Brad and I have a habit of getting a little lit on our date nights, scheming up fairly ridiculous life plans, and then waking up the next morning and deciding to actually hatch them. And while it’s probably not the healthiest of habits, it is certainly not one I would ever want to change, because it has led us to do some pretty amazing things. We both agreed that we cannot pinpoint a day this idea was officially thrown out or decided upon - but it was definitely discussed over many glasses of wine on nights with blessed babysitters. 

The catalyst for this trip was actually a pile of extension cords running from one end of our house to the other, a backed up plumbing situation that the guy from roto-rooter had never “in all of his years in this gig seen before” and a host of other line items in need of desperate repair in the home we purchased a few years ago. We decided that rather than hacking it all apart piece by piece it made more sense to do one big remodel, and after discussing the scope with our contractor learned that it required us to be out of the house for 9 months or so. We were actually pretty undecided on whether or not to bite the bullet and go for it, until one of us (again the details are hazy here) brought up the point that if we were going to rent a house somewhere, why not anywhere. And with that the plotting began. 

The months and days leading up to our departure date were absolutely batshit crazy if I can put it bluntly. I scurried about the house trying to pick out paint colors and sell most of the things we had accumulated in our six years in Livingston, Brad scurried about trying to figure out how we were going to pay for it, and the kids scurried about in their usual feral manner. We were so busy in fact that we didn’t put much thought or planning into the actual trip itself. We literally looked at each other the day before we left with a “no I thought you were booking the airbnb” - and then scrambled to actually book one. There were so many moments I questioned what we were doing…what in the world had possessed us to invite so much chaos into our lives. But if there’s anything I’ve learned in my 36 years on this planet, it’s that what I consider to be the very best things I’ve ever done have all required their fair share of chaos, and generally when I get to the other side, I don’t regret any if it.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of preparation, the morning of our departure arrived, the final box of belongings made its way to the shed behind our house and I settled into an equally relieved and exhilarated state knowing it was all actually happening.

It was one thing when we decided to jet off on an extended romp around the world before we had kids. It felt like another thing entirely to decide to do it with children. I think any parent would agree that the thought of a cranky toddler on an international flight is frightening, and it’s downright terrifying to think of all the what ifs and god forbids. But comfort isn’t everything and the what ifs and god forbids can happen anywhere. While I always want to keep my children safe, I also don’t want to let fear keep us from doing the things we’re inspired to do. We chose to start in Europe because it felt like a fairly low risk location and a good place to get our feet wet with all of this rearing children on the road business. Amsterdam wasn’t chosen for any specific reason - it just happened to have the flight schedule that made the most sense with kids.

The plane ride over was actually pretty idyllic. West, who usually turns into an absolute ogre at bedtime, curled up in his seat with his stuffed dog, sweetly closed his eyes and drifted off after dinner. I honestly couldn’t believe it. Then I decided to spice things up a little by leaving my wallet on the plane and not remembering until we had officially left the airport. One not-so-quick, not-so-idyllic escort back through security by Dutch immigration officials to scoop it up from the ticket counter though and we were back in business.

It’s always a little jarring landing in a foreign country. Trying to make out signs. Ask for directions. Figure out the train route you need to take. What platform you need to catch it from. It’s exponentially more difficult lugging around tired children who refuse to walk, two car seats and nine months worth of shit. We also, after having splurged on a rail pass were trying to do everything in our power to not spend money on other transportation. Somewhere along the rainy 2.5km walk from the train station to our airbnb I found myself completely and utterly exhausted, my shoulders buckling under the weight of the 30 pound child on my back and 40 pound pack on my front while I struggled to keep up with my at-this-point-crying 5 year old and cranky husband who was cursing the stroller which kept tipping under the weight of the luggage on the uneven cobblestone streets. My chest began to ache. Pretty slightly, but long enough for me to become low key convinced I was having a heart attack. I spent the evening laying on the couch googling the nearest hospitals just in case, and most of the night wide eyed, despite so much sleep deprivation, now really and truly wondering what in the world we had gotten ourselves into. I woke up the next morning just fine and decided it must have been anxiety, which is kind of telling I guess, since I don’t really consider myself to be a particularly anxious person.

But that first day in Amsterdam, as I sat sipping an espresso while our kids plastered their noses against train windows, marveling at the green fields full of sheep and windmills - when I strolled through quaint little markets picking out fresh vegetables to make for dinner - when I watched Ketch’s jaw drop upon seeing a giant wheel of Dutch cheese, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

I know these 9 months won’t be easy, but if we can make it, I also know that they’ll be worth it. What we’re giving our kids feels like such a dream. Experiences that will shape the people they’ll become - even if they don’t remember. The time we’ll spend together, the memories we’ll make, the stories we’ll have to tell all seem like good enough reasons to me.