I just got back from my first mother-daughter trip (at least, my first mother-daughter trip where I’m the mother) and LET ME TELL YOU – I thought I’d be writing a much different post.
I thought I’d be writing about the difficulties of flying alone with a baby: Folding the stroller solo in the security line while simultaneously holding her, trying to get her to hold still on my lap for hours on end, figuring out how to get the portable car seat into my friend’s car. I thought I’d be writing about waking up multiple times per night because she isn’t used to sleeping in a pack ‘n play in an unfamiliar environment, the mess of feeding her without a high chair, the challenge of trying to coordinate nap times on the go, and all those other little things that make traveling with a baby not for the faint of heart.
And all those things happened. But before our trip, I didn’t feel nervous. In fact, I surprised myself by feeling downright excited. Of course I was excited about going to Santa Barbara to visit my college girlfriends. The part I was surprised about: I was ALSO excited to meet the challenge of traveling alone with one of my children. During our trip, I didn’t feel stressed out. And in these quiet moments the morning after our trip, while my son is at daycare and my daughter is taking her morning nap in the other room, pride is the emotion that stands out among the others.
That sounds corny and silly and I’m kind of mad at myself for writing it, but I’m writing it because it’s TRUE. I hyped myself up. I challenged myself. Before I had kids–especially before I had a second kid–I told myself that I wouldn’t stop doing the things I wanted to do because they’d be harder with children in tow. I wouldn’t stay home just because it’s easier. I wouldn’t put off experiences because I didn’t want to deal with portable baby gear and feeding and sleeping on the go. Of course, a lot of the time I do stay home because it’s easier and I don’t want to deal with portable baby gear.
But some of the time, I go. Some of the time, I decide that I want to do something that’s fulfilling for me and fun for my kid and who cares if it takes a lot of time and effort and energy?
This little girls’ trip was one of those times. It took time and effort and energy and sure, it was harder to travel with a baby than to travel alone or with a partner or friend. But it was also more fulfilling. It was more fun, in a lot of ways. It was certainly more adorable.
As mothers, we need to keep reminding ourselves–again and again, every day–that having kids isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s not easy. But it’s worth it. And the not-easy parts are the parts that make us who we are: Strong, capable women.
At least I didn’t sit next to a stranger on the plane who filmed my kid throwing a temper tantrum to post on TikTok, which may or may not be what happened the first time I flew with my son.
And at least I didn’t forget to pack a change of clothes in my carry-on this time. Because last time we flew, that’s exactly what happened and of course she pooped all over her clothes and of course the airport shop had no baby outfits and of course I had to dress her in a t-shirt made for an eight year old and adult socks. And actually let me clarify–I did forget to pack a change of clothes in my carry-on this time, so what I should say is this: At least my baby didn’t poop through her clothes.