I love to travel with my kids. But while relaxing moments can happen on a trip with young children, the overall experience is often far more taxing. Here are some of my top family travel tips on surviving and thriving during your next adventure with the littles:
Be early
Everything takes longer with kids in tow. Some little hiccup always seems to occur, be it extra fuss about a toy, an emergency visit to the restroom or something else. I’m a bit of a punctuality nut, but just two weeks ago our family nearly missed our flight to Disney World. We ended up being the last people seated on the plane — first for me. So remember, with kids, always leave and arrive earlier than you think you need to.
Bring distractions
Of my family travel tips, this one is essential on longer journeys. Pack the tablets and headphones, obviously. Honestly, there’s nothing wrong with giving kids iPads or the like on a multi-hour plane ride no matter what some say. Looking out the window gets a bit dull even for me, and I love to fly. Also, if your trip includes long waits in lines, like during our family’s recent trip to Disney World, tablets can be a plus. But don’t rely on just those. Mid-trip for us, one tablet broke (full-screen smash). Our 5-year-old daughter needed something else, and even our 8-year-old son wanted something other than his tablet. Break out the coloring books (Crayola Color Wonder are particularly helpful), the fidget spinners and other similar toys you can keep in your pocket. And don’t forget those easily portable snacks. You will need them all!
Pack light, but pack smart
You don’t need to bring everything to enjoy a trip with kids. Yet, some of the most important items are often overlooked. A reporter at Consumer Reports recently asked me for the most indispensable item for a diaper bag that no one remembers — my response, without hesitation, was toenail clippers. They’re compact, easily pass through airport security, and come in handy for the many times we suddenly need to cut something be it a travel packet of Tylenol or the packaging for a toy the kids are begging to play with right now. Yeah, pack smart.
Patience, patience, patience
It’s so easy to get swept up in the sights, sounds and new experiences on a family trip that you might not realize your kids are struggling a bit. When we traveled to Ireland last summer, we drove a lot from place to place, and moved almost as much from hotel to hotel. We didn’t build in enough downtime, and — boy — did the kids let us know. When you’re on the road, there are different stimuli, different foods, different beds and more. Everyone’s going to have their rough moments. Being patient is critical.
Don’t forget yourself
This might seem opposed to the last one, but it’s not. Parents traveling with kids need to remember that these trips are for moms and dads too. Some trips have built-in breaks, maybe a childcare center on a cruise ship or a family member traveling with you who can give you a break. Even if you don’t, find time for yourself. If there’s something you want to do, don’t sacrifice it because the kids are being grumpy. This can be a juggling act, but remember you’re the one paying for this trip, so the kids shouldn’t have all the fun.
Laugh at the crises
This final one of my family travel tips is the hardest to follow, but it honestly helps a lot. Some bad stuff, more than likely, is going to happen. On our Disney trip, we brought along our au pair. This was only her second-time ever on a plane. We all had only carry-ons with us, and put them in the overhead bins. When we arrived at the Orlando airport, someone got off the plane with her bag. Crisis! We reported the bag and talked to the airline, but in the end, we finally just left. What could we do? My wife and I felt awful, but also assured our au pair she’d have lots of extra shopping time to replenish the clothes she’d lost. Then, lo and behold, the airline called and the bag was returned! It’s not always that simple, but if a crisis happens, try to step back a bit and shrug. It sucks, but you’re still on vacation. And vacations are adventures, after all.
What family travel tips do you have?
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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.
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I spent three wonderful weeks on a family trip to Ireland this past August. When, like me, you have two young children with you, a trip like that isn’t exactly a vacation. It’s an adventure.
Travel puts a lot of stress on kids and families. So while there are sights to see, wonders to explore and memories to be made, there are also many hurdles to overcome. One important thing I learned on this trip is that no matter who or what you encounter while traveling, kindness matters.
I’m going to start with the end of the story. We returned home after an eight-hour flight from Dublin to Philadelphia. The time difference was a killer, and there was no food on the plane my kids were willing to eat. My daughter, age 5, sat next to me on that incredibly long, exhausting flight. She’d made it through the plane ride without too much fuss. However, by the time we gathered our baggage in Philly, the stress of the journey and the exhaustion of a three-week trip all came crashing together.
She screamed. She threw a massive tantrum in the terminal. Hungry and exhausted, the one thing my daughter wanted and needed was to hold my hand. I happily offered it despite trying to juggle suitcases. I understood how upset she was and I wasn’t mad at all.
Then a stranger approached us.
This woman marched straight to my daughter and me and announced in a booming voice, “You’re parenting all wrong. You need to beat some sense into that girl.”
WTF.
I didn’t curse. Instead, I told the woman she was wrong and to leave us alone. I was appalled. And angry. This stark, crazy scene felt like a “Welcome back to ‘Murica” moment for us. Because one thing we’d seen in Ireland was a completely different attitude toward children. One I was not accustomed to.
Kindness.
Changes of countries, changes of attitudes
Everywhere we went in Ireland, people bent over backward to be kind and help. It didn’t matter if we were at a playground, in a department store or on a street. People saw that we had kids and treated us with great empathy and compassion.
Two weeks before our encounter with rudeness upon returning home, we had an opposite experience. My 8-year-old son melted down on the streets of Killarney. He’d been refused a lollipop and decided that required staging a tantrum. He lay on the side of the parking lot near some pubs and refused to move. He screamed a bit too. And while my wife and I did our best to handle the situation, strangers came by.
“Is there anything I can do?” said one.
“Oh, I’ve been there,” said another. “So sorry for this, but it’ll get better soon.”
Kindness. Just an attitude of kindness everywhere.
Perhaps it is a cultural thing. Irish laws are different. We quickly noticed every indoor area designed for kids (such as soft play centers) came equipped with a double-locking alarm mechanism to prevent kids from running out or strangers from going in. We noticed every place we went, even the tiniest middle-of-nowhere towns, had handicapped-accessible unisex bathrooms with changing tables — something we once struggled to find in America. Perhaps this mindset toward a “care culture” transcended laws and permeated into the general public?
Kindness comes in many forms
As we explored Ireland, we kept encountering that same kindness again and again.
One restaurant had nothing the kids wanted to eat. The chef marched out, offered to make something just for them, and soon did.
Our kids appeared bored while we checked into one hotel. A worker spotted them and then hurried over with coloring books.
When we tried taking a tour that was sold out, a stranger offered us his tickets on the spot, noting that I had younger kids than he did.
These were not isolated incidents. They were a pattern of kindness and compassion and understanding that children have different needs, everywhere we went in the country.
Back to that moment in Philly. Perhaps that woman was an isolated example. Or perhaps not. I vented about her rudeness later to a friend in New York. My friend said that three times in the past month someone told her to beat her son. This advice came from strangers who didn’t know her or her kid. The expectation to some is that kid needs and adult needs are the same, therefore kid behaviors and adult behaviors are the same.
I’m no longer mad at the rude woman. I feel sorry for her. And I feel sorry for everyone else who thinks it’s appropriate to say such things to parents. In the future, I wish all people, parents and non-parents alike, would treat others with a bit more kindness.
The world could use some more of it right about now.
Photo by Yan Krukau via Pexels.com
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For seven years I held the best job the world has to offer. It’s the most fun job I can envision, and at times, one of the hardest imaginable.
I’m talking about my happy time as a SAHD: a stay-at-home dad.
For seven years, I was the MAN. The go-to parent for every joy, every heartache, every need. I oversaw food, fitness and fun. We would take “dadventures” — exploring nearby museums, parks, historic sites and more. I raised my son and daughter, loving every moment I spent with them. And life was amazing.
But the pay … it sucked.
This past fall, my daughter, the younger of our kids, enrolled in preschool. At first, I felt free. I’d have more time to focus on the housework, cooking and other responsibilities without feeling rushed all the time. Yet, those wide-open days started feeling a bit …boring. When you’re used to constant noise and attention, the quiet while your children are at school is both empowering and unsettling.
So I started working part-time as a substitute teacher. I enjoyed spending this time in my kids’ schools and even subbing in their classes. Subbing is good for the struggling school systems (I was a full-time teacher before our kids were born) and I liked being able to do it on my terms. School holiday? I’m off too. One kid sick? I don’t take a sub job that day. And so on.
It felt strange working part-time, though. It made me realize I had an even bigger decision looming ahead of me as my children got older: Should I return to work full-time?
I hadn’t had a traditional “office” job in seven years. Would employers even want to talk to me? Realistically, as sexist as it sounds, leaving the workforce for stay-at-home fatherhood is a tough sell to potential future employers.
Another thing to consider: What would I do for work? I didn’t want to go back to teaching, I knew that. And I didn’t know what the job market for my skills would be like. I did know I wanted to try something.
I dove into the job hunt. A hundred applications across months. A handful of interviews that didn’t pan out. And a lot of crickets.
Let me backtrack a moment. When you become an at-home parent, you experience an initial period of limbo when nothing feels right or normal. You’re used to being on someone else’s clock, but now you set the timetable. Rather than a boss who dresses you down, your “boss” is now this little person you have to dress daily. Instead of being surrounded by co-workers and other adults, you are now isolated on Kid Island—sometimes I needed reminding to go outside and be around others.
I thought about that period because here I was in limbo again. I didn’t know what I wanted or how to get there. My kids still mattered the most, but I knew I wanted to be working and earning money. I wanted to still be there for them for intense, amazing play at least a little bit every day. So then, what could I do?
Well, I threw in the job search towel.
Instead, my wife and I decided to open our own business from home, working full-time to make it succeed.
It hasn’t been easy, but here I am … making more money than I ever did as a full-time teacher. I work from home, setting my own timetable. My boss is my wife. She dresses me down often, if you know what I mean, but I keep it PG in front of the kids. And since working from home is a bit isolating, we’re constantly putting ourselves in front of others. I’m even giving a TEDx talk in front of a crowd at Philadelphia next month.
In other words, we took all the elements we liked about my time as an SAHD and kept them then fit work around them. Every day, I spend time with my kids. Every day I spend time with my wife. I work on my terms and on my timeline.
Creating and running your own business won’t be for everyone, but for me, this scenario has been the secret to being “happy after SAHD.” I think the key is to find the priorities that matter to you and find a way to make them happen. My priority is spending time with the kids. Finding an employer willing to work with me on that, with a seven-year “gap” as a SAHD on my resume and a career change in mind … well, maybe my wife’s the only boss who that would work for. Still, find those priorities and stick to them.
Parenting, regardless of your work (or non-work) situation, doesn’t end. In my new position, our dadventures still happen, and so do the dad jokes and, of course, the constant care of kids. It’s possible to do all those, and still work. Being happy after SAHD means embracing the longer-term job of fatherhood, and recognizing that everything else is secondary.
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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.
Photo by Gustavo Fring from Pexels.
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When our family’s child care situation proved unworkable last year, we knew we had to make a major lifestyle change. For us, it was bringing an au pair into our home to help care for our two children.
Au pair comes from the French, meaning “on par” or “equal to.” Agencies we talked to repeatedly stressed this concept. Unlike a live-in nanny, an au pair is expected to be treated more like a family member than a salaried employee.
What is an au pair?
Au pairs in the United States come from a foreign nation to live in your house for one year. They have J-1 student visas which require them to take courses during their time in the States. Host families set their schedules with certain labor law limitations and requirements (up to 45 hours a week, no more than 10 hours a day, paid vacation). Their duties often include watching and teaching the kids, changing diapers, giving baths and bottles, doing the kids’ laundry, and cleaning playrooms. Other responsibilities are up to the family. These may include school pickup or driving them to appointments, tutoring, or preparing meals for the broader house. The key in all of these arrangements is the “equal to” mentality. They’re paid, but not as servants — more like a cousin who’s living with you for a year.
Finding an au pair was an interesting experience in itself. Many au pair agencies exist and, once you sign on with one, the experience becomes similar to the online dating systems my wife and I used to meet one another years ago. We created a profile and looked at candidates through a search portal online. We scrolled through profiles, read compatibility tests, and eventually conducted video interviews. Our candidate pool was a bit unique and limited. As a vegan house, we didn’t want to ask a non-vegetarian to live with us. Yet, we still had many people to consider.
Costs to consider
At this point, you hit the biggest con of the program: the cost.
An au pair costs roughly $10,000. (We found a similar price among the many agencies and programs we investigated.) This money goes to the program itself. It pays for the search, flights to bring your au pair to the States, training, visas and insurance. Beyond that, by law, the family pays the au pair a minimum weekly $200 stipend.
Then come the additional costs. You are responsible for room and in-house boarding. If your au pair drives, your auto insurance will rise. Most host families also cover their helper’s phone. If you plan to travel with your au pair, expect more expenses. You must pay for flights, separate hotel rooms, meals, entertainment tickets, etc. It adds up fast.
Yet, even with all the above, the costs can come out well worth it. A single au pair cares for all your children. If you send two or three kids to daycare, an au pair may be far cheaper.
Our experience so far
Our au pair, Stefanin, arrived from southern Brazil eight months ago. It took a few months for my wife and I, as well as our two kids, to get used to the arrangement. Another person suddenly always being in the house is an adjustment. At times it felt like we’d adopted an older teenager. At other times it felt like we had Mary Poppins, minus the British accent. Note: Many au pairs do not speak English as a first language, which is one reason they join the program — to improve those skills.
The biggest pros for us are the consistency and the flexibility. We set Ste’s schedule before each month, but if something happens, like a child getting sick, we don’t have to cancel having a sitter. Just last week, my wife was out of town. My 4-year-old daughter fell and injured her head. I called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital, but was able to leave my son home, knowing he was fine with Ste. Having that extra adult there made a huge difference for my peace of mind.
I am glad my children get to interact with someone who can teach them a bit about Brazil and South America. I’m glad for the flexibility and reliability in child care she’s provided, allowing my wife and I to take fairly regular date days. I’m also grateful for the help she’s given when we have traveled with her, whether just for a day or for longer trips.
Is an au pair right for your family? It’s a different way to spend a year, and a different option to consider. Not every match works well. Yet, many matches go on to be part of the family forever. The program changed how I parent and live. It helped my kids, too. If it works for you financially, it’s something to consider.
For more information:
- How to hire an au pair (BabyList)
- Pros and cons (Fatherly)
- Pocket money, working hours, contracts (AuPairWorld)
- How to find the right au pair (Cultural Care Au Pair)
Photo by Kampus Production via Pexels
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The pilot walked slowly toward us, his face stern. We’d been sitting nervously for 30 minutes. When we arrived at our seats on the plane, my 4-year-old daughter had thrown up.
We’d been on vacation. A magical vacation, until then. A week of princesses, rides, food, and fun. Yet, the pilot didn’t want a kid onboard who’d thrown up. Never mind that she was by then asleep, and just wanted to go home.
“You have to leave the plane,” he told us.
Anger welled in my gut. Maybe, in the post-pandemic world, a 4-year-old spitting up is an act of war.
Things went downhill fast. I asked if our bags could be pulled from the plane. They told me they’d be in the baggage area, so I hurried down. Not our bags. Ours were on the plane, now flying. I asked if our bags could be held at our destination, and was laughed at. I asked if we could book a flight for the next day, and was told the airline doesn’t fly on the weekends. Pulling up Google, I showed them the listing for their flight the next day. The worker said, “Well, I can’t help you.”
Stranded at an airport with two children, no flights to our home airport (which only this tiny, awful airline served) and no clue what to do next.
I am a calm man. As a parent, I’m the silly guy. The guy who loves to do improv theatre with the kids. The guy who makes silly voices and pretends to be a robot or a tree. As a former teacher and occasional substitute, I know how important a thick skin is. I’ve had kids throw things at my face, and managed to keep my cool.
Yet, at that moment, in the Orlando airport, exhausted, and astonished at the poorest service I’d ever experienced, I broke. The pot of water boiled over into a full explosion.
I screamed at the nearest airline worker until I could barely breathe. I don’t even recall what I said. All I wanted was to get my kids home, and at that moment, I felt that I’d failed as a father.
While I essentially threw a tantrum, in a situation completely outside of my control, I saw my 7-year-old son’s face.
He stared at me with these huge, panicked eyes.
And if I wasn’t completely broken before, I was then.
Use an anchor to hold on to better times
Showing emotion in front of your kids is fine. Hell, put on any Pixar movie, and I’ll be crying long before that final scene. But, how could I show him that things would be OK? How could I reassure him, when I had no idea what to do?
There’s no simple answer. But one strategy I’ve used often is what I call the “anchor” approach.
When you’re feeling adrift, search for one, specific “anchor” to ground you.
An anchor is an intensely positive emotional moment. It’s not something nebulous, or imagined, but a memory, preferably something pretty recent. And it’s something that brings immense joy or happiness. In the airport, the anchor was simple, we’d just had an amazing trip to Disney, and focusing on that experience helped us pivot out of despair and into moving forward. I thought specifically about my son’s face after piloting the Millennium Falcon with me on a Star Wars ride. That grin stretched from hemisphere to hemisphere. And as far as my anchor was concerned, the grin was still there, even days later.
An anchor doesn’t need to be a big vacation. I was substitute teaching recently in my daughter’s class. That night, she looked at me with eyes wider than dinner plates and told me I was the best teacher she’d ever had. That love and that intense memory are the types of emotional anchors that can help a parent weather any storm.
No matter what happens in your life, the anchors are there. They’re moments of joy, of pride, of gratitude. The time your spouse gave you an extra kiss for no reason whatsoever, jump-starting your day. The time your boss paid you an unexpected compliment. The student who drew a picture of you with a smiley face.
The anchors are there.
No matter what you’re going through, try as hard as you can to focus on one positive emotional memory. One of my strongest anchors this week was my little girl holding my hand, saying “I love you, Daddy.” Last week, my wife praised me on my new job, and I recall feeling intense pride. Doesn’t matter what the anchor is, hook onto it. Use it. It’s that simple.
Because even when the world is boiling and seething around you, there are anchors.
We did get home from Orlando. A crazy end to an otherwise amazing trip. And I had a long talk with my son, about why Dad lost his temper. About how Dad’s only human, but he’ll try to do better next time.
He responded, with those same big eyes, saying “Yeah … you’re the best, Dad.”
And I added another anchor to my bag.
Photo by Snapwire via Pexels
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I sat with my cat, Faith, in the waiting room of the veterinarian. Faith, a rescue, had been in our family for nearly 11 of her 14 years. And I’d strongly suspected this might be our last trip together.
During her physical, the vet started listing what was wrong. After four years of hyperthyroidism, she now had detached retinas (leading to blindness), renal failure, massive dehydration, and a troubling abdominal issue that might be cancerous.
“There’s a lot going on,” the doctor said, “and while we can do more tests, there’s not many treatments we can really offer …”
I grew up with cats. And I’d seen pets die. But I’d never had to make that call. I’d never had to decide to end a life. I’d also never had to break the news to my own kids.
My son, 7, understands death. He knew what I meant when I said Faith wasn’t coming home again. He wasn’t there as I held her, or as I looked on when the doctor added a medicine into a syringe. And he wasn’t there as I killed our pet. Yes, it was the humane thing to do, and yes she’d been suffering for months, but I still felt horrible. Like a twisted murderer.
That night, I held my sobbing son in my arms. Grief overrode him, and while I tried to talk to him about the decision, I couldn’t help but wonder about what I’d done. Who am I to play God? At the same time, how will I feel someday if my son has to make the same call about me?
We all live on borrowed time. Eventually, that time runs out. It’s not a pleasant thought, but I couldn’t help but wonder about my final days. Will I deteriorate and my body collapse issue by issue? Will my son, this same sensitive child I’ve raised, determine what to do with his old man’s body? How can I help him understand the nuances and complexities of this decision when I barely understand them myself?
Yes, she was just a cat. She brought joy to our lives before she crossed the so-called “Rainbow Bridge.” Yes, we made the right choice. And yes, in the grand scheme of things, with wars raging, people suffering, a world pummeled by climate change, racism, violence, political uncertainty and more … well, this all seems kind of minor.
Yet, isn’t this minor brush with death the most important reminder of all? If death is the shadow of life we all ignore, maybe it’s good to occasionally recognize that death is there, and not something to be feared. Maybe it’s good to show my son the tears and fears, and hope that within his small, sensitive heart, he has learned that we are all doing the best we can.
I spent the next day setting aside extra time for the kids. We started decorating the house early for Christmas, singing songs and visiting the playground. Not simply to distract, but to remember that in this borrowed time of ours, every moment counts. And as we said goodbye to a pet, we are reminded of how fortunate we are to have such a loving family.
And together, even with the world seeming to succumb to its many ailments around us, we’ll keep focusing on the joys.
Remember pet photo: © Soloviova Liudmyla / Adobe Stock.
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We’ve all seen the meme. “This is fine,” says the dog surrounded by flames. But, of course, at one point or another, we are all not fine.
Just when you think you’ve figured out everything that life could throw at you, it hurls the nastiest curveball ever. How we cope with these unexpected transitions is one of the biggest tests of parenthood.
The most recent curveball I faced came streaking from the mound this spring. Our family had just settled into a really good routine. After being a stay-at-home dad for six wonderful years, I’d gone back to work part-time. With this new juggling of multiple small jobs, we enrolled our daughter in daycare.
All seemed well until she was home sick one day, and acting up.
“What would they say if you acted this way at school?” I asked. Without missing a beat, she responded, “They’d hit me.”
It was such an innocuous response. The answer of a 3-year-old who doesn’t know anything’s wrong. But her answer tore my heart in two.
I tapped into all my training on what to look for when a kid tells you something disturbing and did some digging. I soon realized this was no casual comment and no mistake.
My daughter had been spanked at her daycare. She told us that this was a regular punishment for unwillingness to go or to listen when going to the bathroom. We were appalled.
We confronted the daycare and alerted the authorities. We withdrew her immediately and only then did the full implication of this set in.
I was back to being a full-time dad. Our daughter had suffered a trauma, and we had guilt over ever sending her to daycare at all. My daughter was home now full-time, which affected both my son and wife (who also works from home). The stress grew and grew.
And, as so often happens, life follows a successful curveball with another wicked breaking ball. This time it was a series of illnesses, including a truly difficult hospital stay for my son.
So, here I am, still at the plate, two strikes down, still ready to swing. How do I keep standing? I know life’s next pitch might very well send me back to the dugout. I know I’ve little chance of success. How do I stay positive, with a smile and the “this is fine” mentality when there are flames all around?
Coping through silliness
I think the answer’s different for everyone. For me, I knew I needed something to latch onto. Both during the COVID-19 pandemic — one of the most trying of times for all parents, not just me — and this recent spat of bad luck, I found myself grasping for joy and hope. Hope is often portrayed as this flimsy, fragile emotion, but it’s really the opposite. It’s the layer of diamonds beneath the shaky crumbs of insecurity. And my answer both then and now has been silliness and dance.
Embracing the silliness in life is something I’ve written about before. It’s continued to work. Goofy voices (and Mickey and Donald, too), silly walks (Monty Python eat your heart out), or just plain pun fests (pun-ishment, indeed) are all avenues for moving forward. A forced smile is still a smile. And forced smiles do the strangest things. They spread. The more I smile, the happier my daughter is, and the happier my entire family is.
I will interrupt this regularly scheduled post with the important caveat that I most certainly cannot dance. Not even a little, and not even after multiple lessons. But that doesn’t matter. I do dance, especially with my kids. This was the perfect time for Bluey to release that extended version of the song “Dance Mode.” Yeah, it plays on repeat daily now at this house.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m angry over what happened. Furious, even. Yet the rage doesn’t serve my family, right now. And I still have days where my own battery feels low, to be sure. But every batter comes to the plate with at least a little doubt. The best hitters are only successful about 30% of the time, after all. Yet, if you stare down life as it’s winding up to toss another pitch, and truly believe that everything is, in fact “fine,” no matter what flames you’re ignoring, perhaps you’ll manage to hit one out of the park after all.
Ok, maybe this isn’t fine. But it will be in time.
Photo: © globalmoments / Adobe Stock.
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My 6-year-old son is normally the happiest, most high-energy kid around. Then, in mid-October, something shifted.
He was morose at pickups and unwilling to share anything about his day at school. The moping carried on for weeks.
I contacted his teacher, concerned something was happening in the classroom. Maybe he was being bullied or struggling with some learning concepts. The teacher said she had seen no evidence of those issues.
Instead, he was picking up stress from his parents.
I finally realized this one November morning. My son looked downright depressed. I knelt down, meeting his eyes. I gently asked if he wanted to talk.
“It’s my zoo,” he replied.
While only 6, he has a keen interest in running a zoo and animal sanctuary when he’s older. Animals are his passion. He even requests time to “work on his life plan” as he calls it. This involves detailed sketches of his future zoo, along with notes about what the animals will require for care.
“What about your zoo?” I asked.
“I’m worried no one will come. I’ll build a great zoo, and I’ll work really hard, but what if no matter what’s there, I can’t get any visitors?”
This sentence struck me hard. It even broke my heart a bit because I’d heard it before. Not about a zoo, but about a store.
Our kids feel what we feel
This past May, my wife founded an online store dedicated to non-food vegan goods. Yet, like any new business, the store came with many challenges. At one point, while our kids were watching TV, Rachel told me she was frustrated.
“I’m worried that no one will come,” she’d said. “I built a great store, and we work really hard, but how do we get more visitors?”
Inadvertently, we’d transferred our stress about starting a new business to our son with him internalizing it as his own worries about a future career.
This is not surprising, according to Dr. Shannon Renner, a school psychologist at Pine Bush School in upstate New York.
“Kids are sponges, they have big eyes and big ears that are always watching and listening,” she said in an interview.
But hiding our adult emotions in front of our children isn’t the answer.
“The most concrete plan a parent can have is to simply name and explain their emotions or the events, in an age-appropriate way, and model how they are going to problem solve when a child witnesses the stress,” Renner said. “For example, ‘My plan is not working, but I am not going to give up. I am going to try and come up with a new plan to get friends to visit my store.’”
With this advice in mind, my wife and I talked to our son together. We told him we realized he was concerned about our store and that it’s OK to feel stressed at times. With that, the three of us came up with a plan focused on his needs — his zoo.
Explain, plan and beat stress as a family
We found ourselves in a similar situation recently.
This time, my son was excited about something he’d planned. He’d been writing long lists and wanted us to help him make a countdown. It turned out he’d planned to turn our backyard into a pond. When we gently told him this wasn’t going to happen, he got very upset.
Yet, we again realized he’d picked up on our stress.
We had recently lost the childcare provider for our 3-year-old daughter, flipping our lives in an unexpected direction. So, again, we had to discuss our feelings, our emotions, and our plans. We discussed needing to pivot when one set of expectations didn’t work out. And now, just as we were working out a plan about childcare, we worked with our son on coming up with a plan for something else to get excited about.
It’s not easy. Kids leech the emotions around them. And those stresses will keep coming. Be ready to share what you’re feeling and devise a plan with your kids. Hiding stress won’t help, but naming it might.
Photo: © Ella / Adobe Stock.
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Photo: © Snapic.PhotoProduct / Adobe Stock.
I’d been an at-home dad for more than six years and thought I’d seen it all. Poop explosions, playdate fiascos, cicada collecting. And through it all, the one constant has been my wife. She was always close by. Even if gone for a day at work, she’d always be home by the evening.
However, the truth is that when you’re an at-home parent or primary caregiver of any type, you will eventually have to go it alone.
Solo parenting.
Just you.
Without any adult support.
It’s sometimes planned — a business trip, a class reunion, or some other event. Sometimes it’s unplanned — an illness, a funeral, or a family crisis. So, how do you survive these moments?
First, as Douglas Adams writes so often in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: “Don’t panic.”
Solo parenting seems like a lot, but when this solo journey ends, you’ll be stronger and closer to your kids. At the same time, it’s worth recognizing that you can’t keep everything the same.
For example, on my first day with my wife away, I quickly realized a number of our routines didn’t work without an extra adult in the background. Take bedtime, of which we have two. Normally, one of us puts our 3-year-old daughter to bed, while the other stays up with our 6-year-old son. Once our daughter’s asleep (or at least in her room and not screaming, which — let’s face it — is all you can really wish for from a 3-year-old), the other adult puts our son to bed.
Well, obviously that wasn’t going to work. And on top of that, the “Where’s Mommy? When is Mom coming home? I WANT MOMMY!” chorus of screams was growing louder by the moment. What could I do?
Get an older kid to help
Two screamers versus me: that wasn’t working. But what if my son helped out? As I made dinner, I asked for his support. He was going to help with the dinner, and then help me put my daughter to bed. He heartily agreed, and then asked if they could record a video to their mom saying goodnight.
Send videos
When your spouse or partner is away, send them videos. My kids wanted to say good night and smile, they even sang a bit. I found that this worked far better than Zoom. We tried Zoom and it always ended in tears. Maybe with older kids it would’ve been fine, but pre-recording the kids using my phone worked like a charm. They loved smiling and singing to her, and those recordings are honestly treasured memories we’ll keep.
Keep solo parenting expectations realistic
As the time away from their mother continued, the novelty wore off for the kids. Each day started to get a bit more routine, but also a bit harder. This is where the expectations really come into play. If you usually divide chores between adults, don’t instantly try to do double the work when one is away. All you’ll do is drive yourself nuts. Similarly, recognize that the kids will complain and miss your spouse, but those whines do start to wane. For us, counting down to our pickup at the airport helped, as did pointing to all the planes in the sky. My kids asked if Mom was on every single one of them. The answer was obviously no, but they enjoyed asking anyways.
The pickup trials
The hardest part of the entire time away, for us, was the airport pickup. It was very hard, practically a disaster. We arrived late, at the wrong terminal, and couldn’t find my wife. There was no food for us or the kids. And, of course, my daughter had an accident in the car on the way there and another on the way back. My biggest advice for the pickup circus is preparation. I needed to have those kids fed before I drove up, and I needed to do a better job finding the correct terminal. And I needed to be far, far earlier. If we’d arrived earlier and brought our computer tablets, maybe the kids would’ve been fed, entertained, and accident-free. Or maybe not. I’m sure we would have still run into problems.
Well, my wife’s packing to go away on another business trip next month. I’m not nervous this time about solo parenting this time. However, I know there’s still a lot to learn.
Photo: © Snapic.PhotoProduct / Adobe Stock.
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The first month of the year is not just January – it’s also Veganuary. The idea is simple: don’t eat any foods derived from animals for 31 days.
What began as an idea from a British husband and wife in 2014 has grown into an annual international phenomenon. During 2022, an estimated 620,000 people participated, and the United Kingdom-based Veganuary charity hopes to grow its participation each year.
Why am I telling you this? I’m a vegan dad raising vegan children. And Veganuary is the perfect time to explain why it’s a lifestyle worth considering.
Eleven and half years ago, I was on a first date with a sexy redhead. I was enjoying a bacon cheeseburger. When she only ordered a salad, I flirted by saying she didn’t need to stick to salad as she was so slim. Well, it turned out she was vegan. I was embarrassed, to say the least, though the date wasn’t blown … in fact, I ended up marrying her a year and a half later.
My wife, Rachel, never pressured me to change my diet. She did, however, explain why she was vegan herself. It broke down into three main topics.
Veganism can mean better health
Veganism, when properly planned to incorporate a diverse variety of plant and fortified foods, is healthier. There are many misconceptions about it, though. One of the most common is that vegans suffer from protein deficiency. High protein can be found in many plant sources including beans, soy, whole wheat and nuts. It’s all a matter of regularly incorporating them into your diet.
Another misconception centers around “fake meats” which have grown more common every year. I’ll be blunt. That stuff is delicious, but no one says it’s healthy. It’s essentially vegan junk food. While a Beyond burger may possibly be better for the environment, I’m still only eating those ultra-processed foods on rare occasions. In general, I stick to what’s called a “whole foods plant-based diet,” which is more diverse in food choices, far healthier and more sustainable long-term.
No animals are harmed
This is the original impetus for many people who go vegan. Obviously, if you care about animals, it is better to not eat them, wear them or otherwise profit from their deaths. Dairy and eggs might seem less harmful at first glance, but the animals are often kept in factory-like conditions, force-fed and artificially inseminated repeatedly to keep those products flowing. The more you start to wrap your head around where the animal products you consume come from, the more uncomfortable it feels.
Better for the environment
This is an important part of veganism for many. One study, from Oxford University, claims that going vegan is the “single biggest way” to reduce a person’s carbon footprint. The study argues that carbon use decreases by nearly three-quarters when living a vegan lifestyle since every step of the omnivore process emits greenhouse gasses: Forests are cleared for animals, food is transported to feed them, refrigeration is used to store meat, and so on. The Washington Post recently investigated the destruction of the Amazon rainforest and cites American demand for beef as the chief catalyst of the deforestation there.
Why try Veganuary?
Now you understand some of the reasons for trying veganism. But why now? How can you start? And what should you watch out for?
Veganuary is the perfect opportunity to try veganism. And switching to a plant-based diet has never been easier. You can order vegan options beyond just salads at many restaurants, including fast-food chains. Many supermarkets have plant-based sections with alternatives to meat, cheese and milk. And frankly, those vegan versions have never been tastier. I’ve been vegan for eight years, and am astounded at how fast the industry has changed, both in terms of quality and quantity available.
Yet, pitfalls also exist. The simplest way to go vegan is to switch all your current meals for vegan versions, but that’s not always the best choice. If you eat a lot of meat and chicken, for example, switching to plant-based processed alternatives won’t necessarily be your healthiest move. These versions sometimes have as many, if not more, calories, saturated fat and sodium as their animal counterparts. Plus, you’ll probably get tired of them after a month. Now, don’t deny yourself a few good “fake” burgers or nuggets, but move past them. Mix up your meals and your proteins. Look up some recipes. Try a chili with only beans, corn, tomatoes and spices. Cook up a curry with tofu. Barbeque some tempeh.
Rising vegan children
Parenting a vegan child has its own challenges, and we are raising two of them. I fully admit my own kids eat way more vegan nuggets and protein bars than I’d prefer, but we do what works. They’re healthy and happy kids.
The hardest part is birthday parties, traveling, and other parents. My best advice: Bring your food with you. Also, use the app HappyCow to search out vegan options on the road and at restaurants. Make sure your children get a selection of fruits, carbs, veggies and protein sources every day.
We still get odd looks and occasional jokes from neighbors, but I’m proud to be a vegan dad. And I encourage others to try it.
Photo: © Mara Zemgaliete / Adobe Stock.
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