Travel Like a Mother
by Emmeline Martin
I have wanted to write an article about “moms who travel” for awhile, but didn’t know where to begin. There are so many women out there who dream of being a mom, but can’t. Other women may be tired of being pressured into having a baby or may have zero interest in ever becoming a mother. So in writing about moms who travel, will I leave some folks out of the equation? Well, maybe, but not intentionally. I honestly believe every one should take time out of their busy lives and maybe make financial sacrifices so they can travel. But hear me out, I’m a mom and this is about my experience.
Camping as a kid
I grew up camping in the mountains of Tennessee or road-tripping to the beach in St. Augustine, Florida. We weren’t jet-setting to other countries on the regular. The internet was just becoming a mainstream phenomena (remember dial-up?). Booking airfare would have required getting out our phonebook, finding the airport’s phone number, and calling to book a flight with the landline telephone attached to the wall of our kitchen. My parents would have purchased travel books and brochures to learn about where we were going. Wow, that makes me feel old. But think about it, what a hassle!
me in Peru. i’ve always been a lover of horses.
We did fly to Peru when I was eleven years old to adopt my little sister from an orphanage in Lima. It wasn’t exactly a relaxing, idyllic vacation, but it did open my eyes to a whole new world. It made me feel tiny in the grand scheme of life. It gave me perspective (and Montezuma’s Revenge). I was changed.
When I started college, it was becoming increasingly common for students to study abroad, but I always thought “how would I pay for that?”, and the idea of navigating a foreign country by myself at nineteen was daunting. In January of my sophomore year, my parents generously helped me go on a trip with my Art History class. In the short span of two-weeks I explored all the major art museums in London, Paris, Lucerne, Florence, Pisa, and Rome—whew! We packed, unpacked, and packed again, carting our suitcases from hostel to hostel and train station to bus. I was exhausted, ended up with a severe case of jet-lag, but came away with memories that I’ll treasure for a lifetime.
On my College trip to Europe — the obvious thing to do was to imitate the leaning tower of pisa.
Fast forward to my mid-twenties, I’m married and working, but making pennies. My husband and I drove our beat-up Jeep Cherokee on our move across country. We pieced together jobs, lived in a 450 square-foot studio apartment with purple carpet and a mattress on the floor. We weren’t exactly able to book fancy vacations in Italy, but we thought that was normal for everyone in our stage of life.
Me and my favorite human/husband
Nowadays when I think of people who travel internationally, I immediately envision those mid-twenties social media influencers, working singles, and young couples vacationing in Turks & Caicos or the Mediterranean. Or I think of the retired couples, widowers, and divorcees exploring the world for the first time after thirty plus years of parenting, working, and slogging through the grind of daily routine. I don’t think of middle-aged moms and couples leaving their young kids to vacation in Europe for weeks on end. Of course, there are always outliers, but mostly thats not the demographic traveling abroad. Right?
Ok, but here’s the thing. I’m a 35-year-old mom of two elementary-aged kids and last year I traveled, without my family for the first time, to England. I was gone for thirteen nights. Do I sense some judgement? Maybe or maybe not, but I most certainly judged myself. I felt intense guilt. I cried. I made my kids goodie bags and wrote them notes for each day I was gone. I came up with so many excuses for why it made sense for me to go on a trip to England without my husband and kids. These excuses were just masking my self-imposed guilt.
Me and my kiddos
But it did make sense for me to go. Not only was it an incredible opportunity, but also after six years of non-stop parenting—“losing” myself, constant runny noses, spit-up on my blouse, my body forever changing, my postpartum hormones never fully going away, and sometimes wondering if I even recognized who I was anymore—it gave me a chance to rediscover who I am. Who was I apart from their mom and his wife? It may sound selfish. This would have been unheard of in my grandmother’s generation. They weren’t allowed to complain about the realities of motherhood. It was simply an expected part of being a wife, and maybe there’s something to that; maybe they were more content knowing their role and stifling their dreams. Or maybe they weren’t.
ENjoying the breathtaking views from the minack Theater in Cornwall, England
I felt alive exploring the countryside, cliffs, and coast of Cornwall, England. I felt refreshed and inspired. I felt courageous. I enjoyed the company of ten other women, most of whom were decades older and wiser than me. I learned new things—about humanity, about myself, and about our beautiful Earth. I missed my family. I cried a little more, and I had to sit with my guilt, knowing that it would be present regardless of what I knew to be true. I knew this trip would change me. I knew my children would miss me, but hopefully be inspired by my sense of adventure. They were cheering me on from afar like they do when I’m training for a half marathon, “go mama, go!”. Don’t I want the same for them? I want my children to see me go on adventures, take risks, learn new things, work hard, play often, and be curious. I want them to do the same when they’re in my shoes. How can I expect them to learn independence, curiosity, and the love of experiencing other cultures and people unless I model it?
I am aware that I’m privileged and that so many mothers will never get to experience what I did. But not because they don’t dream of it. Not everyone will have the opportunity to travel internationally, but I think if you can, you should, even if it means making some sacrifices and maybe even getting judgmental comments. My husband and I talk often about whether we should spend that tax return on remodeling our kitchen or on a trip. More often than not, we choose travel. Making memories, experiencing new places, going on adventures—these things last forever. The kitchen remodel, on the other hand, will go out of style in ten years.
So, on that note, Happy Mother’s Day month to all the moms! Go travel like a mother!