A Tale of Two Trips

October 24, 2008



It was the best of travel. It was the worst of travel.

I traveled the last two weekends which, in the world of momhood, is almost unheard of especially because the first of those weekends was sans children, minus husband, plus two of my dearest friends. So let's start there--the best of travel.

I headed back to Ann Arbor, Michigan for a girls weekend in our favorite college town (full of our favorite foodie destinations--shout out to Pizza House and Zingermann's which did not disappoint!). I flew with a friend from L.A. and our travel experience could not have been less stressful. I threw a few things in a small carry-on the night before and grabbed an apple and a protein bar as my snack for the plane. We parked our car, strolled into the airport and headed right for security as we had no luggage (or stroller or car seat) to check. Security was a breeze. We stopped for a latte because you can do that when you have nothing and no one to carry or push. We got on the plane and read magazines--lots and lots of them. Both of us slept a little. And we talked too--actual conversation, like, about life and our familes, careers. It was a real conversation with meaning and connection. I remember those. When the flight attendant came by with beverages, I took one--a cup with no top. I didn't have to chug it. Instead, I simply placed it on my tray table and nursed that diet coke for a good fifteen minutes. It was damn refreshing!

When it was time to use the bathroom, it was just me doing my business (a far cry from my best and worst mom moment ever involving me, my five-year old son, two-year old daughter, a tampon and a tiny, cramped airplane bathroom halfway between L.A. and New York but I digress...). When the plane landed, I was totally relaxed. I walked smugly passed the poor souls waiting for their strollers and practically skipped up the jetway where my east coast friend was waiting peacefully with her very own latte, enjoying the same calm I was experiencing. We followed the signs to the rental cars. Stairs? Escalators? No problem. We were mobile. Shuttles? Easy. We had no "stuff" to schlep. No car seats to install. No diapers to change before we hit the road.

The weekend was awesome. We slept in--'till 8 am. We ate what and when we wanted. We browsed casually in stores. Went to a football game. It was a perfect weekend. The first time in a long time that I remembered what it felt like to be my own person. Back home, my friends and family joked that I was going back to college to feel young. The funny thing was that once I was there, I didn't want to be young. I didn't want to be that sophomore I saw slumped over her books or even that senior blabbing on her cellphone about some guy who did her wrong. Instead, I wanted to call the health department on the guys now living in my former house (lesson learned--never rent to college boys). I wanted to make sure and get great gifts to bring home to my two beautiful children (by Sunday, I was missing them). And I wanted to bypass the line at Rick's (gross bar) to go sit quietly and have some ice cream with my wonderful friends.

The plane ride home was quick and easy. I was sad to leave but happy at what I had to come home to.

By contrast...

My whole family (mom-in-law included) traveled to Montreal, my husband's family's hometown, for a wedding. The packing started days before our departure--a Target run to load up on new games and books for the plane ride. A Trader Joe's run for a wide variety snacks to satisfy even the most picky of eaters. And a last minute Old Navy run after trying on my son's pants (we're still in shorts out west) and realizing that he's now a size up. I had lists with items to remember that could not be packed until the last moment--my daughter's giraffe blanket, my son's Star Wars figures that go wherever he does and the two pink pacifiers that make traveling with my daughter possible. Fortunately, there were three adults and two children so we were not outnumbered but there was still plenty of schlepping, negotiating and heavy lifting.

Once on board, my children were, obviously, starving. They had to eat right at that very moment no matter that the snack bag was out of my reach. As we hit the clouds, one needed the DVD player, the other needed his pinky- sized light saber (because that can't get lost on a jet plane). More importantly, no one needed sleep.

We had a great family trip full of wonderful moments that will make for great memories. I saw my daughter walk down the aisle as a flower girl. I watched my son, the ring bearer, make his second trip down a Montreal wedding aisle like a pro. My kids got to spend time with aunts, uncles and cousins. It was truly special. But...

I also slept in a bed with my flip-flopping daughter who must think I'm a size 2 because that's how much space she left me on the bed. I ate every meal with my girl firmly planted on my lap sticking her dirty fingers into my food. I drove around aimlessly so that the two precious ones could get their naps in. And I had surface conversations with people I truly wanted to speak with because, well, you can't exactly have a real conversation while changing a poopy diaper, breaking up a light saber fight or listening to the whine of Calliou in the background.

I guess the point is that not all trips are equal. They each have their own unique purpose and place in our lives. I wouldn't trade my weekend alone with the girls in A-squared for anything. But nor would I trade my family vacation in Montreal. I would, however, trade anything to never fly with children--at least for the next five years!