Last summer, I planned what I thought would be an epic adventure. An amazing trip with my husband and four kids for my 50th birthday. My sister and her family decided to come too, and then my brother and my mom.
We planned to start in Spain, travel up through France, and end in England. We were going to have twenty days of family time and memory-making. I envisioned a raucous party, strolling across Europe, eating tapas and baguettes, sipping Sancerre and Rioja.
But we all know what they say about the best laid plans.
The trip started out well enough
We flew to Madrid, and everyone got to choose an activity that they really wanted to do.
My daughter decided to go to the Reina Sofía museum, which everyone loved. I forced the 12 of us to go to a flamenco show that turned out to be marvelous. We took a train north and lounged at the beach, watching the surfers and giggling at the European casual beach nudity. My dream vacation was a reality.
Sure, my 19-year-old was grumpy and didn’t appreciate the tight quarters. My 15-year-old decided to sit some things out, preferring to watch TikTok videos in the hotel room. Yes, these were bellwethers. I should have seen the storm coming.
Things started to unravel
By the time we got to Paris, just one week into our trip, spirits had begun to flag. Breakfast at the French bakery was just my mom and me; everyone else slept in. A trip to the Louvre ended in a screaming match.
Are my kids ungrateful brats? Um, sometimes. But also, I should have known. Four teenagers stuffed into a small hotel room with their parents? It’s a one-week max operation.
My kids also have some neurodiversities that make them more sensitive to noises and crowds. Looking back, I see that those were not ideal circumstances for the “big raucous party” I had planned.
This was my ideal vacation, not theirs
It was no one’s dream but my own to travel across Europe. My husband’s ideal trip is to relax at an all-inclusive resort. My son would love to ride roller coasters at a theme park. My daughter prefers a big city.
On top of that, asking everyone to be together in a small hotel room is often difficult under the best circumstances.
People also don’t think about how stressful travel can be for many. You don’t have your “things,” food is unpredictable, beds can be uncomfortable, so people aren’t getting a good rest, and you’re hauling all your crap around. These are all things that stand out loud and clear to me now.
The moments of joy were worth all of the sour moods
Over our entire three-week trip, I’m not sure I got a single photo of everyone looking happy at the same time. That said, I know the memories we made are ones I will always treasure.
The boat trip down the Seine with Edith Piaf music playing in the background. Trying to make the Beefeaters react in London. Getting lost and taking a looooong walk in San Sebastian. My mom spending precious time with her grandkids. All seven cousins aged 10 to 19 shopping at the Spanish market. Sipping champagne with my sister on the beach. All of these are things I’ll treasure, and the bad stuff will slowly fade away.
But, the one thing that I’ll make sure won’t fade is the important lesson I learned: When you’re taking a trip with teenagers, a week is the ideal length.
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