By Kris Ann Valdez 
In the opening scene of Disney’s live-action Beauty and the Beast, Belle spreads her arms and sings, “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere/I want it more than I can tell,” for all the wanderlusts out there, it’s the most memorable scene in movie history. I fancy myself a Belle—avid book reader, longing for adventure—but with three kids. The thing is I don’t want to wait until they’re grown to travel.
That’s how I found myself driving Rocky National Park’s highest paved road in America with a 2-year-old requesting, “Play “Let it Go” again!’” from the backseat, thus beholding the awe-inspiring autumn spectacle of changing leaves and spectacular cliff views to the soundtrack of Idina Menzel.
“Not again” the 7-year-old groaned each time it looped. My husband and I reminded him of the time he pitched a fit because a rental car came with a pink car seat.
“I hate pink!” he screamed, kicking and thrashing.
“It might not be your first choice,” I said firmly. “I’m sorry for that, but right now, for your safety, you have to sit in it.” He threw a tantrum until he fell asleep.
Behind every family vacation is at least one epic story of tantrums gone wrong. Or a very good poop story, like the time a certain 5-year-old ate a giant bean burrito and then whimpered, “I need to go now” while we searched for the lost hotel room key.
“Come on,” my husband said, “I’ll take you to the lobby’s bathroom.”
But they didn’t make it. Diarrhea . . . in the elevator. The doors opened and shut on each floor as my husband had to explain to other guests the stairs were probably a better option. Our kids still giggle every time we tell that story. That’s the thing about traveling with kids: it’s not a vacation, it’s an adventure.
Recently, I read to my children about Gunther Holtorf and his 24 years of traveling in his 1988 Mercedez G Wagon, seeing over 214 countries and covering 900,000 kilometers.
At first, I was deeply inspired by his story until I read this account from Outside Online: “Holtorf and his late wife Christine left their son, Martin, then 10, with an aunt for what was supposed to be an 18-month trip across Africa in 1989. ‘But the more we traveled, the more we realized how little we’d seen,’ he says, and so they kept going, putting Martin in a boarding school.”
My heart plummeted, imagining Martin, my eldest’s age, sent off to boarding school. I wonder how he felt when he received that news—that they weren’t coming back for him.
I turned to look at the backseat where my own three children were buckled in their seats. I imagined living out of our car with them—how hard that would be. How many times I’d have to break up their bickering. Or wait out a tantrum. Man, we’d have some epic poop stories though.
“I’d take you guys if I ever traveled like that,” I promised them. I saw the relief on my daughter’s face and squeezed her hand, so she knew I meant it. And I did.
This fall, I embarked on a grant trip to Mexico City. Since my youngest is an exclusively breastfed infant, I felt more comfortable bringing him. Then my daughter weighed in, “Mom, please take me too! I hate when you go away. I miss you so much.” Cue the tugging at my heartstrings.
Of course, I couldn’t take the two smallest and not my eldest. So that’s how it became a family trip. Seeing Mexico City through their eyes made the hard moments worthwhile. We stood as a family on the ancient ruins of Teotihuacan and boated down Xochimilco’s Aztecan waterways. When it rained, we squealed each time the water sloshed up to our shins.
I didn’t experience Mexico City’s nightlife or get a massage at a five-star hotel. But I’d argue what I got was a lot more exhilarating—core memories with my family. And what my children got—experiencing a new culture and learning about history firsthand—was irreplaceable. That’s why I will take as many trips with my children while they are young as I can muster. They might not remember them all, but I will.
During the hardest, most frustrating moments of travel, I remind myself that someday these will be the memories we look back on and laugh at the most. Although a relaxing vacation with a margarita and nap beachside does sound lovely, I wouldn’t replace those moments for anything.
Adventure > Vacation in these childhood years. It’s the mindset that keeps me daydreaming and booking more travel. It’s worth it. So, so worth it.
Read more about Gunther Holtorf and his late wife Christine’s travels here.
by Angela Williams Glenn 
by Tayler DiGiacomo 
by Terryn Drieling 
