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.

We are furiously busy with preparations for our trip to the UK.  There’s lots to do — our travel arrangements still aren’t done, plus there’s laundry, packing, and getting the house ready.  Things are starting to come together (which is good, since we’re running out of time) and I’m currently in the midst of the familiar process of planning which things will be packed in our checked suitcases and which will come in our carry-ons.

There’s definitely an art to this process.  We want to be prepared, but not overburdened.  We want to have enough toys and activities to keep the kids entertained without overwhelming them or packing so much that we lose track of what we have and end up leaving something important behind on the plane.  We want to make sure to pack the right things so that the trip goes smoothly and we don’t end up annoyed or exasperated by the very items we hoped would bring us some peace.

I’ve been reading advice, various places around the internet, about how to pack and plan for a successful air journey with little kids.  By and large, I’m left to assume that these authors have only a passing acquaintance with what a child looks like, let alone what it is actually like to travel with one.  In all seriousness, I find some of the suggestions ludicrous at best and dangerous at worst.  I think that many of these ideas were hatched in the comfort of a living room and never actually tested on actual children and actual planes.  Perhaps these writers travelled only with older children, and are extrapolating and imagining what it would be like to fly with infants, toddlers and preschoolers, or maybe they’ve only done short, 2-3 hour jaunts to Grandma’s house — and maybe only once.  (For us, this upcoming trip is a short one — less than 3 hours — but my advice is hard-won on much longer trips.)

To counteract some of the crazy that’s out there, I’m going to share what we do.  Our strategies have changed and evolved, but we’ve got 5 trans-atlantic journeys under our belts (not to mention nearly a dozen shorter trips).  We flew to Europe when Liam was only 6 months old, and we’ve traveled with Benjamin as a 4 year old.  I can’t speak to what works for outside of that age range, but I can tell you what’s worked for us so far.

First, talk to your kids about what to expect on the flight.  Preschoolers will be reassured by knowing what is going to happen, and toddlers understand more than we tend to expect.  (And “explaining” the process to an infant may help you, as the parent, think through the process and get your own thoughts in order.)  Explain about arriving at the airport, waiting patiently in the lines, what the security check will be like, how you’ll have to check some of your luggage, how the bags will go through the x-ray and you’ll all get to walk through the metal detector, too.  Explain about boarding the plane, finding your seats, whether you’ll get to eat meals, watch tv, sleep/nap, how long the flight is (even if they don’t understand time yet), that they’ll be able to have their diaper changed/use the potty.  Explain that there will be lines, they’ll have to be patient, but that it’ll also be fun to sit in the big airplane seat, have a snack and get to look out the window.  Focus on how great the destination will be, too — thinking about fun in the sun gets grown ups through grueling flight experiences, and it’ll help the kids, too.

I actually wrote a little book for Benjamin before our move to Austria.  I wanted him to understand how it was going to work, get some sense of the length of the flight (“We’re going to watch tv, eat dinner, and even sleep on the plane!”) and I didn’t want him to worry about our dog, who was travelling with us, or our luggage once we checked it.  Having it written down was helpful, because the story went exactly the same way each time, and the repetition of it, in the weeks leading up to our trip, seemed to reassure him.  Now that we’ve flown a lot with the kids, I don’t spend weeks preparing them — we start preparing them for the flight a few days ahead of time (when we say we’re taking a trip, they have a pretty good sense of what it means).  I try to play up the fun parts (movies and tv, snacks, visiting family or new sights once we arrive) and only briefly mention the length of the journey or the fact that we have a connecting flight, if we do (but I *do* mention it, because I don’t want them getting off the first plane and thinking that we’re done, only to be plopped back into another one — that seems like setting them up for disastrous tantrums).

As parents, we should do our best to be prepared ourselves.  We’ve found flight attendants to be generally very helpful with the kids and anything special we might need, but don’t expect to be able to monopolize their attention during boarding.  Boarding time is busy for them, so don’t send them back to the galley for water or milk (if the plane is even carrying milk — we’ve found they often only have cream) as soon as you’re settled.  Try to be prepared with the things you need for at least the first part of the flight.  Bring milk, water, crackers, etc. to get you through the first little bit.  (I know that technically, liquids aren’t allowed through security.  But, you can definitely fill up water bottles in the bathroom or at a water fountain before boarding.  And, we have been able to get milk, and even chocolate milk, through security EVERY TIME we’ve tried.  Explain that it’s important for the kids and that you need it for the flight.  Be willing to wait extra time for it to be specially screened.  Flying within Europe, we actually get MORE resistance to this than we do when we take off from the US, which is surprising to me.  Back when I was nursing and we’d take bottled breast milk through security, I was always ready to freak out and throw a fit if I needed to, but I never had to.)  If it’s a long flight and you need to have something refrigerated, just ask a flight attendant once you’re on board — they can usually find a place to put it — but remember to ask for it sometime other than when they’re in the middle of drink or dinner service.

Bring extra clothes for the kids and for yourself.  If you’re willing to overlook a little bit of spilled juice or dinner, you’ll probably never need them, but in case of illness or bathroom accident, you’ll be really glad you had them with you.  If you’re taking an overnight flight, bring pajamas for the kids, and change them into their sleeping clothes right after dinner.  It helps get them in the “this is sleep time” mode (even though their bodies tell them differently).  Keeping other routines as familiar as possible — obviously, bath time is out, but reading stories is a great idea — will help get them in the mood for a snooze, too.  I also think it’s a good idea to bring a light sweatshirt or jacket for the flight, just in case, although I find it’s more often too warm than too cold.

Of course, bring enough diapers and wipes for the flight (or extra underwear, pants and socks for those working on potty training).  In fact, bring twice as many as you think you’ll need.  Also bring small ziploc plastic bags for poopy diapers (usually wet ones can just go in the bathroom trash, but we’ve been asked to seal up poopy diapers and give them to the flight attendants so they can dispose of them elsewhere) and larger, gallon sized bags for icky, soiled clothes (that way, the rest of your carry on doesn’t have to suffer too badly).  Most airplane bathrooms have changing tables, although some are awkward to use, and none look very comfortable.  Bring a changing pad or a small towel you can put down on top of the surface.

I’ve read some weird advice on what to pack as carry-ons to keep the kids busy, too.  Wrap the toys in tin foil?  Bring puzzles or magnet toys?  The thought behind the tin foil is apparently for it to take the kid some time to unwrap the toy.  Well, maybe, but if it were me, and I was already tried and frustrated and cranky, and someone gave me something cool, but I had to struggle to get to it, I’d just be pissed.  Not to mention, I can imagine my kids eating or throwing the foil, and I *know* we’d all end up with little pieces in our clothes.  I don’t think anything with small pieces is a good idea — so puzzle and magnet toys are out.  Not only can they be a choking hazard, but even for older kids, it’s just asking for small pieces to get lost between the seats or down the seatback pockets (do YOU want to go digging down in there?) causing yet another opportunity for frustration from everyone.

We pack a few (2-3) toys for each child for each flight, plus 1-2 books each.  (We let the kids pick the toys they bring — anything that fits in their carry-on is allowed.)  Sometimes that includes 1 new thing that’s a surprise that they’ve never seen before.  Keep in mind that the nicer airlines will also usually give out toys to kids, but that they are NOT always age-appropriate, so try, if you can, to intercept them so you don’t have to take it away from your child if it isn’t safe.  (I love Austrian Airlines, but they insist on giving my toddler sharpened pencils on every flight and it’s a miracle no one has been hurt yet.)  We find that nothing is as popular as small electronics — we pack our iPods, phones and iPad with videos and games that are age appropriate for the kids.

And, at the end of the day, do what you can to be prepared for a good flight, but don’t worry too much about it.  If you travel with your kids, you will eventually end up as “those” parents with the screaming, inconsolable child.  Remember that however badly it goes, you’ll never see these people again, and you’re at least giving them a good story about what they went through to get where they’re going.  And a lot of them are parents, so they probably are more empathetic than judgemental.  In truth, most people are a lot more understanding and patient of a miserable child and their desparate parents than you’d expect.  (Not everyone, though.  Some people are awful.)

Benjamin got to go on a really fun trip today to the water park (more accurately, a water playground) here in Vienna.  I’d heard about this place, and I’d been meaning to take the kids, but being busy as we are, and being gone for the entire month of July, I just hadn’t gotten the chance.  It’s very close to Benjamin’s school — they were able to walk there.

We packed his backpack with a swimsuit, sun hat, sunscreen and a towel, and he was very cute headed off to school, ready for his adventure.  It sounds like they had a lot of fun.  He told us about playing on the bouncy bridge over the water, and about a boat they pulled across the water with a rope.  He held hands with his best friend most of the time, and the entire class had lunch and ice cream before they headed back to school.  Sounds like a great way to spend a very hot day in Vienna.  He had a great time.

I’m thrilled that he enjoyed himself.  He was so excited to go, and it made me really happy to see how enthusiastic he’s gotten about going on outings with his class.  But, at the same time, it was pretty stressful for me, as his mom.  I didn’t really know what to expect from this trip — I didn’t know what the park was like, what the teachers expectations were of him.  Just having a child in a school in a country where I don’t know what the default expectations are forces me to let go and accept that we aren’t going to get it right a lot of the time.  But when there’s an outing, it becomes worrisome.

I didn’t really know what to expect about this park (and the English-speaking teacher being on vacation made it really hard to find out).  I knew it was a water park, but what does that mean here?  Would there be rides?  Slides?  Swimming?  How deep would the water be?  Do most Austrian 4 year olds swim?  He can’t swim yet (but he thinks he can) so we made sure to explain to the teachers that he actually can’t.  And I always worry that he’ll get lost or get separated from the group.  I know that would be a worry for any child on any school trip, but it’s made worse by the fact that if he did get lost, he’d have trouble communicating his problem, and getting help, because of the language barrier.

Even after checking everything with the teachers and preparing him as best we could, I worried a lot today.  I’m a worrier.  I don’t know if it comes from the natural instinct I have to try to control everything, or if I just manage to possess both of those inconvenient companions, but put me in any situation, or propose to me any scenario, and I’ll always jump right to a worst case scenario.

(There are a few very limited situations in which this is helpful — I would never go on a day trip to the mountains, for example, without lots of water and warm clothes in my bag, becasue what if we got lost or stuck and had to spend the night exposed to the elements? — but mostly, my worry is something I have to fight off in order to live peacefully.)

In this case, as in almost every case, my worry was for nothing.  All went well, and he had a great time.  And, he was safe the whole time.  They always hold hands when they’re out in a group, and every time he went in any water deeper than his ankles, one of the teachers went with him and held his hand (even though I don’t think there was water more than knee deep for him anywhere).

It’s so hard for me to let go enough for him to do stuff like this, but I know it’s important.  I’m glad I don’t let my worrying get in the way of him having a good time.  I hope that I can diminish my degree of stress over this kind of thing as time goes on, but I doubt it.  I’ll get more used to it, as he gets bigger, but the stressers get will bigger, too.  For today, we did well.  B had a great time, and I let him — success all around.

Watching the Olympics last month made me restless.  It might seem ridiculous, but whenever I watch competition on that level, I wonder if I could have what it takes to do that — if I could, under any circumstances, compete at that level, in anything.  It’s not that I hold any illusions of actually doing it, but I wonder if I could.  And not necessarily something physical — could I devote enough of myself to ANY pursuit to be able to compete at the highest levels?

I certainly have the drive, the ability to be single-minded, the tendency to be obsessive about something when I decide I want to excel at it.  So, could I?  Do I have what it takes?

Maybe it’s an overdose of ego, but I think I could.  I think I could devote every waking moment, every ounce of energy, to a single goal.  I think I could sacrifice the idle things I want in pursuit of a dream.  I think I could become completely consumed by one purpose, and put it first.  I think I could.

So, why don’t I?  I’m good at a lot of stuff.  My chosen sport is one that people my age (and even older) excel in, so there’s still time.  I’m a good writer, with a certain amount of talent and some good ideas.  I could go after these things, in a real, determined way.  I could.

But, the truth is, I don’t want to.  I can’t be great at everything.  Time and energy are finite. Professional athletes, Olympians, actors, politicians, artists, writers — they all devote a lot of themselves — everything they have — to their pursuits.  And right now, I don’t want to give that much of myself.

I’ve chosen another path.  I want to be a world-class mom.

Being phenomenal at anything doesn’t happen in our spare time, it doesn’t happen in the moments left over from another passionate pursuit.  I don’t think I could be a world-class rider, writer, dancer, or whatever, and then come home and devote what was left of myself to being an amazing mom.  (Well, I think I could, but I don’t think it would work.)

I’m a professional mom.  I left my career to stay home and do this, full-time.  I think it’s important, and I’m excited to be able to do it every day.  I want to be great at it.  I don’t think I could be great at it, though, if I were devoting myself completely to being a world-class something else.  I need to passionately dedicate my energy to this if I want to get the results I’m hungry for.  (So many things suck that energy away: Facebook, tv, gossip, pastimes, games, anger/resentment.  Must work on that.)

If I want to be phenomenal in my chosen passion, I’m going to have to give that energy to my kids.  That’s what I want to be great at.  That’s what I want to be known for, more than anything else.  The audience is very small, but the reward is very great.

I feel like a woodland creature — the days have gotten just a bit shorter, a few leaves have started to turn, but it’s still 90+ degrees outside and very much summertime — and I’m already planning for winter.

Since I prefer to stock up on clothes (especially for the kids) from the US, I have to plan ahead.  (Well-made, relatively inexpensive clothes are much easier to come by at home — and living here has changed my definition of “relatively inexpensive”.  Shopping in Austria makes the stuff I buy from LL Bean seem like a bargain.)  Last year, I waited until it started to get cold (early October) to order clothes from the States, and we didn’t get the majority of our things until January.  It wasn’t very functional — we spent the first part of the winter trying to make do with clothes that didn’t quite fit and weren’t quite warm enough.

I’m not making the same mistake again:  I just finished ordering most of the boys’ clothes for the upcoming winter.  The few things I have left to buy I couldn’t get yet — because they aren’t selling them yet.  So, while at home, I would have scoffed at winter parkas and snow pants going on the racks in August, now here I am, frustrated that I can’t buy wool sweaters, fleece socks and cozy lined jeans for my kids.  I feel just like a squirrel storing away her acorns for the winter.