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One of the unexpected perks of the Covid-19 pandemic has been the lack of family vacations. You’d think I’d learned my lesson over the years, but being the eternal optimist, I often come up with these ideas. For our 25th wedding anniversary two years ago, I excitedly told my husband that I wanted to go to Europe—with the kids. We had just become empty-nesters, with our youngest heading off to college. I thought it might be one of the last times we’d all be together for a while since our schedules rarely aligned and our eldest preferred to spend his summers with his girlfriend. I convinced myself it would be fun. What was I thinking?
Looking back, I realize I should have crafted a detailed itinerary or at least some kind of tourist plan. However, my husband and I typically enjoy wandering aimlessly through new cities, taking in the sights as we go, and we didn’t make any concrete plans. We assumed we’d visit the usual attractions like the Louvre in Paris or the Prado in Madrid. In fact, I hadn’t done any research for our trip to Spain and didn’t realize that Picasso’s work was housed in the Reina Sofia Museum, so we missed seeing Guernica, but were pleasantly surprised to encounter Hieronymus Bosch. That’s just how our travels go; we miss some things but stumble upon others.
Our children, however, were less than impressed with our laid-back approach to sightseeing. This became increasingly problematic as each child decided to take matters into their own hands, insisting we visit their chosen attractions. Of course, they could never agree; that would be too straightforward. If Ethan wanted to visit Monaco, Lucas wanted to go to Cannes. If Mia craved a meal at Le Petit Bistro, Ethan wanted crepes instead. One child wanted to hit the beach while another preferred a castle tour. The only consensus they reached was to go shopping, which my husband and I vehemently opposed, especially since all they sought were the same Adidas sneakers and Calvin Klein t-shirts available back home for half the price. Consequently, the one activity we all participated in was arguing. At one point, the boys, sharing a room, even came to blows over which bed they would sleep in.
As if the constant squabbling wasn’t enough, Lucas, the youngest, declared he didn’t come on vacation to wake up early. He insisted on sleeping in and meeting up with us later wherever we ended up. My husband would complain about our son’s laziness, reminding us that we had paid for five breakfasts, not four, while I worried about how Lucas would manage to find us in the chaotic streets of Barcelona, especially since we could only connect when we had Wi-Fi—which was almost nonexistent—and I struggled to find my way to the Gaudi museum, even with a map. Lucas didn’t need a map, though, because he knew how to access Google Maps on his phone. He always found us, regardless of our location, rendering our worries and frustrations futile, making us appear unreasonable.
What troubled me most was what all this indicated about my parenting skills. How had I raised such demanding and combative children? To quarrel over a hotel bed? “When I was growing up, all five of us shared the same shower!” I exclaimed. “All five of us!” I made it sound as if we were akin to the Waltons (the TV series, not the Walmart heirs). My mother would recount tales of using an outhouse as a child, and here my kids were bickering over which bed was closest to the bathroom. Their arguing had gotten so loud that someone from management knocked on their door! I realized this was what truly upset me. If they had been quieter about their disputes, it would have felt less shameful. I felt humiliated. I was a terrible mother. Whenever my kids visited friends, those parents would always comment on how well-behaved they were. Apparently, they only let loose around us.
My parents never asked me or my siblings where we wanted to eat, what movie we wanted to see, or where we wanted to sit. They simply told us, and that was the end of it. Sure, things might have gone more smoothly for them, but it also created a distance between us; we loved them but didn’t see them as equals or friends. I call my mother now, not just out of duty, but because I care. My daughter, on the other hand, calls me simply because we’re best friends—her words. So, I’m not entirely convinced my parents’ way of parenting, though well-intentioned, was any better than my approach.
Then again, perhaps that’s the point. They felt free to be themselves, flaws and all. Yes, they can be difficult at times, but they are also our companions in life and on these journeys. Just like our travel philosophy, where my husband and I may miss some attractions but discover others, our kids may sometimes be challenging companions, but they remain our companions nonetheless. We’re buddies, my crew and I. That’s why my husband and I spent nearly two hours sipping overpriced Perriers while we waited for our kids to finish bathing at the crowded beach in Cannes. Because that’s what friends do; they hold your drink while you dance.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, the author shares her experiences traveling to Europe with her adult children, exploring the challenges that arise from differing preferences and family dynamics. While the trip is marked by bickering and disagreements, it also highlights the importance of companionship and acceptance of each family member’s quirks. Ultimately, the journey reinforces the bonds between them, reminding us that despite the chaos, family trips can foster deeper connections.
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