette theory about who was right, who was wrong, and what might prompt someone to go berserk under these circumstances. Maybe you even read the mother’s response.

My take: Though the restaurant owner seems like a bit of a loose cannon, the parents in question also behaved badly, and as parents, we really shouldn’t be assholes when we are dining with our kids away from home.

You read that right, folks. I’m saying I support the rabid restaurateur.

Could the restaurant owner have been a bit less crass in her tirade? Of course. Am I cool with the fact that the restaurant owner directed some of her vituperation at the 21-month-old herself? Not at all. Generally speaking, however, I think the diner gal was totally right for going off on these negligent parents, and think the vacationing parents were totally in the wrong.

I mean, the facts almost speak for themselves. The child screamed incessantly FOR 40 MINUTES and the parents didn’t even try to take the kid outside. The owner gave the family to-go boxes and asked them to take off. It was at that point, with the kid still crying, the owner went Andrew Dice Clay.

(UPDATE: Some reports suggest the child cried for only FOUR minutes. To me, the duration of the episode is irrelevant; after about 30 seconds of crying the parents should have had the kid outside.)

What’s more, the mom said she didn’t want to take her child outside because it was raining.

Again, I don’t condone cursing at kids. But I certainly understand the restaurateur’s frustration. Reports indicate there were more than 70 other diners in the restaurant at that time. Crying babies are loud. Other patrons were getting annoyed. Somebody had to do something.

So what if it was raining. Didn’t the family have a rental car? If so, that would have been a great enclosed and confined space in which the child could have cried it out. If not, surely there were awnings or vestibules of nearby businesses that would have proved worthy shelters to shield the shrieking child from the rain.

In short, I believe, the parents completely failed in their responsibilities as traveling parents who had taken a baby out to eat.

These duties aren’t complicated. They involve three basic rules: 1) Pay attention to your kid, 2) Try to keep your kid happy, and 3) Remove your kid from the situation if the kid can’t deal. According to eyewitness reports, these parents failed in each and every one of these cases.

When dining out with kids—whether you’re vacationing or not—it’s up to us traveling parents to make good choices and take responsibility for our children’s behavior, no matter what the circumstances. In this case, on that fateful Saturday in Maine, IMHO these particular parents acted like assholes and got what they deserved. Let the story be a lesson to all of us. Don’t be like these parents on your travels. Ever.

Travel memory: Learning to talk on Kauai

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Years later, our beach babe still loves the crashing surf.

Years later, our beach babe still loves the crashing surf.

A recent conversation with a friend about vacationing on Kauai (in Hawaii) reminded me of one of our first milestone family trips: A vacation in 2010 during which L spoke for the first time.

The three of us—R hadn’t even been conceived yet—stayed for a week in Poipu at the Villas at Poipu Kai, a wonderful property of furnished vacation rentals near Brennecke Beach. Those were the days before this blog; at the time I was keeping a different blog titled, The Daddy Dispatch (someday, I’ll re-publish those old posts). That said, this particular trip was of the unplugged variety; I happily didn’t write anything while we were there.

That didn’t stop important stuff from happening.

At the time L was about 13 months old, and she hadn’t said much more than, “Mom,” and “Dada.” We were just starting to wonder when she’d say her first real word. Then, one day, on the beach, it just came out: “A-gain! A-gain! A-gain!”

She was talking to the ocean, of course. The waves, specifically. She loved the way they came in and lapped at her tiny feet. She was ordering the ripples to continue.

Again and again, the kid screamed, “Again!”

At first, neither Powerwoman nor I knew quite how to react—we found ourselves somewhere between joy and did-she-really-just-say-that? After about 12 or so repetitions, we started cheering and crying and clapping and doing all the stuff that first-time parents do at a milestone of this nature. “Again” became the theme of the trip; everywhere we went, we did things two or three times, just so we could hear our first child ask us to do them again.

Looking back on that day, travel is an integral part of this cherished memory. Would we remember the accomplishment if L had said, “Again!” here at home? Of course. But the fact that she said it there in Hawaii, commanding the cerulean sea, makes everything about the experience more vivid.

That vibrancy, that extra detail, makes the memory even more special. That we experienced it on a family trip adds panache to an incident we’ll treasure for the rest of our lives.

What developmental milestones have your kids achieved while traveling?

Tinkle practice

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Calm before the accident.

Calm before the accident.

Like most girls, L and R are *huge* fans of the Disney movie, Frozen, and they love the line in the song, “Fixer Upper,” about going “tinkle in the woods.” In practice, however, the kids actually are quite terrible at actually going tinkle in the woods. And they’re not getting better any time soon.

Powerwoman and I were reminded of this on two consecutive outings this week.

R’s bladder failure happened first, after an ill-advised cup of milk and an unexpectedly long beachcombing trip along Orcas Island’s Crescent Beach. One minute we were plodding along the shoreline looking for beach glass, the next minute, she announced she had to pee, pulled down her pants, squatted to go, and peed all over herself.

L’s tinkle-castrophe occurred the following day while we were watching whales (we did a lot of that). This scene played out in similar fashion: Sudden need to urinate, pants at the ankles, and a valiant squat attempt, followed by soaked flip-flops and undies.

In R’s case, the issue was inexperience; because she’s only freestyled once before, she doesn’t really know how to do it. L’s case, the culprit simply was stubbornness. The child thinks she is the Serena Williams of pee-holding; instead of forcing her to recognize her own limits, we have decided to let her learn them on her own.

Together both experiences reminded Powerwoman and me of an underappreciated family travel truth: Even a little pee versatility can go a long way.

How will this epiphany change our travel practices? In the immediate future, I’m guessing, not that much. Down the road, however, especially before our next big road trip, you better believe my wife and I will work with the kids to help them get better at tinkling in the woods.

I’m sure the path to enlightenment will be rocky. I’m sure we’ll wet a lot of shorts along the way.

Ultimately, of course, the goal is to empower our daughters to go with ease, whenever and wherever they feel they need to go. To paraphrase the famous World Cup slogan: I believe that they will pee.

A case for patience on the family trip

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The scene before the storm (and the Orcas).

The scene before the storm (and the Orcas).

We came. We saw. We weathered one of the biggest tantrums of 2015. And we experienced magic.

There’s really no other way to describe tonight’s experience at Lime Kiln Point State Park here on the San Juan Islands. The outing had it all: Smiles, tears, shrieks of terror, and screams of joy.

In the end, the experience was a classic case study about the yin and yang of family travel, a picture-perfect snapshot of how bad can become good, a fitting demonstration of why we moms and dads must practice patience above all else.

The night began around 4:30 p.m., when Powerwoman and I decided it might be fun to pack a picnic dinner and head to the park for a little whale-watching. This spot, on the west side of San Juan island along Haro Strait, is renowned as one of the best places in the islands to see Orcas from shore. We had heard reports of whales on that side of the island and thought we might get lucky.

We packed a dinner. We drove to the park. We got to the trailhead. We started hiking. For the first few minutes, everyone was happy. R was singing. L was counting clouds.

Then, at the picnic table, as we broke out our meal, disaster struck: BEES! HARASSING US!

My wife and I didn’t mind the little buggers. The girls, however, FREAKED OUT. R started flailing her arms and moaning. L started crying uncontrollably and shrieking like a banshee. Just as Powerwoman and I started contemplating pulling the rip cord and heading back toward the car, the whales arrived.

In that moment, we were faced with a dilemma: Flee the situation to pacify the children or stick it out to pursue our objective of seeing whales? After much deliberation, we decided to stick it out.

The moments that immediately followed that decision were horrendous. L’s anxiety prompted blood-curdling screams—shouts so loud some onlookers wondered if they should call the cops. R, in an attempt to flee a nagging bee, lost a flip-flip into the ocean (thankfully I was able to retrieve it without injuring myself).

Gradually, however, once we put the food away, the bees stopped swarming, and the girls’ terror dissipated, too. As the kids calmed down, more whales came. And more. And more after those. Some surfaced no more than 30 feet from where we were sitting.

After about 30 minutes of whale crossing, it became clear we were witnessing something pretty rare: An entire pod of Orcas passing by “together.”

In response to this spectacle, the kids’ moods changed completely. Instead of yelping in terror, they were cheering for more whales. Instead of yelling, “Bees!” they exclaimed, “Another dorsal fin!” every time one surfaced in front of us. Instead of insisting that we go home, they were begging us to stick around for more.

When we finally did leave, in the car on the way home, the “whale show” (as they called it) was all they wanted to talk about. The incredible sighting made us grown-ups forget all about the bee incident, too. It was as if the bad stuff never happened.

The lesson? When traveling with little ones, sometimes a little heaven is worth a whole lot of hell.

I’m not suggesting parents turn deaf ears to miserable kids and subject their children to hours of horrendous conditions every day. I am, however, saying that every now and again, we moms and dads might be rewarded for practicing patience in particularly taxing situations.

Identifying those situations isn’t easy; heck, they’re probably going to be different for every family. But when you do manage to stick ‘em out, persevering can have its benefits—for everyone involved.

You can go back again, with family

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I call this, "Orca Window."

I call this, “Orca Window.”

I was hunched over the sink washing dinner dishes when I saw them through the kitchen window—first the telltale blows, then black triangle-shaped dorsal fins rising from the surface of the water.

“Orcas! Orcas!” I screamed. “Girls, get out here! There are orcas!”

This was the moment I had dreamed about, the very instant when my kids would see the namesake animals of this blog and come face-to-face with the marine mammals that had eluded me for the first 24 years of my time on Earth. Put simply, this was why we had come to the San Juan Islands in the first place: To see these very whales.

It took a few minutes for L and R to understand and appreciate the gravity of the situation. First they couldn’t see the whales from the living room of our vacation rental. Then they complained about how “small” the animals appeared. Only after I pointed out a baby did they start to come around.

And come around they did. They sang songs about the Orcas. They vocalized like Orcas. They pretended to be Orcas and chased each other around the living room. They requested Kindle books about ‘em, too. (Subsequently, they have asked to go to the local whale museum so they can learn even more.)

The San Juans have represented a special place for me since 1999. That summer, after a few years of living in the concrete jungle of Manhattan, I decided I needed to experience some open space. I never had seen Orcas in the wild, and knew there were some resident populations of the whales out here in the Pacific Northwest. So I bought a plane ticket to Seattle and a passenger ferry ticket to Friday Harbor. And I improvised the rest.

Over the course of two weeks that first summer, I lived in my tent and worked off my cell phone and a laptop from a coffee shop. I also kayaked a ton and saw literally hundreds of Orcas. The next summer, I came back for three weeks and did the same stuff. In the summer of 2001, I came again (that time with friends).

That middle summer, after one of the most intense animal encounters of my life, I vowed to bring my family here someday, and promised to make sure my kids wouldn’t wait as long as I did to see Orcas in the wild.

Which is what brought us here this year. It’s also what prompted us to rent this house—the house sits along the southern tip of the Island with a commanding view of the confluence of Juan de Fuca and Haro straits. I knew this was a spot where we’d be able to see whales without getting in a whale-watch boat. I was right.

We’ll be on the Island for a grand total of 13 days, and, already, the kids (and Powerwoman, for that matter) are saying they never want to leave. Whales! Beaches! Lakes! Mountains! This place has it all.

For me, however, San Juan Island has something even more meaningful: Memories. I forged the first set here at a time in my life when I was totally alone. Now that I’m back on the islands surrounded by family, I get the opportunity to make new ones with the people I love most in the world. I can’t think of a better gift for any of us.

Managing siblings on a family road trip

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peaceful parentSummer’s almost upon us, which means it’s time (at least in our family) for road-trips. In families with siblings—again, like ours—long hours in the car often mean yelling, whining, arguing, and fighting for the kids. This, in turn, means headaches, exasperation, and a need for Chardonnay for the grownups.

Thankfully, Dr. Laura Markham has some advice. Markham, a child psychologist, also is author of Peaceful Parent, Happy Siblings: How to Stop the Fighting and Raise Friends for Life (Perigee; May 2015). She has an action plan for parents dealing with bickering kids in the backseat. I caught up with her recently to discuss some of these tips.

MJV: Why is it that road trips seem to bring out tension among siblings?

Laura Markham (LM): You need to recognize that everybody is out of their comfort zone when you’re on the road. Everybody is prone to being a little more irritable. It’s not the regular routine. People are having to accommodate needs of other people in the family more than they have to do normally. If we start from that premise, we have to have more patience. It will be better for everyone.

MJV: What can parents do ahead of time to prepare the kids for how different it will be?

LM: Talk about the trip, for starters. It’s so exciting! Tell them you’ll be stopping along the way. Ask them what sorts of things they’d like to see. Whether it’s a big thing like Niagara Falls or a little thing like a park you find on the map. Have the conversation before you ever get in the car, and talk about what it’s going to be like in the car. That will help prepare them for what’s coming.

MJV: To what extent should parents communicate with the kids about their concerns regarding the trip?

LM: It’s a good idea to ask if anybody is worried about the car trip. One kid may say he’s worried he’ll get carsick. Another might say she’s worried sister will always get to listen to her music, or that she’ll get bored. This process is important because you’re bringing some consciousness to it so the kids can understand this is something from which they can learn.

MJV: How should parents adapt their roles or discipline strategies on the road?

LM: The parent can see him or herself as a facilitator of kids learning the skills to live together and work things out in a civil way and express their needs without hurting another person. You can’t expect kids to be perfect at this, that’s why they practice.

MJV: At the first sign of discord in the backseat, what should you do?

LM: Try to get your kids laughing by saying something ridiculous.  Make yourself the object of the humor, so they’re not laughing at each other. This also helps your children work through the universal fear that they themselves might get laughed at.

MJV: What if the kids use hands on each other?

LM: Stop the car. You can’t drive safely when the kids are screaming or hitting and you’re upset. You don’t have to say a word. Just pull the car off at the next exit, pull off safely onto the shoulder, turn off the car, and regain your composure. Then, intervene as calmly as you can to set limits, connect, and defuse the tension.

MJV: Any other tips for parents embarking on road trips with their kids this summer?

LM: Calm yourself. The kids are going to act up; if you stay calm, they’ll calm down more quickly. Also, remember to listen to the right things. If you pay attention to kids’ needs and emotions and respond to those instead of trying to respond with punishment, it will make a huge difference. Let them feel like you’re hearing them. Making them feel like you understand them. That will help them calm down and re-engage in a more productive way. That means a better trip for everyone.

Puke on the family trip

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A calm scene before Retch No. 5

A calm scene before Retch No. 5

When we booked this family vacation to Los Angeles, it was supposed to be about togetherness, birthday celebrations, and outfitter-driven activities for all ages (available through my client, Expedia). So far, however, the trip largely has been about something entirely different: puke.

As in, vomit, throm, throw-up, retch.

All of the puke has come from poor little R; she caught a flu bug from her sister the day before we left, and somehow has managed to throw up at least—I stress, at least—once a day every day of the visit. (Lucky for us, she didn’t actually throw up on our transit day, but she did poop her pants on the plane, due in part to bad diarrhea.)

Today’s episode was by far the most dramatic. After a wonderful day celebrating L’s birthday at the Huntington Library, Art Collections, and Botanical Gardens, we got back to the hotel and handed the car to the valet guys just in time for poor R to throm all over the porte cochere.

Both Powerwoman and I can handle the smell and cleanup of vom on the road—we both like to drink, and L puked a bunch when she was younger so we’ve had plenty of practice.

That said, what remains difficult about vom management are basic logistics. Who stays back at the hotel with sick child? How long can the free parent be free before trapped spouse starts to feel antsy? What in the hell do you feed a sick kid on the road when everything requires effort to obtain?

Another challenge: Persevering in the face of awkwardness with restaurant staffers after your kid throws up in a booth during breakfast and it takes the crew 15 minutes to respond with a mop. (Fellow traveling parents, I would have cleaned it up with individual wipes but the host wouldn’t let me! Also, um, ewwwww.)

Perhaps the biggest challenge is dealing with the sick child directly. She’s whiney. She’s pathetic. She doesn’t want to move anywhere. And if your kid is anything like mine, she probably doesn’t want to be touched, either.

I’m not complaining here, I’m just saying the whole vacation-with-a-sick-kid is a different ball of wax.

My advice? Be ready to be flexible. Discuss a backup strategy with your traveling partners in advance, just in case. Be willing to eat a lot of room-service toast. Finally, remind yourself that sick kids on family trips are the exception, not the norm; as religious folks likes to say, this too shall pass.