Have Children, Will Travel

My husband Loverboy and I love to travel. Love it. We vowed before Will (5) and Jane (2) came along that we would incorporate our children in our adventures and enrich our family, and not abandon our jetsetting dreams.

The overhead-compartment loads are not as light these days as before--no slipping into seat 7B with a hot tea and my bag full of Vogue and and Iris Murdoch--and though we're a little worse for the wear afterwards, Loverboy and I get a weird kick out of traveling compactly, media-free, and stylishly. Ok the last one is mostly me. But sometimes traveling, no matter how much proactive planning precedes, is grueling. The details--the details! The energy required--the energy! The inconveniently-timed potty breaks! Why travel? Why? Why?

*During our layover I ate and then got sick off of a prepackaged deli sandwich with questionable meat. The massive turbulence, which would have made the inverted dives on Top Gun look like kiddie rides, didn't help the nausea. The scalding peppermint tea at our arrival, which did help, burned my tongue.

*We waited to board in seats facing a classy and beautiful woman with a birthmark spanning the left side of her face, and Will said loudly, "That lady got too close to the oven. She was not minding about ovens." What to do what to do smile and apologize or ignore his naive social idiocy or look the other way as if he were talking about another woman or pretend to faint so the comment gets buried in the current drama?

*We spilled little airplane plastic cups of diet coke and apple juice on our laps (and over the cover of my Vanity Fair, sorry to Jackie O's lovely face). I stood, laughed in front of the seated sipping audience and said to the guy across the row from me (reading Twilight by the way). "Well what can you do" and apparently you could do nothing because his eyes glazed over my jeans and he returned to Edward and Bella and their vampirish love plight. Travel note to self: dark wash jeans really do hide stains.

But why travel with children? Aside from wanting to end up in the same destination? Well.

*A wave of awwwwws surrounded us as toddler J (2) pulled her own luggage and, when ran into a post or a person, said "Oops, almost." Nothing would deter her, nor our 5-year-old who pushed onto his own seat upon descent, completely sure that his Superhero strength alone guided the plane. Because travel means magic.

*Airplanes constitute an alter existence. Have a sprite--have two. Yes, by all means talk to strangers around you. Here, have another candy, chew gum. Miss your nap. Yes yes put on Mommy's lipstick. Color in my magazine, sure.

*After landing, we drove another two hours to a 10,000 acre ranch and lodge for my brother's wedding...

...and sang Texas songs ("Oh the yellow rose of Texas..."), laughed at the cows, spotted tumbleweed and counted how many cattle guards we passed before getting out into the sunlight and running to hug and visit with people we love most in the world.

*I gave a toast at the rehearsal dinner--teary the entire way through--and afterwards all of the children rode by waving on a tractor-pulled hay ride, squealing and giddy.

*And the next day we watched my brother and his now wife also barely be able to contain themselves as they said their vows in this rustic elegant chapel, while a family of deer crossed the field in view of the large windows. You just don't get that at home, luggage tucked into the closet.

These last three photos courtesy of Aaron Cave at Blind Apple Photography. He is awesome.

Check him out. Use his services.

*Nor do you get this: a toddler daughter yelling "Ride em cowgirl" and a son happily clearing away grapevine and riding horses, and afterwards saying, "Well I was shy to be the ring bearer but--" slamming back into his return-flight seat "man I feel great."