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PERSPECTIVE | MAGAZINE

Traveling in Maine with my kids, I was Vacation Dad. What could go wrong?

What I learned about myself while traveling solo with my kids.

Image from Adobe Stock; Globe staff photo illustraion

I didn’t grow up with Thanksgiving Scrabble battles or monthly pie nights, so I’m clueless about family traditions, but I think my wife and I might have stumbled onto one. For the last three years, we’ve taken our kids out of school in early June to go up to Maine and see how many doughnuts they can eat over three days.

This year brought a wrinkle. COVID hit the house and Jenny wasn’t clear to go, so I decided to take them on my own. Milo’s 12 years old. Levi is 9. I had never done a solo road trip with them, but every time I’ve taken them out, I’ve brought them home. I mean, like every single time. I’m that good. I felt confident I could keep my streak alive.

I was also looking forward to it because: 1. I like to hang out with them. 2. For now, they still feel the same about me. 3. It’s good to occasionally shake up the quartet so they hear just one voice — or ignore it — and I can work on my quick decision-making, not always my strength.

I started out on fire. We walked into the two-bedroom rental and saw that one “room” was a “loft”; in reality, a dressed-up crawl space with about 3 feet of clearance and accessible by a dicey ladder. I immediately made it off-limits and they agreed with zero fight. It must’ve been my confident, definitive, yet loving tone that did it. (Truth: They wanted no part of that climb.)

But because Mom wasn’t there, I knew the trip had to be extra fun, and so, I was going to be supplying a lot of yeses. Eat in front of the TV? Sure. Ice cream for breakfast? What else is it for? I was so agreeable Milo eventually asked me, “Did you get hit on the head?” They loved this person called Vacation Dad. I was liking him too. He was positive and made problems go away before they appeared. This was going to be the best three-day vacation ever.

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Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking either. I was forgetting a parenting truth: I couldn’t give them enough yeses because there aren’t enough yeses. They’re 12 and 9. They were going to have some issue. Being on vacation might be restorative, but it’s not transformative. “People are still themselves. They get crabby, overtired, and argue,” says Amy Bach, licensed clinical psychologist and clinical associate professor of psychiatry and human behavior at The Warren Alpert Medical School of Brown University.

I knew a problem or meltdown would hit. (Another truth: I was kinda hoping it wouldn’t.) I just didn’t know when or where. And it’s not like I just waited and did nothing. I tried stuff, like I let them alternate who gets to choose what we’re going to do first. A borderline genius plan...except my kids can find a loophole — But the ice cream place wasn’t open so that shouldn’t count for my choice — that I could never have predicted.

We also went to mini golf, and mini golf is always fun, unless one of your kids hasn’t made a hole-in-one yet, and you’re on Hole No. 15; now No. 16; now No. 17, and, oh, he’s holding a metal club that’s made for swinging.

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As much as I was hoping to avoid it, by Day 2 Mainland Dad had to make an appearance and remind people to breathe and say things like, “let’s reset.” But again, they’re who they are and vacations aren’t magic.

That goes for me as well. I was thinking I was somehow immune, but Mainland Dad appeared more than once. I was impatient and under-enthusiastic about whatever they were doing. It was never my goal, but Bach says the less-than-perfect parts are necessary and helpful, by showing that they don’t upend an entire experience. “It’s how to operate in the gray. The goal is you want more ups than downs, but there still will be downs.”

Overall, we got through it and had a great time. The doughnuts helped. Hitting 1,000 tickets at the arcade really helped. Milo and Levi also wouldn’t mind seeing Vacation Dad more often at home. I wouldn’t be against that. He seems like a cool guy. Truth is, I’m a pretty fun dad, and self-assessments are always so, so accurate. While I do try to be spur-of-the-moment, I’m sure I could up the amount. But here’s the challenge when it comes to giving spontaneous yeses and my kids: When they get one, they want more.

I don’t blame them. Yeses are way more fun than nos. I guess Jenny and I are hoping for a slight nod, like today will be the day we’ll hear, “You know what guys? We’ve already gotten a ton of cool stuff. I think we’re good until next week.” That’s as likely to happen this decade as, “I’d love to watch another Shark Tank but I’m gonna make a bed.”

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The ongoing push-pull with my kids is that I encourage them to have fun. I’ll pay for it, take them to it, even partake…then I’m going to make it stop long before they’re ready to stop, all to help them handle disappointment and be able to shift to Plan B.

The effort will pay off one day, I hope, but for now, they’ll resist, as they should. I’ll keep being the cold water of their lives for at least the next six to nine years. There’s no vacation from that.

Steve Calechman is a writer on the North Shore and a frequent contributor to the Globe Magazine.

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