Let Freedom Ring

Tanya and I have a friend named Ann Marie who is single and has no kids. She is as worldly as they come, having taken trips to places such as southeast Asia and Antarctica. She recently hosted a party to show her photos and videos from her most recent adventures in Namibia, Zambia, Botswana and South Africa. I brought Ella and Sophia with me to watch it.

“Does Ann Marie have kids?” Ella asked.

“No.”

“A husband?”

“No.”

“Oh, so that’s why she goes on all those amazing trips!”

Ann Marie’s lack of a husband or kids gives her the freedom to roam. She can devote her time and energy to whatever pursuit she pleases, go where she wants when she wants and is ultimately responsible for only her own survival. Essentially, the opposite of a parent.

Ella’s inference made me think: Does having a family eliminate freedom?

Raising children generates many experiences that can banish even the most flexible personal life into exile. But after enduring the trauma caused by years of sleep deprivation, getting thrown up on, listening to unstoppable tantrums and putting one’s own life on the back burner, I’ve learned that there are indeed rewards for turning babies into functional adults. They’re just different than for nonparents.

Tanya and I still need time away, whether it be a date night or a few nights out of town. But even when our children were very young, we tried not to sacrifice too much of what we liked to do. Our freedom, whatever it amounted to, was too important.

Like Ann Marie, we love to travel. We’ve taken many plane rides (some were, I must admit, quite miserable), sailed on a cruise (Sophia, nearly 2 at the time, was sick for four days), and on one family vacation I suffered a week of sleepless nights and exhausting days on a tiny island with no possible escape.

There are still many trips we’ve yet to take, with and without the kids. However, for a host of reasons (financial, school, time — to name a few), it’s still not feasible right now to take those dream vacations to the Greek Islands or Machu Picchu, or a whole year off to explore the globe.

So we compromise.

Road trips stay under eight hours. Vacations top out at a week and involve grocery shopping and taking the bus. Basically, more Disney and less Delhi. But with each shorter and more tame adventure, we get a different kind of enjoyment, one that comes with watching children explore on their own in a way that suits them. Sometimes I have to remind myself that for a child, a two-mile hike can be just as much fun as a ten-miler, and a beach in San Diego isn’t really all that different from one in Spain.

I’m always at work trying to figure out our next adventure. The only restriction is my own creativity. The freedom we’ve compromised has been replaced by a different kind. And I’m OK with that trade.