You can plan, you can pre-visualize, you can summon all the good vibrations in your power. And still, family vacations can be a mess of whining and laughing, fighting and fun.
Maybe it's just that my expectations were too high. I had been, after all, falling asleep for the past couple of weeks, iPhone in hand, scrolling through Redfin listings of mountain cabins in Lake Arrowhead. Fantasizing about owning the perfect retreat to satisfy the wife's need for trees and mountain air. A plot of land for the kids to enjoy the outdoors away from the concrete and traffic. Assuming this weekend up to the mountains went well, maybe a little vacation home was in the cards.
So no pressure, right?
We had originally planned a trip during winter break, but the 6-year-old caught a cold and we were housebound for most of that week. The seed was planted, though, and the Mrs. and I were keen on seeing the idea through. So later that week, we booked a small cabin in Lake Arrowhead for Presidents Day Weekend.
And for the days and weeks in the run-up, I'd be at work, sneaking Google Street View tours through the winding mountain roads, imagining early morning strolls through the woods.
We made it up to the cabin by noon on Saturday. It was an easy drive. We'd gone more than half way before the 3-year-old started negotiating for an iPad movie.
But as we headed up the winding incline to the top of the San Bernadino mountains, I kept finding myself saying "This is really pretty!" I was genuinely impressed, but also trying to prime everyone for a good time. Totally dad-like, I know. And probably overbearing.
The cabin was nice. Cluttered and quaint. It clung to the steep hillside on 2'x4' stilts, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous about one of the kids taking a tumble down to the ravine below. I kept a close watch on them as they curiously circled the outside perimeter of the cabin.
It smelled good. Cool air and pine trees.
We went down to Lake Arrowhead Village for what was supposed to be a mellow afternoon. And it was... crowded. Damn crowded. The kids had fun feeding the ducks on the lake. And we got suckered into buying them tickets to ride a little swing and train at the Lollipop Park fun zone.
Sevenju said that as she waited for 20 minutes in line at the ice cream store, the teens behind her kept talking about how high they were.
Tourist traps suck.
The next morning, we woke up early and drove 20 minutes to the tubing hill right as they opened. We grabbed our inner-tubes and charged down the mountain. I was blown away by the 6-year-old, as she pushed herself head-first down the steepest section, showing no fear.
That morning, we all had a blast. We woke up early enough the beat the crowds. And even though the kids both tired themselves out to the point of angry delirium, it was hard not to chalk it up as a success.
We celebrated at a nearby diner with some pancakes, eggs, and hash browns.
Finally, after recharging at the cabin for a couple hours, we ventured back out to the Heap's Peak Arboretum for an easy hike around the woods. The kids started melting down. "When are we going home?" one of them asked. The other cried and whined for some rocks to climb.
We salvaged the rest of the day with a movie night for the kids, then another for me and Sevenju.
Before we took off for home the next morning, I made everyone a pancake breakfast. I was so proud of myself for pre-packing the dry ingredients... and in a mason jar! How quaint. Of course neither of the kids liked them.
And that kind of sums it up.
Like I said, maybe it was a case of my outsized expectations meeting the reality of venturing up to the high altitude with the wife, and our 6- and 3-year-olds. I mean, compared to our last little family vacation, this was a huge step forward.
But even still, it was a whole lot of fighting and whining and short-tempers and hurt feelings.
I mean, maybe we're pushing this family vacation thing because for both the Mrs. and me, family vacations hold such a central, warm and fuzzy place in our hearts. So there's this desire, this hope that we can do something similar for our kids. You know, create lifelong memories that will form their emotional core.
Again, no pressure, huh?
I read somewhere recently that one of the secrets to happiness was lowering your expectations. My first response was to think "how sad." "How mediocre." But maybe there's something to it.
That without my realizing it, I'd put all this pressure on this three-day excursion, on the wife and kids, to be relaxed and relaxing, to be enjoying every minute, every second. And who needs that?
So onward we push, planning some more getaways this upcoming spring and summer. Hoping to strike that right balance of organization and flexibility.
In the meantime, I need a vacation.
