I read somewhere that you only get 18 summers with your child. Isn't it a little mind-boggling to quantify such an ethereal thing like "summer."
I'm sure before I became a parent, I would have thought that 18 sounded completely reasonable. But now, with two boys growing up rapidly before my eyes, 18 seems so terribly inadequate.
How can you possible fit in all the melting popsicles, cannon balls into the pool, underdog pushes on the playground, and smells of charcoal grills and musty tents in just 18 years?
My very best memories from my childhood are planted firmly between Memorial Day weekend and Labor Day weekend. Maybe that's because my mom was a teacher, and had so much more time to do fun things with us during the summer. Maybe because our vacations, when my dad was blissfully away from his job, almost always took place in the summer. Camping trips to Vermont and Maine with my cousins, swimming at my aunt and uncle's pool, the summer reading program at the local library, runs through the sprinkler, and the taste of Bomb Pops. There's something so wonderfully magical about summer.
We're halfway through the British summer. We've spent our first month making amazing memories. Such a sharp contrast to last summer, when I didn't even know where the grocery store was, let alone anything fun. I wrote this post about savoring our first British summer, but the truth was, we spent most of our days waiting in line at the cell phone store or the bank.
This year, we've done a bit of exploring, including our trip to Ireland, but mostly it's been about picking strawberries. And splashing around in fountains (that date back to Elizabethan times... this is England, after all). Trips to the park and the beach. And riding scooters up and down the street with the other kids in the neighborhood.
Monday, July 28, 2014
Monday, July 21, 2014
Our Biggest Travel Mishaps (and Lessons Learned)
One of my (many) flaws as a blogger is only sharing the dreamy memories. I love to write about blissful strolls through markets. Endless afternoons on sunny beaches. Terrific resorts. Tantalizing food. You get the idea.
I tend to leave out the "and then the two-year-old had a meltdown" or "my five-year-old complained the entire time we were there" moments. Yes, they happen. We deal with them and move on, and try not to get hung up on it or let it ruin our experience. They're rarely what I remember most about our travels anyway. Maybe that's a survival mechanism?
Aside from those normal frustrations, though, we have had some interesting experiences of rotten luck during our year of traveling around Europe that are worth sharing. We've learned some valuable lessons from them, but my biggest takeaway from it all? My kids handle unfortunate situations much better than I do.
SICK IN SCANDINAVIA, Summer 2013. A week in Scandinavia was our first major voyage into Europe with the kids, having just moved to England the previous month. For the most part, things went really smoothly. And then my husband and I both got sick halfway through the week. Fortunately, it only lasted about 24 hours. We were both feverish, achy, and exhausted, but we were able to care for the boys which was my biggest concern.
What I learned?
CANCELLED PARIS TRIP, Fall 2013. Again, sickness struck, only this time it was my kids and it happened before we departed for a planned trip to Paris (I wrote all about the yucky details here.) I still haven't emotionally recovered from the disappointment.
What I learned?
What I learned?
What I learned?
I tend to leave out the "and then the two-year-old had a meltdown" or "my five-year-old complained the entire time we were there" moments. Yes, they happen. We deal with them and move on, and try not to get hung up on it or let it ruin our experience. They're rarely what I remember most about our travels anyway. Maybe that's a survival mechanism?
Aside from those normal frustrations, though, we have had some interesting experiences of rotten luck during our year of traveling around Europe that are worth sharing. We've learned some valuable lessons from them, but my biggest takeaway from it all? My kids handle unfortunate situations much better than I do.
SICK IN SCANDINAVIA, Summer 2013. A week in Scandinavia was our first major voyage into Europe with the kids, having just moved to England the previous month. For the most part, things went really smoothly. And then my husband and I both got sick halfway through the week. Fortunately, it only lasted about 24 hours. We were both feverish, achy, and exhausted, but we were able to care for the boys which was my biggest concern.
What I learned?
- Always pack some basic medicine. Once we had some ibuprofen in our system, we were much more functional.
- Do something easy and let go of your planned itinerary. After staggering through Gothenburg the night before, we gave up on the idea of more sightseeing and just headed to a children's museum near our hotel the next day. Kids had a ball, and my husband and I moved from bench to bench, supervising them but also resting.
- Research your medical options in advance. Where's the closest hospital or 24-hour medical center to where you are staying? This is especially important if you're staying in a rental property, where there isn't staff to ask like you'd have at a hotel.
Universeum in Gothenburg, Sweden. A fun place for kids to play and parents to rest. |
What I learned?
- Always get trip insurance. This would have covered our apartment rental and pricey train tickets. As it were, we basically paid for a trip we never took. Le sigh.
Not what you dream of when you imagine a Portugal vacation. |
What I learned?
- Ask when you pick up your car what to do in the event of an emergency. Our paperwork was in Portuguese, meaning we called about 5 numbers before we got the right one. Doing so while stuck on the side of the highway was not ideal. My friend Keryn at Walking on Travels wrote a really great post on what to do when you have an accident in your rental car.
Our view for four straight hours, with two kids in the backseat anxious to get on with the journey! |
- Always, always pack a few more snacks and diapers than you think you'll need (bottle feeding a baby? Ditto those supplies.) I was kicking myself that I didn't get up 5 minutes earlier in the morning to make a few PBJ sandwiches, as I had intended to. Luckily, we bought the last two hot dogs before the parking lot vendor sold out.
I share some of these, not to scare you away from your own adventures, but to show you that a) even when travel isn't picture perfect, it's still worth doing, and b) we can do things to be better prepared the next time around.
This post is a part of Travel Tips Tuesday at Suitcases and Sippy Cups and Walking on Travels.
Monday, July 14, 2014
Battle Proms: My July 4 Cure
Holidays are a challenging time when you're an expat. Living abroad means not spending those key days each year with your family and friends by your side, as you're likely accustomed to doing. And then there are those holidays unique to your specific country which slip by without any fanfare. For us, Thanksgiving and 4th of July will always be emotionally difficult, if for no other reason than it's just a normal day of the week all around us.
Last year, July 4 was particularly depressing. My facebook feed was full of updates and photos of celebrations, cookouts, pool parties and fireworks. Having only been here a month, we basically knew no one, and I sat around most of the day in a funk. I vowed next year would be different. So when some friends mentioned going to the Battle Proms concert, scheduled for July 5, I thought it sounded like the perfect solution to beat my homesickness.
What's Battle Proms, you ask? I wrote a description for Anglotopia here, but essentially it's an outdoor classical music concert with a military twist. They're held in several locations around the UK, and we were fortunate to have one hosted at Burghley House, the famous Elizabethan home right here in Stamford.
We started with a picnic dinner, impressive stately home as our backdrop. (It's hard to take me seriously when I say that being an expat is hard, and then I drop a photo like this, right?)
Last year, July 4 was particularly depressing. My facebook feed was full of updates and photos of celebrations, cookouts, pool parties and fireworks. Having only been here a month, we basically knew no one, and I sat around most of the day in a funk. I vowed next year would be different. So when some friends mentioned going to the Battle Proms concert, scheduled for July 5, I thought it sounded like the perfect solution to beat my homesickness.
What's Battle Proms, you ask? I wrote a description for Anglotopia here, but essentially it's an outdoor classical music concert with a military twist. They're held in several locations around the UK, and we were fortunate to have one hosted at Burghley House, the famous Elizabethan home right here in Stamford.
We started with a picnic dinner, impressive stately home as our backdrop. (It's hard to take me seriously when I say that being an expat is hard, and then I drop a photo like this, right?)
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Family Memories in Biarritz
There's a line in our family's favorite children's book, The Gruffalo, that keeps coming to mind whenever I think of our time in Biarritz in May.
"You lead the way, and I'll follow after."
My kids are oblivious about the nuances of travel. As long as their bellies are full and they can run around a bit, they're relatively content. That's true whether they're at a highway service station on a road trip or a gorgeous, five star resort on the beach. Makes no difference to them. Whereas we adults sometimes get so caught up in whether or not our hotel lives up to its TripAdvisor reviews or if the service at the restaurant was too slow.
Our only full day exploring Biarritz was a great example. Here we were, in one of the poshest cities in Europe. Passing by stores with names like Herve Leger and Hermes (thanks to excessive watching of the Rachel Zoe Project when Little Arrow was a newborn, I at least recognize these names!) People sitting in cafes, wearing sunglasses worth more than my entire wardrobe, sipping fancy drinks. Surfers, with their six-pack abs, clutching their boards ready for a day hanging ten. My kids didn't pick up on any of this. They simply knew this place had a beach, and therefore it MUST be amazing.
So they happily pranced out to the Virgin Rock in their dusty, hand-me-down crocs, as if they were running to catch that perfect wave.
"You lead the way, and I'll follow after."
My kids are oblivious about the nuances of travel. As long as their bellies are full and they can run around a bit, they're relatively content. That's true whether they're at a highway service station on a road trip or a gorgeous, five star resort on the beach. Makes no difference to them. Whereas we adults sometimes get so caught up in whether or not our hotel lives up to its TripAdvisor reviews or if the service at the restaurant was too slow.
Our only full day exploring Biarritz was a great example. Here we were, in one of the poshest cities in Europe. Passing by stores with names like Herve Leger and Hermes (thanks to excessive watching of the Rachel Zoe Project when Little Arrow was a newborn, I at least recognize these names!) People sitting in cafes, wearing sunglasses worth more than my entire wardrobe, sipping fancy drinks. Surfers, with their six-pack abs, clutching their boards ready for a day hanging ten. My kids didn't pick up on any of this. They simply knew this place had a beach, and therefore it MUST be amazing.
So they happily pranced out to the Virgin Rock in their dusty, hand-me-down crocs, as if they were running to catch that perfect wave.