Why Traveling with A Husband is Worse than Traveling with Kids

a belle, a bean & a chicago dogWhen I first read this post a few months back, I literally laughed out loud.  Because my own experiences traveling with my husband are nothing at all like this.

I’m kind of kidding about that last sentence.

Wrapping up the travel guest posts is Liz, from a belle, a bean & a chicago dog.  Liz never ceases to amaze me with her endless support, funny and touching posts, and her apparent ability to be everywhere in bloggyland.  Today, Liz talks about the joys of traveling with kids: the big and the little ones.

Why Traveling with A Husband is Worse than Traveling with Kids

Before I get started, I need to insert my disclaimer: The following list may not apply. If your husband isn’t really anal, with girly tendencies, traveling with him may be an easy-breezy, simple and enjoyable experience for you.

But for me it isn’t. Nope. No way.

Here’s why…

1. My husband implements a strategy for packing our bags. Not just, “What needs to go in the carry-on, honey?” but for every.single.thing we are taking with us. I seem incapable of packing, according to him, because I don’t naturally ball up underpants and jam them inside my shoes in order to save a centimeter of space. I don’t think of clever ways to use the cups of my bras to nestle travel-size bottles of shampoo. It doesn’t cross my mind to shove pantiliners in the pockets of my 4 year old’s shorts.

Silly me, right?

Maybe because he has triple the beauty products that I do, those minuscule amounts of square footage seem vital.

2. My husband asks me 57 times a day, for the week leading up to our departure, what time we’re planning on getting in the car and what time I’m waking the girls up that morning. I’m not sure if it’s for his own OCD needs or if he feels badgering me to the point of ripping my own hair out is the best way to ensure I’m aware of travel times.

3. And that brings me nicely to my next point. How often am I ever late? Doesn’t he know I have gotten myself and two kids ready every single day, on my own, since they were born? And tell me how often I ever forget something they need!

Planning for a vacation is something we moms start doing weeks in advance. We hit the Target Dollar Bins for some new toys, load up on snacks, and grab a few favorite DVDs. We lay out clothes, count diapers and make sure lovies make the cut in the – apparently – highly-coveted suitcase square footage competition. We moms have got it down to a science, so QUIT MESSING WITH US!

4. My husband’s apparently never heard the saying, “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it!” I’ve been telling him for years that it doesn’t do any of us any good if he burns through Mommy’s Bag O’ Tricks in the first 32 seconds of our trip. If the girls are happily scribbling on their Magna Doodles, let them! If they are content watching their current Backyardigans DVD, why turn to them and tell them you’ll start something new?

Once the bag of tricks is used up, we’re all screwed, buddy. So keep your trap shut and wait until they ask what else it is we have for them.

5. For some reason, my husband thinks it’s wise to frantically ask me, when we’re ten minutes INTO our trip, if I have everything we need. He goes through a roll call of sorts, even bringing up things that no sane person would ever take along. I assure him we have what we need, and then point out that if he was this concerned I’d thought of everything, it would have been helpful if he had asked, maybe, BEFORE we left the house!

6. Given the past 5 points, you’d think that with all his micro-management, he’d continue be right on top of things for the remainder of our travels. But, in fact, the exact opposite is true. As soon as we hit the airport, it’s like he’s never before met these little people, a.k.a. his children.

Me: Can you hand me the wipes?
Him — Where are they?
Me: In the same pocket of the diaper bag where I’ve kept them for the past 4.5 years.

Me: Grab me that bag of goldfish, please.
Him — Who are you going to give them to?
Me: Kate and Maddie.
Him — Do they even like goldfish?

Him — Is this jacket ours?
Him — Do these shoes belong to us?
Him — What time do they go to nap?

Me: Aaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!!!!


So there you have it. Traveling with my husband is more aggravating, more trying and more exhausting than traveling with my 2 kids. Give me airport tantrums, in-flight diaper changes and lack-of-sleep-induced meltdowns any day.

I’d gladly take them.

3 thoughts on “Why Traveling with A Husband is Worse than Traveling with Kids”

  1. Every single time David has a daddy brain fart I think “do they even like goldfish?”

    Which is why I love this post most of all.

  2. I thought I had commented on this already! Maybe I need some meds….Craig just cracks me up, Liz, and his fan club just eats this stuff up! My dad had lots of “Craigish” tendencies and we were always amazed that we actually made it out of the house for family vacations.

    And I love the roll call of what we may or may not need when we’ve ALREADY LEFT THE BUILDING….so what if we forgot it? Do we go back? Cancel the trip? Geez…

    But he is my hero for his nifty hiding places for things like minipads. I may be able to fit minipads in my bra cups, but that’s about it.

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