Surviving Family Travel

Spoiler: You’ll need a vacation after your vacation.

Let’s set the scene. You’re standing in the middle of your living room, surrounded by tiny suitcases, crushed Goldfish crackers, and an emotional toddler demanding to bring her entire stuffed animal kingdom on a 4-day trip.

You're going on a family vacation.

Exciting, right? A chance to make memories, explore the world, take adorable photos, and maybe (just maybe) relax a little.

Lies. All lies.

If you've ever traveled with young children, you know that the only thing predictable about family travel is that everything will go wildly off-script.

So, if you're gearing up for your next great adventure with the kids in tow, let me save you some tears, tantrums, and therapy bills. Here’s the brutally honest, sarcastically helpful, survival guide you didn’t know you needed.

Chapter 1: Packing – Aka: How to Fit an Entire House in a Bag

Here’s the fantasy: You pack a small, efficient suitcase for each child with only the essentials.

Here’s the reality: You're bringing four bags, three emergency blankets, 27 snacks, and still somehow forget someone’s shoes.

Pack like you're prepping for the apocalypse. Because honestly, toddler hunger and lost teddy bears might be worse.

Pro tip: Bring more wipes. No matter how many you think you need—triple it.

Chapter 2: Planes, Trains, and the Death Stare

Flying without kids is a relaxing experience. Flying with kids is a test of your will to live.

You haven’t known true fear until your toddler screams mid-takeoff and the entire row turns around like you just declared war. Welcome to the mile-high meltdown club.

Train rides? Slightly better. Unless your kid starts licking the window or asking loudly why that man "has a belly like Santa."

Road trips? Just say goodbye to peace and hello to Are we there yet? every six minutes for six hours.

Chapter 3: Hotels vs. Airbnbs – Choose Your Chaos

Hotels come with free breakfast and zero judgment from strangers (they’ve seen worse). But you’ll all be crammed into one room, taking turns pretending to be asleep.

Airbnbs give you space and a kitchen—which is great for making nuggets at 10 PM when your child refuses to eat anything that doesn’t come in dinosaur form.

No matter what you choose, no one is sleeping well. You’ll end up sharing a bed with a child who kicks in their sleep like they’re fighting ghosts.

Chapter 4: Dining Out – AKA Feeding the Wild Animals

Here’s what they’ll eat at a restaurant: Fries. Bread. Maybe some ketchup.

Here’s what they won’t eat: The $14.99 chicken tenders you specifically ordered for them.

And yes, they will 100% eat your meal instead, even though it’s the same thing, just on your plate.

Pro tip: Bribe them with dessert. Morals can be sorted out after vacation.

Chapter 5: The Safety Dance (But Make It Anxiety)

There is no casual stroll through a crowded space with kids. There is only code red supervision.

You’ll be tracking them like a hawk, practicing emergency plans, and whisper-screaming “hold my hand” every 30 seconds.

Helpful hacks:

Take a photo of your kid every morning in their outfit in case they vanish ninja-style.

Write your phone number on their arm.

Don’t be afraid of child leashes. They work. You are not above them.

Chapter 6: Entertainment or Bust

Screens vs. no screens? Don’t be a hero. Bring the tablet.

Also: sticker books, toys, fidget things, and the emergency lollipop you swore you’d never use but now clutches your last thread of sanity.

Pro tip: Wrap tiny toys in foil and hand them out like mystery gifts. You’re basically Santa, but sweaty and sleep-deprived.

Chapter 7: The Final Boss: Sleep

Vacation sleep is a myth. You will not rest. Your kids will not rest. And at least once, someone will scream, “I WANT TO GO HOME!” at 2 AM.

The hotel air smells funny, the pillow is “too flat,” and no one packed the moldy, disgusting, yet sacred bedtime blanket.

Just accept it. Sleep is optional. Vacation regret is forever.

Chapter 8: The Return (And the Emotional Fallout)

You made it home! You should be proud. But now begins the post-travel meltdown phase.

Unpacking? Forget it. The suitcase will sit by the front door until it becomes part of your home decor.

Your kid will suddenly “miss the hotel breakfast,” and you'll swear to yourself you’re never doing this again.

Until next time.