I was driving along the road near the coast. You know that feeling–all of your cares are living somewhere else. My heart felt light. My mind felt clear. I wasn’t thinking about what’s going to happen on Thursday or what deadlines were waiting for me next week. Why? Because I knew on Thursday I’d still be here–driving down the coast for a morning coffee; laying on a raft in the pool; taking a slow walk along the seaside looking for black shells or sea glass.
As I was washed in that moment of peace, I looked in the rearview mirror. My son had his window down, eyes half-closed, with his head tilted and laying on his arms along the base of the window; wind combing his hair. It was a moment that reminded me how much I love my kids and how grateful I was for the chance to take them away for a few days.
This moment lasted about 48 seconds before I heard a loud “thump” and my youngest yelled “Oh nooooo!” followed by my son saying “mom…” in that way that sounds like a warning and ends in a question mark. I hesitated turning around. When I glanced to my right, splatters of ice cream were just in view. I realized that must mean my daughter either dropped or threw her ice cream in such a way that there was enough momentum to launch some of her treat toward the front of the car. Suffice it to say we pulled over and spent the next 30 minutes cleaning out the car while my daughter cried about losing her “ice ceam (she doesn’t say r’s well yet),” and my son covered his ears.
If you’ve been here, you know.
“Parenting with palm trees” is a phrase I stole from another parent and it just fits. It fits because I love my kids deeply. I also love going on vacations. Vacations with kids (two things I deeply love) also tend to bring a change in routine, missed naps, late nights, early mornings, less sleep, more tears… and it also brings a loud giggle when their toes hit the sand; calm mornings that smell like fresh air and salt; little feet that run toward me when they discover something new; and loud cheers when one or both learn how to swim, boogie board, or try something new they weren’t sure of. As with most things–vacationing with children can be both and that’s okay. It’s beautiful, even. I’ll remember the launched ice cream just as much as I’ll remember the squeals as they ran from the waves.
And while this is true, there are some things I try to remember when I’m “parenting with palm trees (or anywhere away from home).” Here’s a short list of things I’ve found helpful in moments when I feel exhausted, overwhelmed, or maybe even a little irritable.
- Breathe. I know–no surprise with this one. Hear me out, though–really breathe; slow your breath; slow your rhythm. There’s no where to be here; no pressure to move quickly. There’s time.
- Soften expectations. … of the grown-ups and the kids. Transitions and changes can impact everyone. Remembering to soften expectations about an outing, a visit to the beach, or a dinner can create flexibility instead of friction.
- Lean into discomfort. If there’s friction and irritability is taking the lead, try to pause and ask, “what is this emotion trying to tell me? Is there something I’m not okay with? Do I need a snack or a nap, too? (almost always) Is there something I’m resisting or struggling to let go of?” (expectations/assumptions of self or others and so on)
- Look for connection. On my last trip I ran into a kind man who always said hello. I met a sweet family with two children who were in the thick of “parenting with palm trees” just like us. I connected with a mother who was retired and about to celebrate her daughter’s wedding in a few weeks. I chatted with the pest control guy when we got lost. We had some laughs with the man running the show at a historical reenactment. Connection always lifted our spirits.
- Make decisions moment by moment. Plans are wonderful. I love a good list. I love a schedule of what we’ll do for dinner each day. And… if a day proves more challenging; if naps are skipped; if there are more struggles with transition than usual… it might be okay to cancel dinner plans, order pizza, and rent a movie in. Adjusting to the moment isn’t failure–it’s freedom.
I hope this feels validating and hopeful all rolled into one. The more I normalize the exhaustion (feeling connected to others’ experiences, too) while still holding sacred space for the joys of parenting, the more grounded I feel; the more I trust myself; the more okay I feel when things “go wrong;” the more centered I feel when my kids have a hard time; and the more compassion I give myself when I have a hard time, too.
Here’s to vacations, tears, peace, and lots of memories as we roll into another school year.
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