Tutorial: Family Outing FAIL in 10 Easy Steps (complete with cell phone pics!)

Tired of all those family outings that "go really well" and often result in everyone having "an amazing time"? Then this is for you.  

Step 1: Decide on a Saturday afternoon at 3 PM that you should definitely go on a family bike ride through some tulip fields, because after all, you live in Holland now, and there's bound to be some tulip fields around somewhere. Right?

Step 2: Spend 3 minutes consulting Mr. Google, read some random blog with vague details about a super fantastic bike ride someone went on once. It's just that easy to spend as little time possible preparing!

Step 3: Take a "30 minute" trip to a nearby charming city, lugging 3 kids and 2 bikes on the metro, and then a train. Make sure it takes 3 times as long though. It's crucial that you don't forget that part.

Step 4: It's helpful when you arrive in said charming city, if there is a big street festival going on that you didn't know about, and there are thousands of people wandering the streets, and most of those streets are blocked off. Did I say helpful? Sorry, I meant super helpful.

Step 4.5: Try your absolute best to get separated in the crowds and winding, medieval streets. I cannot stress enough how essential this is. Because trying to navigate through masses of people on a bike while talking on a cell phone in a place you don't know in order to find your spouse who doesn't know where they are or how to get you there is a total blast. It's just like playing Where's Waldo in real life, except with less stripes and more marital discord. Are we having fun yet?!

Step 5: Remember the charming city part in Step 3? Well, when you finally find each other, get through the crowds and find yourself on the outskirts of this adorable place, do not allow your children to be happy about the quaint and picturesque surroundings. Make sure they are whining, and cold. Check to see if you brought extra warm clothes for them. No? Good thinking.  That will increase their unhappiness by at least 6 fold, which is really the minimum level for an adventure like this.

Step 6: Get a little lost. Go ahead, turn down that random road. Poorly placed signs really go a long way to facilitate this. Also, not having a map. Really, when it comes down to it, no maps and no signs are the key factors in getting lost. Remember that. And if you forget, you can always ask someone in a Tourist Information Center for directions, because they are sure to be no help whatsoever. In fact, it's part of their job description.

Step 7: Hungry? Well, you will be if you ate all the snacks on the train, and you've been biking for over  an hour. Good job.

Step 8: Decide to turn around before you reach any actual tulip fields, because it's been 3 hours since you left the house and it's going to get dark soon and no one has had dinner and everyone is freezing. If you actually reach your destination, you have failed. *Hot tip: beg your kids to ask you "when are we going home?" every 2 minutes.

Step 9: Take a picture by some one's yard so you can post it on your blog with the caption, Beautiful ride through some tulip fields. We're in Holland after all!  

Step 10: Repeat Step 2, only in reverse, and try to make a scene this time. Go for something like spilling hot chocolate while hefting your bikes on the train. That's always a good one-- bonus if someone gets 1st degree burns on their hand.

Optional step: When you arrive home, go to your favorite closest Japanese noodle bar, and congratulate yourself on another successful family adventure. If that sounds too idyllic, I have two words for you: chopstick swords.

Don't be discouraged by the deceptive simplicity of it all. Seriously, with a little incompetence and unpreparedness, anyone can do it. Just go for it. It's not that hard to have the most. mediocre. day. ever!

Traveling With Kids: Lessons Learned

Not being an expert on traveling with children, naturally I feel inclined to write a blog post about it. Mostly,  I want to write down a few things that I've learned from our last few trips, so as to not have to relearn them on our next trip. Much of these tips are geared towards a big-city tour in Europe, where there will be lots of museums, cathedrals, and other things not at all enticing for children, but many can be applied to most any vacation with children in general (the words "vacation" and "children" being used together do not necessarily imply a mutual correlation).

• Start things off with something exciting. For example, in Paris, go to the Eiffel Tower first, then take a boat tour. In London, I would also start with a boat tour, and climb to the top of St. Paul's. Do the things that give you a good feel for the city, and that will give you a spectacular view. In Amsterdam, ride a boat through the canals, climb the Westerkerk tower, and then head over to Vondelpark (on your bikes of course). It will probably all go downhill from there, but you know what they say about Alpha and Omega. Well, actually it's really just about the Alpha. 
• You will be tired the next day. Even if you're not dealing with jet lag. Don't plan for anything early, and feel good about yourself if you get out the door by noon. Pat yourself on the back and tell yourself you are awesome.
• Kids need cameras on vacations. This I learned by default: in Paris, nothing made our kids happier than getting a hold of our cell phones to take pictures.  And of course, nothing made us more nervous than our kids having free reign with our cell phones. For our next trip, each kid will get an inexpensive digital camera to take blurry pictures with to their heart's content. I think it's Newton's 4th law that a body that is preoccupied with taking pictures will forget to to whine and complain that it doesn't like all the things it is taking pictures of. Can't argue with science, people.
• Along those lines, little backpacks for each child are a must. They can carry their own water bottles, snacks, and cameras. And if your kids are anything like mine, they might pick up a few tourist pamphlets, give or take a hundred.
• Another thing kids need for their own: money. Having a small amount of spending money for souvenirs and treats that they they get control over just might make them realize, miraculously, that they don't actually reallyreallyreallyreallyreally need that 10th miniature Eiffel tower after all.
• Bribery. I recommend it, but it needs to be specific. I purchased a few little items they could earn each day (travel puzzles/games, small Lego sets, moon sand), and then spent the whole day dangling it for good behavior. The entire day was just too much. Instead, keep the bribery specific to the places and times you want them to behave. "I have a small prize at the hotel for anyone who doesn't say 'stupid' or 'poopy' while we're in the Lourve." Or, "we're going to be riding the Metro a lot today, and we'll get ice cream this afternoon for all kids who pretend to be a deaf-mute on the train." I don't really love the cheap toys as prizes, but they ended up keeping them occupied at night, which is a big improvement from jumping all over the beds. And definitely use whatever local treats and desserts are being sold in little roadside stands.
• I know they are super touristy, but the Hop On/Hop Off bus tours are actually a great way to see a city with kids. Chances are you're going to want to see most of the things on the route anyway, and you might be surprised that your kids actually listen to the prerecorded audio tour for a few minutes before they start climbing all over everything. It's not necessarily inexpensive, but I really regretted that we didn't do this in Paris. Riding the metro might have been more efficient, but you don't get to see the city underground.
• After 3 days of sight-seeing, they are going to need a day to chill. It stinks to be in an amazing location and have your kids need a day to decompress in the hotel, but bring a book, catch up on some emails, and let them watch a movie.  Take turns with your spouse going out on your own, and then find a park to let them play. 
• If you'll be going to a museum, check their website for any kid's activities or packets that they offer (usually for free or very low cost). The museums in London are fantastic this way; the museums in Paris? Not so much.
• When your kid throws a mammoth tantrum in the middle of some public, famous attraction, do not acknowledge that you are related to them in any way. Just keep repeating, "Don't worry, little girl, I'll help you find your mother."

As for ideas of actual things to do with your kids on vacation, I love My Little Nomads, CiaoBambino, and Kids Can Travel for ideas.  Also, feel free to comment with your own tips of the trade. It takes a cyber-village to take your kids on vacation, after all. 

Paris With Kids: The Story of a Regrettable Family Vacation

Every family has a bad vacation story. Our recent trip to Paris wasn't our worst, but it wasn't our finest either. In 2010, Mark and I took the kids on a road trip that we fondly call the Western States Rotavirus Tour. That was a bad vacation. Puking your way through most of the Western US, and passing out in Disneyland does not make for happy, pleasant memories. But it does get you a wheelchair and a pass to the front of the line. In case you don't believe me, I offer this:

Moving on to Paris. Lovely, amazing Paris. Fantastic bakeries. Incredible art. Rich history. Everything that is entirely unimpressive to our kids in other words. Also not impressive: our traveling skills. I should say, our lack of traveling skills. And with all the whining, crying, and fighting, we may have done some irreparable damage to US-French relations. It didn't help that Mia woke up sick on the morning we were left. Actually, at first it did. Weirdly, Mia gets more easy going and sweet-natured the worse she feels. So at first it was great. We had to kick Nate out of the stroller and carry around a barf bag, but we spent a perfectly enchanted evening at the Eiffel tower (and now have 9 Eiffel Tower chotchkies to prove it). As far as anyone could tell, we were just a nice family who gets along on vacation and enjoys buying overpriced, pointless souvenirs (as if there any other kind).

But as the trip progressed, Mia started feeling better and better, and the rest of us kept wishing she was still sick. Not that she alone ruined everything. Certainly none of us were getting enough sleep, and even mouth-watering croissants can't be your only form of sustenance for too long. Wait, I take that back. Yes, yes, they can. Generally however, Sam and Nate are usually game for whatever we drag them along to, assuming there are adequate snacks and bribes provided. Mia, on the other hand, will make you pay for one excruciating hour of being dragged through the Louvre, and will continue to make you regret it even the next day when you take her to an wonderful(ly expensive) little park with rides, animals, treats, playgrounds, and not a single piece of art or culture in sight. She won't enjoy that outing, oh no, or let anyone else for that matter, and will end up screaming at everyone until someone (who may or may not have been me) screams back and we leave the park with the majority of the family in tears. That's just speaking generally though. I wouldn't know any of the details because I've pushed them deep, deep down where they'll be sure to fester and turn into some obsessive compulsive disorder in a few years.

Mark and I were discussing what was worse, dealing with whining or vomit while traveling. My initial stance was that repeatedly cleaning up barf from car seats was way worse, hands down, any day. Mark was team whining. I still disagree, but admit he has a point. External viral threats make you miserable, but you rally together and get through it. Internal bickering and conflict? I thought we might not speak to each other again.

It's guilt-inducing to admit to a sub-par vacation in Paris. The fact that we even have the chance to travel there, and so easily (3 1/2 hours by train) is mind-blowing. We're traveling in Europe. touring 900 year old cathedrals, standing in front of master-pieces, and arguing in front of UNESCO World Heritage sights. I'm in awe of how incredibly lucky we are. After all, not everybody gets to have such bad vacations.

Time for some pictures. If it makes you feel better, even if we look happy, we were probably miserable inside.

(Don't let these happy, hugging children fool you. 
Three minutes later they were trying to kill each other. )

You know you've been married a long time when you try 

to take a picture kissing in the most romantic city in 

the world, but mostly just feel really silly. 

Fighting in a park. Ah, how sweet. 

My favorite picture from the trip: Nate asleep in front of the Venus de Milo. 

And Mia, when you read this when you are much older, I want you to understand that we love you, and we hope that one day you have a child that makes your vacations just as miserable. (As your parents we only wish the very best revenge on you.)

The Art of Squelching Childhood Dreams or Why We're Now Members of the Royal Dutch Riding Association

So on Saturday I took Mia to her first horseback riding lesson, and I can honestly say that I never thought I would be typing those words in a non-fictional setting. But desperate times call for dressage classes, as I like to say now.


You see, there's a war being waged at our house, and this equine development is just the latest counter-defensive strategic use of special force I've employed ever since I became an enemy to my children's happiness.


It wasn't always like this. I used to be interested in making my kids happy. In fact,  I once even went so far as to read an article online about the 3 Essential Ingredients of a Happy Childhood, or something to that effect, but was interrupted by my kids who were apparently unaware that one of the essential ingredients for a happy mother is to never interrupt her when she's wasting time on the internet.


It went something like this: 


(Me: reading)


"Mom! Look at me doing this thing 50 times in a row!" 


"Oh really?"


"Mom! When can we go to Disneyland?"


"Uh huh. That's great."


"Mom! Can I get a Twitter account? Jazlyn has one!" 


"Leave me alone! Can't you see I'm reading about how to make you happy?! And seriously, Jazlyn? That is a ridiculous name."  


And that was the end of that. But in case you're interested, I do remember the author's cute summation of the three vitally important, bare minimum requirements to prevent your child from becoming an ax murderer, or a reality TV star. They are: Time (unstructured play), Mud (outdoors), and Livestock (pets).  From what little I read, you should put your children in a barn and check on them in about 18 years. They'll be just fine!


But according to my kids, the author is at least 1/3 correct, and this is the part where the happiness war comes in.


It seems my children are convinced that having a pet is essential to their happiness, well-being, and ability to play nicely and do their chores without being nagged. But I'm convinced that not having a pet is essential to my happiness, well-being, and ability to not nag kids to do things like help care for their pet. Not to mention that the 2nd essential ingredient for a happy mother is not having to clean up any more poop than is absolutely necessary.


I admit that my stance doesn't make much sense, considering that I come from a family that picked up neighborhood strays, and indulged every childhood whim for a dog, cat, hamster, rat, bird, or bearded dragon (we had all of those). For Christmas the year before last, my sister compiled a list of all our former family pets and their cause of demise (because these are the kinds of gifts one gives in my family), and there was a alarmingly high incidence of poisonings, strangulations, and deaths by rolling down the stairs in a lunchbox. So perhaps I've seen too many animals die in my lifetime, or maybe I just got that need out of my system at an early age. It could be that I'm intimidated by the process of getting a pet in another country. But I'm pretty sure it's just a poop thing.


So when I get the "can we go the pet store today?" or "when can I get a guinea-pig?" questions, and it's my happiness vs theirs, the battle is on. Insert your favorite war metaphor here, because I certainly don't know any. All I know is, crushing your child's happiness takes a remarkable amount of concentration and skill. It's kind of an art form. It's much harder than going out and just buying them a guinea-pig, let me assure you.


It's important to reply in such a way that they don't actually realize you are saying no.


When we lived in the States, I would say, "What are you talking about? We already have pets! Remember the Ferrel cats that live under the deck? Just be careful, they could give you a disease."


This one works well, "I trapped a spider under a cup yesterday. Why don't you go see if it's still alive."


Avoidance is one of the best tactics: "This is not an appropriate time to talk about this. Now can you please shut the bathroom door?" (3rd essential ingredient to a happy mother? Peeing in privacy.)


Or, taking a cue from Jack Handy, "Oh honey, guess what? I went to the pet store today, and it had burned down and all the animals were dead. Bummer. Hey, I know, let's take riding lessons instead."


Which leads me to my current tactic: stalling. I admit, I'm in dangerous, last-resort territory. When I found out that there was a stable in the middle of Amsterdam that offered riding lessons, I didn't think I would ever try to use that information as an empty peace-offering in an emotional high-stakes battle with my kids. It took a while to realize it could actually be a weapon in my arsenal for dream squelching. But when I did, Mia played right into my hands. So much so that I'm pretty sure now she  wants a pony instead.


I think my next move will be to actually put my kids in a barn for the next 18 years. I should check with the stable; maybe they offer that service.


All that to explain these pictures.

Oh my, what have I gotten myself into?


Stay tuned, soon we'll be signing Sam up for sailing lessons, and joining the Amsterdam High Society club, all to avoid getting a Wii. Anything to keep my kids happily unhappy.

List #3: Snapshots of the Uninspiring Variety

I was overtaken with an inexplicable need to capture the very mundane details of my life one day recently. And could I withhold such mundanity from the world? No I could not. Here's a little photographic tour of our apartment one day last week.

1. Nate eats at least 300 pretzels a day. Correction: Nate eats the salt off of at least
300 pretzels a day. That kid's blood pressure has got to be through the roof. 

2. Discarded snow gear. At this point the snow
 had been melted for 4, maybe 5 days. 

3. The laundry room master bedroom in it's natural state.
P.S. I love those windows.

4. Paperwork: my nemesis, especially when most of it is in Dutch.

6. Nate's ability to desalinize an entire bag of pretzelsin less than an hour is
matched only by his ability to trash a room in the same amount of time.

7. I walked past this vase one day and noticed someone had
dropped this little duck in it. He looks happy, I think.

8. Special delivery: The Feelings Book for Girls. Yep.

More things I don't have pictures of, but are mundane.

9.  It turns out I'm disabled.  One day I was reading a little funny blurb that mentioned Delayed Sleep Phase Syndrome, and my first thought was ha ha, if I was going to make a politically correct joke about my insomnia that's exactly what I would call it. But suddenly I thought ohhhhhh, I bet that's actually a thing, and I have it.  Sure enough, thanks to Google and WebMD, I can start applying for a handicap placard for my bike. Yessssss.

10. I've finally picked a New Year's Resolution (what can I say, procrastinating is kind of my thing). There is a piano in the lobby of the Central library in Amsterdam, with a sign inviting anyone with a fair amount of skill to tickle its ivories (interestingly, libraries are different here in one major way, in that you are not expected to be quiet). My goal is to work up the nerve to go play on that piano some time this year, and hope they don't enforce the skill thing too strictly. So, should I play Chopsticks or Heart and Soul? 

11. This is not so much mundane, as kind of creepy: I had a dream that a gay, wealthy, old man with a highly contagious skin disease (Maurice Sendak? warning: link not suitable for kids) threw a party to find a trophy wife to inherit all his money. All the hot girls said no. I said yes, and immediately contracted leprosy. But it was worth it to be able to put my kids through college, and to buy that island to live on for the rest of my quarantined, filthy rich life. So the answer to whether I would consider marrying entirely for money? Sub-conscious Me says yes. No judging; Maurice and I had a deep intellectual connection. 

12. In another post, I mentioned Sam being sick and my hope that no one else followed suite. No such luck. Nate started throwing up within a few hours. Funny, the 3 year old managed to make it in the bowl every time, but the 6 year old? I think he threw up everywhere but the bowl, every time. Thanks Sam. 

That's it for the Bardsleyland edition of the February Blahs.  How about you? 

List #2: Seen in Amsterdam

Things I saw in Amsterdam this week:

• 2 tourists rolling joints in a park. After 7 months, it was about time.
• A smart mother checking her kid's shoes before going inside. If Amsterdam should be famous for anything, it's dog poop. It's true what they say: the Dutch are very tolerant. Of poop all over the place. And I will never understand this particular idiosyncrasy. 
• My clock at midnight which read 0:00. Still getting used to military time.
• My new favorite sandwich (seen and eaten): a warm roll or ciabatta with goat cheese, honey, toasted pecans, and roasted pear. Oh my. 
• About a billion gloves littering the streets. People of Amsterdam: if you're missing a glove, go walk outside. You'll find another one, or 20. Just watch out for the dog poop. 

List #1: Things to Do

1. Find a doctor and dentist in Amsterdam. Done. Time to complete: 7 months. 
2. Write a blog post. In progress. (Congratulate yourself for multi-tasking.)
3. Work through pile of laundry backing up after Sam's bout with a stomach virus this week. 
4. Pray to the vacation gods that no one else gets sick on our trip to Paris next week. 
5. Plan our trip to Paris next week. 
6. Put away pile of movies from Sam's sick days. 
7. Ask other people if they still cry every single time they see the opening musical montage in UP. If not, try not to feel like a loser. 
8. If you still feel like a loser, watch the opening scene of Finding Nemo. Have another good cry. 
9. Thank the movie gods for Pixar. 
10. Now, have a good long stare at that book on your desk. You know the one... The one about having The Big Talk with your 9 year old. Stare at it some more. Now, pick it up.
11. Practice saying things like "beautiful secret" and "special kind of hug" without giggling. 
12. Seriously, practice some more because you can't even type that without giggling. 
13. This is getting to be a long list. Make another list of everything you can put off until later. 
14. Great! You've got some time on your hands now.
15. Don't think about things like complicated expat taxes, or French people who are mean to obnoxious American tourists. 
16. Instead think about organizing that one closet, or unpacking that last box of picture frames you thought you couldn't possibly live without. 
17. Now, see #13. 
18. Check Facebook and Pinterest. If it's on your list, it's not wasting time. 
19. Try not to feel silly when you "like" someones status or pin. 
20. And, yes, that was actually a huge waste of time. 
21. Curse the Internet. Use lots of pseudo-swears. 
22. Speaking of swearing, learn some French swears. That could help with #15.
23. Try to find a picture to go with this blog post. 
24. Here's one:
25. Include a link for Yarn Bombing.
26. Try not to waste time on Wikipedia. 
27. Fail.
28. More pseudo-swears.
29. Twenty nine things? Think about how busy you are.  No wonder it took you 7 months to make a dentist appointment. Reassure yourself that it has nothing to do with being a loser who still cries at Pixar movies. 
30. See #8.