Things I Learned When Traveling with My Mom for the First Time

It's been almost 4 weeks since returning from an amazing Grecian vacation with my mother. My mom and I had never taken a trip, just to the two of us. By time I was of an age where I took interest in vacationing with my mom, my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer. Although he didn’t need round the clock care until much later, my mom was much too concerned about his health to take a leisure trip. Traveling for work was hard enough. When my father succumbed to his disease in May 2015, I became determined to get my mom out of the country and out of her comfort zone.

Rick and I had been dreaming of Greece as our next vacation spot, but trying to be responsible adults we agreed to take a two year “vacation hiatus” during which time we would see how much money we would actually save by not taking elaborate European or Caribbean vacations each year. For fun, I would still check the prices for Greece and even researched the best times to go. In the back of my head, I must have been thinking if I could sell the idea and do it inexpensively Rick might let up on the hiatus – even though we weren’t even a year into it. Who’d of thought it would be ME trying to convince RICK to spend money; my how the tables have turned!

The stars aligned just days before my dad’s funeral. Round-trip tickets were under $1000. Six nights in a four-star hotel added in only about another $600. My mom was in just a fragile enough state of mind to agree to book a 7-day European vacation, even though I had never mentioned it to her before. Plus, how could Rick say no? Within a few hours we were booked. I scheduled us to leave a day after what would have been my dad’s 60th birthday. This trip was for him, as much as it was for my mom.

It didn’t occur to me at the time what it meant to travel to Europe for seven days with your mother, who – in 31 years – the closest you’ve ever gotten to taking a solo trip with is a day-long shopping excursion. So here’s a few interesting things I learned when traveling with my mom for the first time.

1. Everything I do or say perplexes her. No matter question or statement my mother is perpetually confused by me. Things like, “I’m going to take a hike” or “what are you wearing today” are met by a furrowed brow and look more appropriate had I said “I’ve decided to convert to alienism and move to Mars”. I’ve gotten accustomed to saying “stop looking at me like that” and she’s almost as accustomed to…well, not looking so damn confused all the time.
2. She has little to no sense of adventure. This is something I’m determined to change. Maybe it comes from a lifetime of keeping safe a pack of wild humans (my dad included) and pets (our dogs have always been nuts), but my mom’s first response to almost every action I make claim to is “no you’re not.” Whether it’s “I’m going to hike up that mountain” or “I’m going to buy this dress” her response is fervently "no you're not". I jokingly tell her she has a “can’t” attitude that I’m going to turn into a “can-do” one. She says I’m just like my dad – trying things that she thinks we have no business doing and may very well kill us, send us to the hospital or – at the very least – to the poor house. I realize now that it was my dad who pushed my mom to stretch herself. To keep up with him, she had to. When my dad wanted to vacation at a ranch in Wyoming, my mom took lessons and learned to ride a horse like an expert; eventually riding one straight up the side of a mountain. Something I never imagined she would do. In my dad’s absence, it is I who will encourage and inspire my mom to stretch herself and do new things that she thinks she can’t. So that maybe one day she’ll hike up that mountain, or swim in the sea or – gasp – buy that dress. And in this one trip I've already made headway. When we first arrived I commented that the island of Santorini - and especially Imerovigli, where we stayed - was so peaceful and the landscape so inspirational that this is a trip one could take alone. She, after looking at me with that confused face, replied "no, I could never travel like this alone." But our very last day on the island, as we looked out over the Aegean sea drinking chilled white wine, she said confidently "I could come here by myself." So, yes, somewhere in there is a sense of adventure just waiting to come out.
3. I will never feel sexy with my mom around. Social media has introduced us to a host of cringe-worthy mother-daughter relationships that are grossly oversexualized. My mom and I aren’t completely on the other end of the spectrum, but – as I discovered during our trip – we are in some strange middle ground. We can talk openly about sex and relationships, but that’s about as far as it goes. What that translates into is that when in a strange bar, in a foreign country, that no matter how many drink specials I have or bedroom-eyed selfies I take, with my mom around, I will feel silly and childlike. There’s nothing seductive about me being in a bar with my mom. Considering how often I find myself in a strange bar in a foreign land with her, I suppose that’s OK.
4. Maybe I should invest in a selfie stick. Any selfie I take will be better than any picture my mom takes of me. OK, pictures are a big thing on vacation, right? And getting good ones is almost as important as being there in the first place. My mom will take a picture in which my arms are squished up against my torso in a way that makes them appear more like thighs and my smile is on the verge of maniacal, then say after snapping, in an enthusiastic tone, “that was a good one!” This is not because my mom is a horrible picture taker who often has trouble finding the button that snaps the picture in the first place (though she is and that only adds to the issue); but because, to my mother, I am beautiful at any angle.