In December, the week before Christmas, this little family got COVID. While we threw ourselves a pity party during our week of quarantining, we planned a trip to California. Armed with antibodies, we were ready to open up our world.
As I booked flights and Airbnbs, I knew the trip would give me anxiety, but it felt so far away. I filed the trip anxiety under “Read later”.
Then, the week leading into our trip, I was a ball of nerves. One minute I’d be looking forward to hearing the ocean waves and being surrounded by forest. The next, I’d worry about whether the Ubers getting us to and from the airport would smell like cigarette smoke. Traveling with a kid is a thousand times harder than traveling on my own.
There are so many details to think about when vacationing with Bubba. (Is it really a “vacation” when your kid is with you?) Snacks to bring on the plane for him. How many diapers to bring. Whether to bring a box of pasta if we get to our first Airbnb too late at night. What to pack in the carry-ons in case our suitcases get lost. The list goes on for pages.
Of course, most of these details are rooted in fear and anxiety. Now that I look back on our trip, most of my fears didn’t happen. I wish I were a more carefree parent. I wish I didn’t care about so many things when it comes to my child. I wish my mind didn’t jump to so many “what ifs” and feel the need to have a plan for everything. Life, for myself and everyone around me, would be so much easier.
Somehow, this trip forced me to let go of things that would normally bother me at home. There were times we couldn’t wash Bub’s hands before he ate. There were times I couldn’t cook a homemade meal for him. There were times we let him watch TV for two hours so we could catch up with friends.
But, my letting go also created memorable experiences. On our trip, Bub went to a restaurant for the first time and ate his first French fry. He ate his first chocolate chip cookie. He hung out with Steve while I went to the office for the first time in two years.
This trip marked two years of living in Illinois; two years of being parents; two years of pandemic isolation. Exactly two years after we left California, we were back. Bub in tow.
We drove down roads we frequented in our Prius with Buddha in the backseat. This time, we were in a minivan with Bub in a car seat. I was happy to be amongst the trees and seas again. I loved being able to go to a new hiking trail each day. I loved letting Bub play with sticks and stones and dump dirt on his boots. I loved when we pointed out to him the tiny roly poly crossing the trail. I loved watching him collect rocks and chuck them across a ravine. I’ve missed being completely immersed in nature and have it be so close by. The Bay has a distinct smell to it - piney, herby, earthy. Hiking through the trails again, the smell and the nostalgia of two years ago came flooding back. Breathing it in deeply, I felt calmer, more grounded. Steve joked that I had to go to the edge of the earth in order to feel a sense of peace.
This trip was full of firsts for Bub and each of his firsts is a first for me as his mama. First flight for Bub means first flight for me with a toddler. First restaurant experience for Bub means first restaurant experience for me with him. One of the best parts about a trip is the unknown, the uncertainty, the sense of adventure. For this anxious mom, new things mean risk and danger. This trip taught me that the pros of adventure outweigh the cons. Life should be about fun and adventure, and that’s what I want to teach Reg.
My wise friend gave me wonderful advice before the trip. She said, “When your mind jumps to worst case scenario, force yourself to also think about the best case.” And isn’t “best case” the very reason we plan trips in the first place?
