I apologize for my long absence from the blog. It’s been a busy couple of months. We finally bought a house, and with the help of many friends, got moved to our new home. Then the projects began – and continue. Summer school term wrapped up, and I’m prepping for fall term to begin in a couple of weeks. My book is coming along slowly what with all of the above. The blog has been completely neglected.
But I need to get back here. It’s like running and yoga for me; once I get out of the habit of lacing up my shoes or rolling out my mat or actually hitting “publish” on a blog post, these things I love seem to get a bit harder to do. So today, I thought I’d share my latest installment of Things I’ve Learned About Traveling with Children. (Follow the links to previous installments on traveling with babies and toddlers).
Last week, Cee and I traveled together to Kentucky, where I grew up. It was a last-minute trip, tickets booked just days before our flight. Husband was working and couldn’t leave on such short notice. The reason for our trip was bittersweet. A dear friend died unexpectedly, and we went to mourn her loss and celebrate her life. Despite the sadness, it was a special trip with Cee. It was her first visit to Kentucky, so she met (and vice versa) lots of old friends, many of whom now have kids of their own. (I no longer have immediate family in Kentucky, so we don’t visit there often.) Together, we explored the little house where I grew up, touched the grave of my father, and splashed in the creek where I spent the summers. My mom and my brother also came, so it was full reunion of family and friends.
Something else made this trip special: Cee was an absolute joy as a travel companion. Until this trip, travel always felt like a scary limbo – so long as we were in airports or on planes, until we had a bed and a home base, I carried the knowledge that everything might fall apart at any moment. There could be a poop explosion on the plane or projectile vomit upon landing. My bare boobs might fly out of my shirt as my nursing baby squirmed, the two of us wedged in the middle seat between two strange men.There could be two hours of inconsolable crying on a fully booked red eye from Oregon to New York. I say this because all of these things have happened over the last few years of traveling with Cee. We’re experienced travelers, we know the tricks, and we roll with the punches when things get messy. And they usually do, so I don’t much look forward to traveling.
But now… Cee is potty trained, so no poop explosions (although she did wear a pull-up while we were flying, just in case). She can now tell me when she feels nauseous, so we had plenty of time to get out the little complimentary motion sickness bag. And she’s weaned, so no need to lift my shirt. She sleeps when she’s tired, avoiding that dangerous over-tired state. Cee is two, but when people ask how old she is, I now feel the need to add that she’ll be three in November. Especially after this trip, she doesn’t feel like a toddler anymore. Continue reading