Wildflowers born from a homebody’s garden
On the train back from Paris, I journaled some thoughts on the dreamiest trip of trips. My eldest son was deep into reading his French magazine on luxury cars. My youngest played Roblox on my phone. We were out of talking points, and the magic spell from the trip started to dissipate, and all of us were tired.
It was my first time traveling solo with the kids. I was nervous to do this by myself, because my kids can be all over the place. My husband called me insane for even trying, and friends and family called me brave and strong. I had worked out all kinds of plans and strategies to make it go smoothly. If Z happened, I would do X, and vice versa. I laid out the rules to them night after night, before we even set foot on the train, and shared all my worries with friends, colleagues, and family, but I was determined to make it work. It just had to work.
Surprise,surprise, the whole trip exceeded my expectations. The boys were so well-behaved and acted responsibly. I saw whole families struggling and bickering with each other, while siblings fought and irritated one another. It's what kids do. It’s what happens in family’s. It's what I was afraid of happening while carrying the parental load on my own. But my kids came through, they must have felt we were in this together, because they were showing up so differently than at home.
I noticed their attention span increased. They were engaged and present almost the whole trip. We had the best conversations together. In bed before we fell asleep, but also on the streets of Paris.
I guess the overall physical and mental effort this experience took made them calm.
A homebody raising two wanderers
How are these kids mine? Apparently they feel calm when they get out of the familiar, whereas my heart starts to race and pound uncontrollably in new situations and surroundings. Having grown up in chaos, I crave comfort and predictability to a large extent, and I love to stay lazy. I'm a homebody. I like my comfort. I can easily spend days in bed, and be in utter bliss. What is heaven if not watching series, reading books, having some secret snacks in bed (I know, gross for most people, not for me). I love everything and anything that happens in and around a bed: sleep, chilling, writing, meandering, cuddles, sex. The bed is my favorite place. For my kids, quite the opposite, as it turns out.
That one time I went backpacking
My best friends like to travel too. Most of them have been all around the globe. During university they backpacked in Asia, Africa, South America. Did internships in United States, lived in Australia for a year or so. Sticking to Europe was basic, I guess. I never understood the need. Even on a short holiday I was that one weird friend complaining about being homesick. I was way happier with designer bags, clothes, and furniture. Even with children, my friends still travel, one took her toddler for a roundtrip to India, another to Mexico. I barely had the bravery to take the train to Paris with two tweens.
I went backpacking with my best friend through Morocco, from Marrakech to the coastline, down to the border of Algeria and back. Rarely do I fight or get angry with people or my friends. On this trip, I did. I hated figuring out where to sleep each day, not knowing when or if the bus would arrive in a lull village. The trip was not touristy at all. We slept in the dessert under the stars and were invited by locals to eat and sleep at their houses. Very Lonely Planet, very dangerous for two twenty-something-year-old girls, but luckily we were met with good manners and kindness. Still, my anxiety skyrocketed, and I swore I would never again.
Oh how the turned have tables
For a good plot twist as a parent, I recommend asking your kids bluntly what they would like if they had the choice. So I asked my boys: ‘If I could do anything better as your mother, what would it be?’
I have a habit of asking my children hard, philosophical questions just because I can.
In chorus they said: I wish we would travel more. My eldest continued: I want to take lots of trips, go on adventures, and see the world. I want to go to Monaco, Germany, England and Italy.
Then it hit me.
They don't need the mother I imagined I'd be. The ideal mother I'd envisioned was the adult I needed growing up. A bookwurm, and most of all, comfortably chilling at home while doing something creative quietly.
My kids’ ideal parent is someone who’s out for adventures 24/7. Like my best friend likes to be. She feels most at ease, when she roams across different countries and cultures.
Neither version of being is better than the other. They're just different.
These two realizations brought relief, because I had a way to rigid view on motherhood and good parenting (that’s a story for another day). And also the understanding, that in all these years of parenting I was being gently pushed out of my comfort bed. To be more active, adventurous and on the move. Perhaps my best friends were preparing me for the mother I would need to become.
My favorite place is wherever I’m with you
Our next trip is already booked, and even though we haven't gone yet, I'm still working on making a to-do list to get everything ready for our travels. I kid you not, I'm already thinking of where our next trip in spring/summer '27 will be. Portugal is high on the list, but so is Montenegro, and I'm thinking of a little trip to Stuttgart (mostly for my son who wants to see the Porsche museum).
I wasn’t born to live life like a wildflower, comfortable to adapt to any kind of environment and setting. I mean, I did as the kid of my rolling-stone father, but that was out of necessity, not my personality. But by the looks of it the necessity is back.
As I write this, Co-Star (the pop culture astrology app) treated me with this little gem:
