I didn’t have a date to the prom in high school.  It was very nearly 20 years ago at this point, and it still bugs me.  I went anyway, and I had a great time.  But, every so often, I think about it, and it gets to me.

When I was home over the summer, I mentioned this to my brother, Peter, who looked at me like I had sprouted a second head and said, “WHAT are you talking about.  Look how great your life is turning out.  Don’t even talk about something like that.”

And, he’s absolutely right.  My life is fantastic.  I have two beautiful, amazing, healthy, happy children.  I live in Europe.  We travel.  I have a loving, hard-working husband who takes wonderful care of our children and who supports me in staying home to be with the kids.  I have a wonderful, loving, kind, generous, super fantastic family who I miss terribly.  I may have the world’s best dog.  I have amazing, loving friends on both sides of the ocean.  We have everything we need and many things that we want.  I have never, ever had to worry about whether or not my kids will have food to eat, gifts to open on Christmas morning or a safe place to sleep.  (And HOW have I wasted even one minute of my energy thinking about my lack of a prom date?!?)

Yesterday, I went out to shop for Liam’s birthday (which is tomorrow) and the process of selecting and purchasing gifts for him was blissfully fun and free from stress or worry.  I walked out of the store, so grateful for the ability to do something like that for him, and truly aware of all of the blessings I have in my life that make it possible.

I am so lucky.  I am so fortunate.  My life is so very good.  I will remember to appreciate all of it.  (And if anyone catches me griping about the prom, please remind me that I’m being ridiculous.)

Back in the days before kids, I remember one Christmas where our whole family was going away for the holidays together.  The inn where we were staying generally had a “no kids” policy, which they were willing to bend for us because we were renting out two entire guest houses (over 50% of the whole property) but they initially said that my little sister, who was probably about 3 at the time, wouldn’t be able to join us for breakfast in the main dining room.  I thought that was taking a policy a little too far, but, at the time, it didn’t really phase me.  I advocated for staying there anyway, and “working something out”, which in the end, didn’t have to happen because they ended up relaxing their policy and letting us all eat together in the dining room.

In retrospect, I don’t know what I was thinking.  It’s fine for hotels to have a “no children” policy (although I think it’s a foolish stance) but really, if they were making it clear that our family wasn’t going to be comfortably accommodated in their establishment, we should have made arrangements to stay elsewhere.  (As it was, we had a lovely holiday, kids and all.)

We’ve occasionally run in to similar hotel policies as we plan our various trips around Europe.  It seems to happen in specific communities, where, I suppose, most of the clientele is seeking a quiet weekend away.  Most of the time, a hotel will state very clearly on their website (or third party booking site) that children under whatever age aren’t permitted.  I don’t really get it.  I know, kids can be messy, and sometimes a little destructive, and sometimes make noise late at night, but so can many adults.  I’d imagine that restricting the ages of your guests would probably do more to turn business away than to attract customers.  I suspect there are more families looking for a fun weekend away than there are fuddy duddies thinking, “Oh, if they allow kids then we CAN’T stay there!”  Of course, every time we see such a policy, we choose another place to stay, and I always make sure when I’m booking a room to make sure I specify the ages of our children, rather than just saying “we have 2 kids”, just to be clear.  And although I don’t agree with their policies, it’s their place to rent as they see fit, and if they don’t want kids, then we certainly don’t want to stay there.

But the ones that really get under my skin are the ones that *don’t* come right out and state that children aren’t welcome.  They’re the ones that will list, in detail, every amenity (including a list of languages the owner speaks fluently) and every other restriction possible (no pets, no smoking, no stays less than 2 nights on a holiday weekend, no American Express) but won’t say a thing about children.  Then you email them, or you make an online reservation, and the excuses start.

We’ve starting looking for places to stay for our next trip (to Germany) and after enquiring about an apartment the other day, I got an email back which included this:

“I am very sorry to let you know that our apartments are not designed/safe for young children (e.g. lots of low-lying sockets). We therefore also neither offer cots nor high chairs.”

Really?  Your place isn’t suitable for children because of low-lying sockets?!?  You know, my kids have managed low-lying sockets on two continents and in at least 5 countries and never had an issue.  And, thank you very much, we didn’t ask for a baby cot or a high chair.  But, I get the message — you don’t want kids (at least not kids as young as mine) staying at your place.  (This place even lists a “playground” and a “zoo” as nearby attractions on their online listing.  Who is that intended for?)

It’s not that big of a deal.  Truly.  But there’s something that gets under my skin about their failure to own their policy and opinion.  I know it’s common to see people who won’t own up to a potentially unpopular opinion, so they pretend not to have one while creating roadblocks to other options and making feeble excuses as to why things ought to go a particular way.  (I know several people like this, and it can come up with things as simple about what kind of pizza we’re ordering for dinner.  It’s enough to make me crazy until I figure out they’re pushing an agenda that they just don’t want to share with everyone else.)  I wish they’d just state how they felt.  There’s something extra galling about turning someone away, and somehow justifying it as their fault, rather than admitting you just don’t want them.

I’d never make my kids stay somewhere that I felt they weren’t warmly welcomed, so we found another place to stay.  But we love to find great places, share them with our friends, and then return in the future.  These unfriendly places are the ones that are missing out.

We watch a lot of tv in this house.  Most days, it’s significantly more than the recommended daily dose (I forgot a long time ago what that number is, but I know we’re over it most days).  Some days, like today, when we’re all in need of some rest and recuperation (since we jumped straight from our 2+ week marathon UK trip back in to work and school without a break, and since we all seem to be coming down with a cold) it’s way worse than that.

I know, I’m probably rotting my children’s brains and all that, but although we watch a lot of tv, I’m incredibly picky about what my kids watch.  I do use the tv too often to entertain them when I need to get something done (or when I need 15 minutes to not be “on” quite so intensely) but I always try to make sure that they’re watching something that a) they’re going to potentially learn something from and b) is in keeping with our basic household ethical code.  I’m astonished when I come across tv shows geared for little kids that don’t make the cut (we’re not THAT picky) and even more amazed at how popular those shows seem to be.

My threshold for “hopefully they might learn something from this” is incredibly low.  I’m happy to have them potentially learn basic math concepts, letters, how to share, colors or conflict resolution.  Most children’s programming seems to hit on at least one of these ideas.  But so often, the characters in the shows behave rudely, dangerously, or unkindly with no consequences shown.  Watching Ruby (who is maybe 8?) put Max (who is maybe 2?) in the bathtub, and then leave him there is only topped by her sending him outside to play alone, or to wait by the bus stop alone, while she accomplishes something else.  Seeing older characters exclude younger ones, without any lesson on inclusion and kindness, is just setting a bad example.  And seeing any kind of meanness or teasing that goes uncorrected would just be putting bad ideas into my kid’s heads.

And then there’s the gender roles!  If I watch Daisy Duck bat her eyelashes at Donald one more time, I’m going to freak out.  The episode of Max & Ruby where Ruby and her friend get all worked up about impressing a boy makes me want to scream.  Just watching the opening of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is horrifying to me in terms of the images and ideas it puts forth about “girl behavior” — if I wouldn’t let a daughter of mine watch it (and I wouldn’t, if I had one) then my sons can’t watch it either.

I’m sure my reckless use of the television as a babysitter for my kids is as incomprehensible to some parents as it is to me that people let their kids watch this stuff.  But, I can understand that.  I don’t understand why this stuff is still on tv, and why people plop their kids down in front of it.  If we’re grateful that Kai Lan teaches them a little Chinese and that Team Umizoomi teaches them shapes and counting, then how can we be surprised then they learn less desirable things by watching girls flirt to get what they want or siblings being unkind to each other?

Packing for a trip, especially one with kids and most particularly a long trip with kids, is a pretty personal thing.  What works for one family, or even for one child within that family, wouldn’t work at all for another.

That said, we’ve done this a lot at this point, and I think our packing ideas have evolved a bit.  In our family, I do the majority of the packing.  I select and organize the items for the family (the only exception is that Dan chooses his own clothes and any toiletries that aren’t shared — i.e., I pack the toothpaste, but he packs his toothbrush) and then I put everything into the suitcases, selecting what goes in checked baggage versus carry-on, as well.

If I’ve developed an overall philosophy, it’s that less is more, except when it comes to clothes for the littlest travellers.  I try to be as minimalist as possible, but Liam, by far, brings along more clothes than the rest of us.  I generally feel like vacation is a time to stretch the idea of what “clean enough to be worn again” really means, but Liam’s still at that age where a single meal (or overfull diaper) can destroy an entire outfit to the point that it can’t be washed out adequeately in a sink, so I try to be prepared.

Keep in mind that probably 70% of the suitcase space we use is dedicated to the kids.  I can pack for the entire family in two small suitcases (the size that used to count as a carry-on, but no longer quite does), one carry-on sized backpack and two child size backpacks.  And that’s for a 2 week trip.  I could put all of my own stuff in a single small backpack, if I had to.

For this trip, I was particularly strict on our packing, since we were flying EasyJet, and they’re incredibly picky about number and size of carry-on items, as well as the weight of the checked baggage.

So, here’s what we brought:

packed in checked luggage:

• liquid ibuprofen for children
• antibiotic ointment
• baby soap (small, travel size)
• band-aids
• barrettes
• bibs (3)
• diaper cream (I used to put this in the carry-on, but it can be a hassle at security, and no one is going to develop a sudden diaper rash that can’t wait 3 or 4 hours to be treated, so I only put it in carry-on if there’s an existing case of diaper rash)
• jewelry for me (minimal)
• comb for the kids
• cord to connect the ipods to the tv (great for hotels with little or no cable)
• personal toiletries for me (deodorant, makeup — only a little, I can wear the same, neutral colors for a few days in a row, facial soap, face lotion with spf, shampoo, hand/body lotion, razor)
• diaper bag (didn’t want to use it for one of our carry-ons, so I actually took everything out and packed it in our suitcase)
• “doos” (Benjamin’s special lovey cloths, 2 — he’s past the point of typically asking for these, but I worry about the consequences if we didn’t have one and he wanted it, and they don’t take up much room, so it seems worth the space)
• floss
• gloves
• hairbrush (for me)
• hats (in this case, I went for warm ones, but in the summer, we do sun hats)
• hotel reservation info
• washcloth for kids (1, because some hotels don’t provide one)
• nail clippers (only if the trip is longer than 10 days or so, or if it’s been a while since I’ve done them when we leave)
• underwear (1 week worth)
• sweatpants/comfy pants (2 each)
• warm, cozy socks (1 pair each)
• 6 onesies for Liam (white, plain, short-sleeved — I wish I’d brought 10)
• pants (2 pair for me, 4 for the boys, including at least one that isn’t jeans, in case we decide to go someplace fancy . . . which has never actually happened)
• pack & play sheet (Liam is still small enough to use a portacrib, although we prefer for him to have a bed, but I bring the sheet along, just in case)
• pajamas (3 sets per kid, 2 for me)
• phone chargers
• power adapters
• rain boots (Dan & I wear our waterproof boots, since they’re so big to pack, but the kids wear their regular shoes and we pack their boots; we don’t always bring rain boots, either, depends on when/where we’re going)
• shoes (my and Dan’s regular shoes, the kids wear theirs — 1 pair each)
• rain coats
• shirts/tops (6 each, mix of long and short sleeves)
• socks (4 pairs per child, 7 pairs for me)
• sunscreen
• thermometer
• toothbrushes
• toothpastes (one for kids, one for adults)
• umbrella (1, small)

carry-on:

• wallet/credit cards/ATM cards/cash
• Aleve/ibuprofen for adults
• nose drops for children
• baby wipes (about 1 package worth, divided up between the 3 carry on bags, like diapers, we bought more as we needed them)
• light weight blanket (I actually brought a swaddling blanket from Liam’s younger days — it doesn’t take up a lot of room and will work to cover over a sleeping child, as a cushion for a diaper change, or as an impromptu diaper change screen)
• books for kids (4, small; we also bought 4 new books while in the UK)
• bottles with milk
• coloring books
• crayons
• diapers (only enough for the first 24-36 hours — we bought the rest as we went)
• earbuds for ipod
• fleece/sweatshirt (1 each)
• hand sanitizer (small enough for security check)
• ipad
• ipods (2, fully charged)
• lip balm
• stroller (gate checked)
• pacis (2, also 2 more in checked baggage)
• paper towels (about a dozen, folded up, stuck anywhere)
• passports
• phones (fully charged)
• rain cover for stroller (either attached to the stroller — ours has a snap-on bag — or in checked luggage)
• sippy cups (with water, which will probably have to be poured out at security and refilled, but I’m surprised at how often they haven’t seemed to care)
• snacks for flight
• sunglasses
• tickets/boarding passes/flight info
• toys (2 each, they get to choose but they have to fit into their carry-ons, and we also got each of the boys a few small things on our trip)
• ziploc bags (10-12, small ones are useful for messy diapers or leftover snacks, large ones are good for messy clothes)

I also pull out one outfit per child for the carry-ons, just in case they need a change during the trip and/or the luggage doesn’t make it to our destination along with us.  (This is all not counting Dan’s clothes and personal toiletries.)

This definitely requires either washing clothes at some point or rewearing stuff.  We did a little of both.  B, who tends to want to wear an outfit over and over until it’s socially unacceptable, didn’t go through half the clothes we brought for him.  I had to do Liam’s laundry twice.  I intentionally chose a place, midway through our trip, that had a washing machine, and then we made an additional unscheduled stop at a Dublin laundromat after the kids were both sick.

We’re still dialing it in, but we’ve come a long way.  We used to bring too much stuff, and a lot of it didn’t suit our purposes.  For the clothes, I’ve found dark colors are best, as well as fabrics that will tolerate a variety of washing conditions and that won’t look awful if they’re hung to dry (washers are rare on vacation, and driers are rarer).

The one thing that I always forget and regret not having — a pen!

We’ve come a long way in a year.  Today was Benjamin’s first day of his second year of school.  (He started preschool at the beginning of September last year, but we missed the actual anniversary since we were in England at the time.)  The first nervous day was followed by the tear-filled first week, which was followed by months of uncertainty about whether or not this was the right school for him (or if he should even be in school at all).

Last night, at bedtime, the kids were completely exhausted, and I suspected that they’d sleep late this morning and B would just end up missing school today.  That’s what usually happens when we get back from vacation, but not today.  This morning, he was up, bright and early.  And, he was more eager than he has ever been before to get to school.  All throughout breakfast and the rest of our morning routine, he kept asking, “Can we leave NOW?!?”  He was actually impatient to get to school.  I couldn’t believe it.

He went, he played dragons, knights, kings and queens with his friends, he raced around the garden and he had a great day.  I am so thrilled at how far we’ve come since a year ago . . . and I’m so glad we stuck it out through all of the uncertainty.  This will be B’s last year of preschool.  It’s his last year of getting to go to school mostly to play, and to make friends, and to get used to the idea of being in school.  (This is also our last year of vacationing in September, our last year without back to school shopping, our last year of not having to get a child to school at a rigidly particular time.)  I’m really happy that it seems like he may really get to enjoy it.

We did it.  We’re all set.  Our bags are packed, we’re ready to go.  I can’t believe how quickly and easily this trip came together — this time last week, I had a sketched-out itinerary on a calendar and a couple of travel guidebooks and nothing else.  No plane tickets, no hotel reservations, no concrete idea of how long we’d stay in each place or how we’d get there.

Since then, the whole trip has come together beautifully — 17 days, 10 cities, 4 flights, 3 countries, 2 car rentals — and 0 meltdowns from me while planning.  I was able to fit in almost everything we wanted to do, found some beautiful places for us to stay and to visit (and even found a couple of good deals).  I’ve researched the best places to eat in each town we’re staying in, some nice scenic places to stop and stretch our legs during the long drives, and I know how to get from the airport to the hotel tomorrow, whether or not I have access to the internet when we land.  All of our stuff for the trip is packed into 2 small-ish suitcases and 3 small carry-ons (the airline we’re flying is very strict about baggage allowances — much more so than US carriers).  We have a mid-afternoon flight tomorrow, so we can finish up our packing in the morning AND take showers before we have to leave, and with a little luck, the kids will sleep for at least part of the short (2+ hour) flight.

This all seems a little TOO easy.

Really, though, I think we just have a lot of practice at this.  We travel all the time.  Liam has, on average, taken a transatlantic flight once for every four months he’s been alive.  I can pack our collective carry-ons in about 10 minutes.  The kids know what to expect (although B seems completely out of sorts about the fact that we’re flying in the afternoon and not first thing in the morning, which has been our norm from Vienna).  I’ve gotten really skilled at selecting clothes that are easily adjustable to different weather conditions, won’t show dirt too quickly and can be washed in a hotel sink and laid out to dry without being ruined.  (I also — very cleverly, I think — made sure that the hotel at our halfway point of the trip has a washing machine, so we only packed 1 week’s worth of clothes.)

I think, too, that I’m seeing the effect of having trained myself to not strive for perfection in the details of a trip like this.  We might forget something.  We might not have everything we need.  Our hotels might not be the nicest, or in the perfect location, or at the best price (but I tried to hit at least 2 out of those 3 each time).  We are probably going to wish we brought more of something or less of something or that we stayed longer in one place and skipped another altogether.  That’s almost certain to happen.  We’ve never been to the UK before, so how could we know exactly what it would be like in advance, anyway?  We’ll learn, we’ll do things differently next time.

But, most importantly, I am not so worn down by exhausting myself over every tiny detail of this trip that I don’t have the energy left to enjoy it.  I’m not stretched so thin that I’m going to snap at the kids or burst into tears when faced with the first frustration or the first bout of whining.

I’m sitting here, the night before we leave for a long trip that I planned in less than 5 days, and I’m doing great.  No stress, no worries.  My kids are sleeping.  My stuff is organized.  The plans have been made.  We’re ready to go.  This feels great.