Motherhood and travel: seeing the world through my children’s eyes

Their holiday doesn’t have to look like mine

“Mummy, I’m tired.” “Do we have to go?” “Can we just stay at the hotel?” And there I am thinking: do you people know how much I paid for this activity? We are going.

As adults, we often want to see everything. We have travelled all this way, so we plan the attractions, tours and restaurants, determined to make the most of every day. Children can have another philosophy entirely. You can take them halfway across the world and discover that the hotel swimming pool is more exciting than the attraction you spent weeks planning.

I am thinking about culture and everything I want them to see. They are thinking about swimming. Motherhood has taught me that their experience doesn’t have to look like mine to be meaningful. Sometimes I need to stop managing the holiday and experience it with them.

The imperfect moments become our story

Of course we have quarrelled on holidays. There have been mornings when somebody didn’t want to wake up, activities somebody didn’t want to do, and negotiations over food, clothes, sleep and leaving the hotel. I have certainly thought: I planned all of this for you people.

Yet those are rarely the things I remember most. I remember their faces when they saw something for the first time, the laughter, sitting together after a long day and conversations that probably would never have happened at home. Even the little disagreements have become part of our family story.

Meeting different versions of my children

At home, there is school, work and always something that needs to be done. Travel takes us out of that familiar routine, and suddenly I notice more. I see what makes them curious, who is adventurous and who needs reassurance. I hear their opinions about places, people and food. Sometimes they surprise me completely.

As they grow older, our journeys are changing. Their questions, conversations and interests change too. I know there will come a time when “Mummy, I don’t want to wake up early” becomes “Mum, I’m travelling with my friends.” That thought makes me treasure these trips differently.

Learning to leave an afternoon empty

I love a good itinerary. Learning not to overplan has taken time. Children have taught me that a family holiday sometimes needs something very important: nothing. An empty afternoon, a morning without an alarm, time at the pool or a walk with nowhere particular to go.

It is easy to travel a long way and recreate the pressure we hoped to escape. Wake up. Hurry. Get dressed. The driver is waiting. Next activity. Next destination. Eventually everyone is exhausted, including Mummy. I am learning that seeing less can sometimes mean experiencing more.

A world beyond everyday life

I want my children to encounter different people, languages, landscapes, cultures and ways of living. I want unfamiliar places to encourage curiosity rather than fear, and I want them to respect people who live differently from us.

I hope they grow confident moving through airports and finding their way in new places. I want them to appreciate home while knowing there is a world beyond it, and possibilities within that world. Some of those lessons become clearer when we go and experience them together.

Sometimes Mummy needs a holiday too

Family travel and personal travel are not always the same thing. I can love travelling with my children and still occasionally need a journey where nobody calls “Mummy!” There is nothing wrong with that.

Travelling alone allows me to rest differently, move at my own pace and sit somewhere quietly. It reminds me that, alongside the responsibilities and roles, there is still a woman inside the mother. Returning to ourselves occasionally can help us return to our children with more to give.

One day, these trips will become stories

My children may not remember every hotel or restaurant. They may never appreciate every early morning I insisted on. But I hope they remember that we went, explored and laughed; that sometimes we quarrelled and five minutes later we were eating together; and that their mother wanted them to see the world.

Whatever went wrong and however tired we became, we were creating a family history, one journey at a time. Children grow unbelievably fast. Perhaps our greatest souvenirs are the moments they carry with them long after they have forgotten where we put the photographs.