Posted in sqt

finding joy in the little things

  1. Aubade has been so into princesses lately that I decided to make a couple little dresses for some of her tiny dolls, to match the princess costumes one of her aunts and uncles gave her for Christmas. I guess one silver lining of the quarantine is that I have a little extra time at home for little crafty projects like this! (Also, her pink nails are Crayola marker… she’s been coloring them to match her outfits!)
  1. For Limerick, I wrote a few quick Python scripts to let him see some of his favorite number sequences up to whatever parameter he wants – Fibonacci numbers, triangle numbers, square numbers, powers of any base, and reciprocals of integers. He loves being able to see those numbers in more detail (and more quickly!) than he could with a calculator. So far I haven’t gotten him interested in trying to write his own code, although since this is his first time using a computer he does have the whole learning curve of the keyboard and trackpad to deal with first!
  1. With Rondel I’ve just been reading and reading and reading. We started The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe towards the end of Lent and have now finished it, as well as Prince Caspian, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, and The Silver Chair. He absolutely loves worlds of fantastical beasts, bold adventures, kings and queens, and magic.
  2. One of the hardest things about the quarantine is making sure we all get enough physical activity. The other day we set off on what I thought would be a short exploration through the neighborhood and ended up being a 3.2 mile trek (Aubade in the stroller, Limerick on his bike, Rondel walking)… but now the temperatures are hitting 100 every day and those long walks are a lot less enjoyable. Also I’ve been sick for the past week and really didn’t have energy to do anything active with the kids. My parents’ pool has been such a blessing, as their house is the one place we are still taking the kids, but for the first time I’m wishing we had our own! I’m sure when things are back to normal this desire will fade, though.
  1. My other personal challenge is maintaining a sense of rhythm and structure when all the milestones and pivot points of a regular week are gone. I think especially as an autistic person, I struggle significantly with having an uncertain routine. So far I’ve been doing alright with bookending the day – prayer in the morning, reading to the kids while they eat breakfast, and exercising on the stationary bike in the evening while listening to podcasts – but the middle of the day is a great gaping void. And when I think the day is going to have a certain structure but then it doesn’t end up working out, it’s really bad. I suppose if I had to find a silver lining here, it would be both the confirmation that I am autistic and didn’t somehow trick the psychologist as well as the reassurance of God’s faithfulness and grace as I find myself needing Him more.
  2. Related to that last point, the Easter season has been such a gift right now. The daily reminder that Christ is risen, the reaffirmation of the hope and joy to be found in Him, even just the singing of the alleluias – those things help me stave off negative emotions and unhelpful thought patterns. They give me a starting point for seeing joy in each day, for learning to be thankful, and for abiding in hope.
  3. Finally, the sudden burst of warmth has made the garden flourish! The last of the winter beets are rounding out under their thin blanket of soil and the herbs are thick and bushy. The blackberries are ripe, the peaches are blushing, the corn is shooting up, and the beans are filling in around the trellis. I even have some sweet potato and purple basil sprouting up on their own from last summer! This is definitely a joy-bringing aspect of this time as well.

I hope you are all doing well, staying healthy and finding joy, and that you have the support you need right now! I am linking up with Kelly today so head over to check out the rest of the link up!

Posted in family life, sqt

{sqt} – social distancing with littles

I tend to use field trips and excursions (and even errands!) quite liberally with the kids: as a way to break up a long day, cut through moodiness, provide structure, and create enjoyable and educational experiences. So being stuck at home all day, every day, has been a bit of a challenge – though I’m sure not nearly so much of a challenge as it is for parents accustomed to being away from the children most of the day. I’ve been aiming for one new or different activity each day to break up the routine, and we’ve been diving more deeply into some regular activities as well. For your inspiration, here are a few of the highlights!

  1. The Dome Tent: we have a climbing dome out back, and the boys helped me move it into the lawn and cover it with sheets (using chip clips!) to make a tent! The kids hung out in it, hung upside down in it, and hung in a swing from the center of it (I put the swing up after I took pictures, but it was Aubade’s favorite part). It needed more openings so the breeze could keep it cool in the sun, though šŸ™‚
  1. Water (and mud): with a sprinkler and some pipes, the boys discovered how water pressure can force water up through a vertical pipe, how the water will seep out of any crack when two pipes are joined, and how to make the water spray everywhere by blocking part of the opening and thus increasing the pressure. They also filled their pipes with muds and pretended they were magic mud sticks.
  1. Custom Pancakes: We eat pancakes a lot, but we’ve been eating them even more recently, because I started making them look like letters (for Rondel), numbers (for Limerick), and cute animals (for Aubade)! I love when the kids eat pancakes because my recipe is 100% whole grain with no added sugar and a secret addition of some type of vegetable. These days we’ve been using up the frozen pumpkin and butternut squash from last summer’s harvest, but carrot is also good, as is a half and half blend of spinach and banana (for quite vibrantly green pancakes that are amazing with chocolate chips and walnuts mixed in!)
I’m lucky – the kids are quite forgiving of lumps and irregular shaped ears lol. Also it took me way too long to realize that if I shape the numbers and letters as mirror images I’ll be able to have the better-looking side of the pancake visible when they’re right way around on the plate. This batch would have the ugly bubbly side on top.
I was trying to make a cat, but Aubade was convinced it was a mouse…
  1. Lots and lots of reading! All the kids are starting to get excited about reading, and it makes more reading possible when I’m not the only one who can do it (my throat does get tired, and also now we can rotate who is listening so everyone gets a chance to not be just listening). Aubade has memorized Old Hat, New Hat by the Berensteins and likes to read it multiple times a day; Rondel puts so much expression into the words that it’s like listening to a dramatic audiobook with all the added nuance and humor he conveys; and Limerick is beginning to devour everything he sees with the craving of insatiable curiosity and an intensity bordering on perfectionism. We’ve spent hours just reading out loud to each other (I read the entire The Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe just this week out loud to Rondel, just by way of example…)
  1. Uno: the boys very recently discovered the card game Uno and have been wanting to play it all day every day. I’ve been using it as an incentive, or to give rhythm to the day: I’ll play three games of Uno now, but then I’d like you to exercise your body before the next set of three, or exercise your mind with reading or with math. We talk about the importance of using our minds and bodies and stretching them to do hard things, and then break up those more challenging things with some fun and relaxing Uno games, and it seems to be working well for now.
  1. Leaf Rubbing: To get some outdoor time and for a unique art project, we took a walk around the block collecting interesting-looking leaves as we went. Our neighborhood is rather weedy, so we were able to get a wide variety of leaves while only pilfering a very few more cultivated plants reaching out over sidewalks šŸ™‚ And of course we had some good leaves to use from our own plants also! Once we got back, we laid them out on the counter, covered them with plain printer paper, and rubbed crayons over the paper to generate the impression of the leaves below. Juniper wasn’t as spectacular as I’d hoped, though it was still good, but the Hong Kong orchid and mallow leaves were stunning. And Rondel used black crayon over a longwise half of a wild arugula leaf to make something that resembled a jagged blade.
  1. Costumes: one day, we pulled down the box of old Halloween costumes and had fun dressing up and playing pretend as the various animals and conglomerate creations to be had there. Rondel loves his alligator outfit the most, while Aubade prefers to rotate through all the options (and her princess dresses) rather rapidly…

Between all these things and more (and I have more ideas stockpiled for the next idle moment!), we’ve managed to keep TV time to a minimum without getting cabin fever from being cooped up in the same place for so long. I’ll definitely be glad when the libraries and museums and zoos are open again, but I’m not going to jeopardize the health of my community over boredom or frustration. Instead, I’m going to treat it as an opportunity to creatively connect with my family even more than normal.

I’m linking up with Kelly at This Ain’t the Lyceum today if you want to join the linkup! She’s posted a few times in the past week or so with helpful and humorous thoughts about isolation and quarantine (with two medically fragile kids, she’s been less complacent about it than a lot of people).

How have you been handling isolation or social distancing? Especially those of you without backyards or easy ways to get time outside, how have you managed to create a sustainable new rhythm of life?

Posted in family life

little autistic moments

Sitting together at the library, in two separate armchairs, Rondel and I examine the book in my hands. It is hardcover, with no plastic library jacket – smooth and pleasing to touch. The colors are soft and cool. It is thick; Rondel is full of anticipation and I am a bit apprehensive about how long it might be. When I open it, he looks up at me excitedly and says, “I can smell the pages!” More and more often he is noticing the smells of his environment, drawing out for himself an extra level of enjoyment (or disgust, sometimes, unfortunately) by way of his extra-sensitive senses.


Making toast for my three kids and a visiting friend, I fill up our small toaster oven with four slices. Rondel has asked for two pieces of toast at once, since he is hungry and we normally make two at once for him. I explain that the toaster is full so he will have to start with one and have a second piece later, and he seems unable to accept the change: wailing, threatening, screaming, sobbing. He even says that he wishes our friend (a toddler Aubade’s age who I occasionally babysit, and who Rondel loves) were not present if it means that he cannot have two pieces of toast at once. Limerick, 16 months younger, turns to him and says, “Dude, Rondel, the toaster is full! You can have another one later!” But it is always two pieces, and it is not alright that now this time it is only one.


After swimming at my parents’ house, I tell the kids that we will need to go home soon because Grandma isn’t feeling great and we don’t want to wear her out by staying too long. Rondel instantly begins telling me how he doesn’t want to leave, how he wants to stay at Grandma’s house forever, and so on. But when I ask him what he wants to do at Grandma’s house, he doesn’t know. He ends up suggesting, halfheartedly, that he could watch a movie, his go-to answer when faced with a transition he isn’t sure how to handle (it comes up in angry meltdown-inducing transitions as well as the more frequent “stuck” moments in between activities).


Getting up in the morning, sleepy-eyed and hungry, trying to figure out the day’s schedule, I am immediately bombarded with requests from Rondel to play board games. They continue for the whole day: after Aubade nurses, while she naps, as soon as one board game is finished, as a response when I ask if he is hungry for breakfast or lunch, and so on. If I say no, he keeps asking; he doesn’t usually get angry or demand that I play, but he tries to persuade me by making it more convenient and breaking the process down into smaller steps, persistently wearing me down. For example, he’ll bring the board into the kitchen if I’m making dinner, or he’ll offer to roll the die for me if my hands are occupied. It is his passion, his obsession right now, and he cannot let it go.


It is easy to see the ways that being autistic affects how he perceives and behaves in the world, in all these little moments. Some ways are positive; some are neutral; some are challenging for him and potentially also for the people around him. But they are undeniably there, pervasively present in his being in the world, making him distinctly different from most of his peers. And so we work together to make the world he lives in more supportive, so he can develop and mature and learn without the pressure of trying to continually mask. We establish routines and give him advance notice of upcoming changes; we give him extra space to process the unexpected; we coach him through transitions by helping him visualize what is coming next; we help him find creative ways to pursue his current passion when other people aren’t available to engage in it with him at the moment. With each day, he learns and grows and finds ways to be himself and cope with the expectations and realities of the world around him; with each day, we learn and grow and find ways to love, accept, and encourage him in his journey. The larger world adheres to a neurotypical standard, and we’re not going to be able to change that – but in our home we can give him a haven to be himself, to recharge and calm down, to be unconditionally loved.

Posted in family life, musings

stepping outside of routine

Change is hard. Routines give life structure and reduce anxiety. This is probably especially true in a partially autistic household…

But sometimes, you have to swallow your fears and set out into the great wide somewhere, without knowing what might happen, even expecting that something may happen for which you are utterly unprepared.

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And then, sometimes – more often than your fears would lead you to believe – there is freedom, and there is joy.

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There are places and times when the beauty and the wonder overcomes the discomfort of uncertainty or freezing water, and happiness can reign uncontested.

There are moments when the lure of the next rock over proves greater than your apprehension about the deep pool that lies between you and it, and moments when crossing over through your fears ends up being one of the best parts of your day because that thing you were so worried about is actually something you love, that brings out the adventurer in your soul.

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It takes a lot of energy to step outside the normal and comfortable patterns of everyday life; I’ve discovered that I need to plan for a day of rest and recovery afterwards. But the thrill of living more fully, more expansively, less bound by our anxieties and routines, is very often worth it.

And for me, the scent of the clean air, the caress of the warm sun, the rhythm of the flowing water, the strength and grace in every line of plant and rock – those things are always worth the effort it takes to find them.

(Many thanks to the friends who made this possible by inviting us along and giving me a safety net to quiet my anxieties! I wouldn’t have gone without the assurance of helping adult hands, since my husband wasn’t able to come along, and now I know that I am capable of handling this kind of adventure on my own in the future. Your support was invaluable for the moment as well as for the moments that are still to come.)

Posted in family life

meltdowns

People are hard for me.

Last weekend was filled with people – a water system sales guy came over right after work on Friday, we had our church small group on Saturday morning, I took the kids to a park Saturday afternoon, we went to church Sunday morning, and we visited my parents Sunday afternoon. So – a complete stranger in my house for several hours, and a crowded, noisy, open-plan park, on top of a weekend already social-heavy, with the looming threat of preparing for the babysitter to come Monday morning, was not a good situation.

Unexpected changes of routine are also hard for me.

Last weekend had a lot of those also. I had hoped to celebrate Candlemas with the boys on Friday after work by melting some beeswax and making earth candles in the planter out front (I had even managed to find my old candle-making supplies from high school!). But then my husband made the appointment with the water system guy (for the promise of a Home Depot gift card, which is always useful), which started 30 minutes earlier than I had thought and went considerably longer than I had expected. So because of a misunderstanding about the start time I didn’t get home until shortly after he arrived, meaning my normal coming-home rituals and reconnection with the kids were hampered; the length of time he stayed meant we didn’t get to make candles and didn’t even get to have time together as a family until dinner (which I had to throw together last minute as soon as the sales guy left).

In addition to that, I forgot how crowded the parks around here are on Saturdays this time of year, and this was a new park for us. That in itself was stressful, because we didn’t have a routine for where we would go first, what we would do next, etc., and what favorite corners we would end up in, and it is hard to develop those routines when there are so many other people around. But it became exponentially more stressful when Rondel didn’t stay put while I maneuvered the stroller around an awkward spot, and wandered off into the crowd. Those 5-10 minutes before I found him (ensconced in the arms of a mother with an older daughter, who had come across him panicking and offered to help him) were some of the worst I’ve ever lived through, as I’m sure any parent would agree!

Then, Limerick had a low fever and runny nose Saturday night/Sunday morning, so my husband stayed home with him while I took the other two to church by myself – which was not really that stressful, but it did change things up and force me to make a lot of logistical/efficiency decisions that I don’t normally need to. Not a big deal in itself, but not ideal after the two days prior.

So… I crashed, Sunday night. As in, I laid myself down on the bed after dinner and cried, leaving everyone else to fend for themselves. I had spent all my energy on small talk, relationships, social navigation, people in all their myriad forms, and I had none left to craft the semblance of “engaged parent” for even the remaining hour or two till bedtime.

We hear/talk a lot about children having meltdowns – how to help them, how to distinguish meltdowns from tantrums, how to prevent meltdowns from happening in the first place – but we seem to think that once someone is an adult, they’ve somehow managed to outgrow them. Well, adults can still be introverted, socially anxious, and sensitive to sensory and emotional stimuli. We can still push ourselves too far. We can still collapse, now, just like we did when we were children – and the best way to help us is with space, rest, patience, and gentleness.

(Protip: it is not helpful, in the moment where a meltdown is happening, to try to identify a specific trigger and explain all the ways that trigger is really insignificant or fixable and therefore unworthy of causing said meltdown. Did you notice how many things I mentioned in this post that contributed to my meltdown? And yet the apparent in-the-moment trigger was a whiny baby during dinner. When someone is emotionally collapsing and feeling completely overwhelmed, they aren’t going to be able to give you the blow-by-blow account of the multiple days’ events that led up to the meltdown.)

(Another protip: It is also not helpful, if you see a person supporting someone else through a meltdown, to start talking to the support person about how you don’t understand what’s going on and really don’t know what to do, with a shocked, confused, and/or repulsed look on your face. The support person is busy taking care of someone in clear emotional/sensory need; they most likely do not have the time or bandwidth to simultaneously coach you through the ins and outs of what a meltdown is, why this particular individual is experiencing one, and how he/she prefers to be assisted through it. If you want to learn, bring it up another time. But in the moment, shut up and give the individual some space and privacy unless they indicate otherwise.)

Things to remember:

  1. I (or my child) am not necessarily melting down because I dislike you, the people in my immediate vicinity. In my experience, meltdowns occur more around trusted friends and family.
  2. I (or my child) am most likely not melting down because of something you did personally, but because of some environmental factor pushing us over the edge. This could include:
    1. Physical discomfort (itchy clothes, hot/cold feelings, allergies, hunger, fatigue, etc.)
    2. Sensory overload (large groups of people, loud noises, irritating noises, bright lights, strong/unpleasant/unusual smells, etc.)
    3. Anxiety (crowds, unfamiliar locations, unexpected changes to routine, uncertainty with how to navigate the social terrain, etc.)
  3. I (or my child) would very much rather not be melting down, especially in front of you, and are trying our hardest to contain, control, and calm ourselves.
    1. For example, Rondel, today, when I asked him to try communicating without screaming, told me that screaming was the only way he could tell me how he felt. This statement is not always true of him – but in that moment, with the emotional capacity available to him in his meltdown, it was true, and I needed that reminder.
  4. I (or my child) would appreciate it if you could minimize reference to meltdowns and welcome us back with open arms when we are ready to rejoin you.
    1. If you help us avoid triggers, pace ourselves, and prevent collapse – without making us feel like incompetent and defective human beings by snide/cutting remarks or tones – that would be amazing. That would feel like full and complete acceptance and love. But I understand how hard that is in an ableist culture. It is still hard for me not to address myself with negative and shaming thoughts following a meltdown, given how much our society values self-control, self-sufficiency, and outward appearances. So I don’t expect otherwise from you – but if you can consistently provide otherwise, you will become one of the few people I implicitly trust, and around whom I can step out from behind my layers and facades.

Meltdowns happen. Rondel had one just today, victim to another over-scheduled weekend (which was partly my fault, and I feel awful about it). We can try to suppress them with feelings of shame, isolating the individual for their socially inappropriate behavior, or we can support the individual through them, and learn from them so that we can be better prepared for the future. I know which choice I’d rather make – for myself, and for my children.

Posted in family life

doctors and medicines (in which everyone is sick in various ways)

Well, it’s been a busy few weeks here. To be honest, it’s been harder since Aubade’s birth than I expected it would be, considering that this is our third baby (so we should have more confidence and experience by now) and that she is a significantly easier baby than the first two. It seems like life just keeps throwing curveballs at us…

To begin with, my physical and emotional recovery from the birth has been a bit more complicated this time around, what with the severe tear on the physical side and the postpartum depression and anxiety on the emotional side. Those baby blues I wrote about last month escalated into depression and anxiety so bad that they were making it hard for me to get out of bed and be present with the kids every day; I would get up and shower because I wanted to keep the tear clean, and force myself to get dressed in presentable clothes, because if I didn’t I would just curl up under the covers and feel horrible. My husband would get home from school and I would take Aubade up to bed with me and hide from the world, so overwhelmed from the few hours of parenting on my own. I wasn’t interested in anything at all, really, but I was devouring books just to keep my mind off of real life and to drown out the thoughts of fear and guilt that kept pouring in. And the anxiety – of being left alone with the kids, of driving, of leaving the house, of talking to people outside my family, of letting everyone down, of being “crazy”, and so on – was so strong (despite its obvious irrationality) that I would have waves of pain course through my chest.

My OB treated me with a series of progesterone shots, operating on the principle that the sudden decrease in progesterone at the end of pregnancy can throw the whole hormonal system out of sync and cause PPD/PPA. Fortunately my husband was able to take care of some of them at home so I didn’t have to set up an appointment every other day for the whole series! And they definitely took the edge off of the negative emotions. The first day it felt like I was on a high – much better than normal – and I thought maybe that’s how things would settle in… but no such luck. I’m still in a hole, but it’s not as deep as it was, and some days I feel like I might be climbing out of it.

In the middle of all of this, we started getting sick. Apparently it had been a mild winter here in the illness department, but February brought all the germs with it and everyone across the valley is catching and spreading disease. Naively I thought that Aubade would be safe from anything going around because her immune system would be bolstered by mine since she’s exclusively breastfeeding, but it didn’t work out that way. Last Thursday I took all three kids to their pediatrician and after prescribing albuterol, antibiotics, and steroids for the boys she told me to take Aubade straight to the ER at the children’s hospital by our house. I was in shock. The boys had never been sick as newborns, so I didn’t realize how differently a serious illness could present in a newborn as opposed to an older baby or toddler. But because they have fewer energy reserves to draw on, and because they don’t know how to breathe through their mouths, an upper respiratory infection that might just cause a cough and a runny nose in a toddler can accelerate a baby’s breathing rate to the point of exhaustion.

The ER took Aubade’s symptoms as seriously as our pediatrician had; we were in a room within 30 minutes, which is quite impressive for a busy urban emergency department, and within another 30 minutes a respiratory therapist had evaluated her and hooked her up to a high-flow oxygen machine. (The high-flow machine pushes airĀ gently down the baby’s airways, so that they don’t have to work so hard to pull air in past all theĀ congestion in their nose and lungs; the oxygen concentrationĀ was originally set twice as high as normal air but they told me it was really the pressure more than the oxygen that she needed.) May I note in passing how much I appreciated the ER nurses? Fast, competent, and caring without a hint of saccharine, they inspired confidence and relieved my anxieties without minimizingĀ Aubade’s condition. Even before the respiratory therapist arrived, they had suctioned out her nose and lungs, and did so again a few hours later when her breathing began to worsen. The pediatric nurses we had after transferring out of the ER that evening were not so wonderful by comparison, though they weren’t bad by any means.

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Aubade in the ER

So… she ended up being in the hospital for the next two nights. The boys slept over at my mom’s house for one of those nights and the first night we had her back home; my husband fought off a stomach bug and tried to keep up with school and job applications and laundry; I sat in the hospital with Aubade and held her and watched movies and tried to sleep. It was rough, even though IĀ could tell she was slowly improving the whole time we were there. RSV (respiratory syncytial virus) usually peaks around the fifth or sixth day, which is when we were in the hospital, so we were able to adequately support her breathing through the worst of it.

Rondel and Limerick caught the same virus, and both presented with coughs and ear infections, but since they are older it wasn’t as dangerous. Rondel is now on a preventative steroid inhalant, though, as every cold he gets turns into a cough – he’s been on Albuterol at least four times just this winter. I’m hoping it will help, and I’m also hoping it isn’t a sign that he’ll be officially diagnosed with asthma at some point in the future. I suppose the silver lining of all this is that my prayer life and relationship with the saints are both growing… that daily shower is a good time to maintain spiritual health as well as physical and emotional health, with a morning prayer thrown in with the shampooing and all. Better that than nothing, anyway, and I know the kids won’t distract me then.

But hopefully the rest of my maternity leave goes a bit better! We’ve still got a spring break trip up north, summer internship applications, physical therapy, and maybe a visit to a psychiatrist to fit in to these next five weeks, on top of the regular demands of school, parenting, and running a home… so if we can stay healthy (physically and mentally) it would be great šŸ™‚

Posted in family life

Traveling with toddlers, part 2

…schedules, routines, logistics, and sanity…

If your toddlers are anything like mine, they do best with predictable routines, familiar places, and people they know. They also tend to wake up early, go to bed early, and require multiple meals, snacks, and at least one nap every day. In normal life, where the family schedule accommodates these routine toddler needs, it’s not a big problem – but when every day is spent in a new place with extended family who aren’t accustomed to operating on toddler time, it can be more of a challenge.

For instance, what do you do when your toddlers are up at 7 but a few of the adults in the group like to sleep until 10? You can try to keep your kids quiet in the house during their most energetic hours, or you can take them out on your own with the result that they are going down for naps just as the rest of the family is finally up and ready – neither of which are great options! We used both of these options at different times, depending on how the previous night went, but I think the ideal solution would be to have an outdoor play space within walking distance, so the kids can get out of the house or hotel without getting totally worn out from a big excursion. Of course, this can be difficult to plan in advance!

The other big adjustment we found helpful for the trip was counting on car time for snacks and naps. If you’re visiting a city where most activities or people to visit are a 30 minute drive away (or more), coordinating a drive with a tired hour or bringing along food lets you get in the essentials without making the whole group sit around the house for an extra hour or so. With my parents, my brother, my sister and her husband, my grandmother, and various other family members who lived in the area, the added flexibility and time saved by utilizing car time was huge.

In the end, though, you can never really predict how a toddler will respond to the more spontaneous and potentially overwhelming schedule of a vacation, and it’s important to remember that. Encourage them when they are doing well, and reassure them when they’re struggling – after all, you are their one constant through the craziness of travel, and they need to know they can count on you to understand, love, and empower them. Don’t be surprised if they are a bit more clingy and cuddly than normal, especially at bedtime! Just enjoy the extra closeness and remember that they’ll be back to normal when they’re back home in their regular routine.