A Balanced Perspective: Why we Travel With Our Children

This morning we woke up--after a five day trip to visit family in LA--and Kai asked why we have a mini-house. He wanted to know why we didn't have a bigger house like his cousins Zach and Alec. After swallowing my tears, I scavenged through my brain to consider how to answer this innocent two year old question.

Of course it was easy to say that we didn't have as much stuff as his affluent cousins; or that we cannot afford a gigantic house in the San Fernando Valley; that we would rather spend our money on traveling and eating well and his college fund than on a mortgage that would leave us house poor.

But the real answer was harder to explain to a child. Why don't we have what other people have? Why don't we live in a house with a squat toilet like the people we saw in Thailand? Why don't we live with fifteen people in two bedrooms like some families in Mexico? Why don't we live in a mud hut and clean our floors with cow dung? And yes, why don't we live in a multimillion dollar abode with every toy known to man?

And this brings me to why we travel with our children. If all Kai saw was the million dollar houses in LA or San Francisco, he would compare himself to others and always search for something that may be unattainable. Not to say that we travel to third world countries to feel better about our relative affluence, but on some level if we do not show our children that we live a very luxurious life compared to the people around the globe, we will end up with children who believe they deserve everything-- possibly without appreciating what they already have.

All I could do this morning to answer Kai's query was hug him and remind him that we have all we need in our "mini" house, which is actually a rented flat in San Francisco. We have more than toys, more than fancy appliances and too many bathrooms; sure we have one bathroom, hand me down furniture, paint peeling off the walls, and loud upstairs neighbors, but we also have a world view.

I just hope that as Kai gets older and begins comparing himself to others with the vengeance typical of youth that he will have a balanced place of comparison. In the end, that is all I can afford to give him.

Mommy and the Boobas

I never thought I would still be nursing my son, Kai when he could say, "I want boob-a." Of course, he is two and not say, seven, an age that some cultures nurse their children until. But still, as a toddler he no longer easily fits into my lap or is able to sleep spooning my breast. Rather, he curls up like a cat to get his fix, squirms and kicks, twists and kneads, until there are days when I understand why moms wean their children.

However, I have never been so glad to be nursing as when we recently traveled to Thailand. To write about the benefits of nursing a toddler on a 25 hour plane journey seems a little redundant. You can easily imagine how we were calmly able to deal with uncomfortable sleep, air pressure, boredom, and hunger (even kids hate airplane food). But the real benefits of nursing came from Kai having his favorite brand of comfort while we were in a new, often overwhelming, place.

I was able to nurse him through the mental Chatuchak Weekend Market as well as during a very bumpy speedboat ride to Ko Phi Phi. When jet lag had him turned upside down, he could have booba to help him fall back asleep at 3am. And when the overly friendly Thai ladies would grab him to say hello, or try to force him to eat all varieties of sweet fruits, he could instead latch on and feel more comfortable.

Sure, I got looks as I walked through the airport, with Kai in the Ergo, content to nurse. People laughed, pointed, and some even tried to touch my breasts. But to be frank, I get the same stares here in San Francisco, so that didn't bother me.

What really reinforced my ability to nurse was seeing how easily Kai can travel, adapt and take in a new frenetic culture. Surely it is not all because of the boobas, likely mommy and daddy play a part as well as Kai's nature. But I like to think that nursing has helped mold Kai into a good little traveler.

Have we graduated?

As I stared at the collection of books, train toys, wipes, clothing and snacks overflowing from our backpacks, I had to ask the question: Have we, like most of our thirtysomething friends, graduated from traveling with backpacks? Most of my one-time-backpacker peers now sport those trendy black rolling suitcases, with cute little luggage tags. Eddie and I, however, have yet to ascent to those heights.

Often I find myself wishing for more space to bring more crap--I mean wouldn't my life in Bangkok be better with a cotton pantsuit scored at an Egyptian market??? But inevitably, I always end up piling heaps of clothing back in the closet and only bringing what fits in my trusty circa 1994 blue backpack.

You wouldn't know it by the looks of me, but my travel tastes have shifted. Take, for example, our upcoming trip to Thailand: We plan to stay in the luxe Dusit Thani hotel in Bangkok (a steal for under a hundred bones), and then fly to Phuket to enjoy a one-bedroom beachfront villa at the Indigo Pearl Hotel (another steal we found on Agoda) and finally,we'll wrap up the "adventure" with another plush villa at Railay Bay Resort. I always have this feeling of being the kid sneaking into a casino when I approach these lovely hotels wearing a dirty backpack that has seen better days.

Yet, I can't bring myself to retire the old gal. Sure, it can be said that I have long relationships with the various "things" that mean a lot to me. My first car "Me Amiga" lasted a decade; I tend to fashion the same clothes way longer than I should; and I have sported the same combat boots for longer than I will ever admit. But can I let go of my backpack? She and I have traveled to over thirty countries together, with her guarding my belongings from dusty deserts, torrential tropical storms, aggro baggage handlers--she even lived to tell of a small tear in her zipper during a month-long trek through Brazil (you've got to love Eagle Creek's lifetime warranty). She joined me on my first solo transcontinental trip, when I circumnavigated the globe on a ship, when I got married, and even when I gave birth.

But as I look at her now, bursting at the seams, carrying goods for myself and little Kai, I wonder if this will be her last major journey. And if so, does this mean I am all grown up?