How I’m Traveling with Kids from Now On…
We traveled to the Grand Tetons this summer. There’s a naive kind of optimism born when you plan a trip to a national park with your family. You picture the iconic peaks, the clean mountain air, the family photo by the lake that looks straight out of a Patagonia ad. Then, you pack: snacks, binoculars, sunscreen, a Camelback hydration pack you’ve had in the garage for 7 years, and—most importantly—the spirit of adventure.
And then… reality sets in.
Let me paint the picture for you: My three and then five-year-old did excellent on the flights. Minus some meltdowns, we were lucky. We exited the airport to the most breathtaking views, even an elk sighting, with an albeit-aggressive plan to spend the next day at Yosemite. That plan was quickly abandoned when we realized it would be at least a 12-hour day from where we were staying. And thank goodness it was.
We arrived at Grand Teton National Park with the five-year old already asleep from the long travel day before. Once she woke up, the kids were momentarily impressed by the mountains (“wow, dada, they’re everywhere!”), and I thought, We’re super outdoorsy now!
Fast forward 45 minutes.
Someone was hungry again. Luckily, I packed copious snacks. Someone else needed to pee right now (thank you travel potty), the kids wanted to go back “home” and play with my friends (who we were staying with), and we had successfully seen approximately 0.03% of the park. After we finally made it to Jenny Lake, hadn’t spotted a single moose, and paid a semester’s ballet tuition for lunchables and souvenirs, my dreams of an adventurous family swim in the lake quickly gave way to bribing the small humans in the backseat with Pirate’s Booty.
At one point, we drove to a scenic overlook, and as I stared up at the Tetons in all their glory, my kids were… playing with the stuffed dress-up bear figurines they picked out at the gift shop. I didn’t stop them. I took in the views while they giggled about trading bear costumes, and thought: We will miss this one day.
Because the truth is, we didn’t really see Grand Teton National Park this trip. Not in the postcard way, not in the “we hiked 12 miles before lunch” kind of way. But we did feel it. We felt the vastness, the beauty, the ability of nature to gift us some much-needed perspective. A welcome reminder that the adventure isn’t necessarily always seeing the view, reaching the goal, insert your own milestone here—it’s the chaos that got us there.
So here’s how I’m traveling with kids from now on:
1. Lower the bar. Then lower it again.
If we see one cool thing, awesome. If that cool thing is building a house of rocks in front of the Tetons, also awesome. The goal isn’t to “see everything.” The goal is to have fun being together, even if that means in an air-conditioned car with Spotify and snacks.
2. Embrace the micro-adventure.
Collecting rocks outside an old chapel? Counts. Stopping in the parking lot to smell the daisies? Totally counts! My three-year-old did this for a solid ten minutes, what a reminder. Stop and smell the flowers is a life lesson we could all use. Last minute, we found an hour to have kettle corn at the local farmer’s market before hopping on the plane home. Adventure isn’t prescriptive —it can mean five minutes of joy before a meltdown.
3. Forget the Instagram version.
Every family trip looks picture-perfect online. What you don’t see are the tantrums, the bug bites, or the car naps, with parents quietly recalculating expectations. We scrapped a second national park day in favor of a local library storytime and playground. It was gloriously our speed. Real memories are messy. That’s what makes them real, and memorable.
4. Plan less, play more.
Before kids, I thought planning every stop would make travel smoother. Now, I know flexibility is the real magic. Being ok with calling an audible on plans is key to keeping calm. Add in an age gap between kids (had my teen been with us), or your own family’s unique circumstances, and it’s even more crucial. If the kids are having fun playing with the hose in the front yard, we’re staying there. Schedules are left at home.
5. Find your “one thing.”
Pick one goal for the day. One scenic spot, one treat, one storytime. Anything else is a bonus. Our last day, we crossed the state line to sightsee, and stopped at a local thrift shop, where each child picked out a souvenir. The kids still excitedly pull them out.
In the end, Grand Teton was absolutely breathtaking—even knowing we barely scratched the surface. I left thinking, this is a special place. We’ll come back, maybe for a winter season, or when the kids can hike a little farther. But for now, this is our version of travel: slow, snack-filled, full of detours.
And you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.
