The Players:
Kim + David Foster (Parents)
Lucy (18)
Edie (17)
Raffi (12)
Desi (8)
Details:
Las Vegas to San Jose, Costa Rica.
Duration: 4 Costa Rican destinations inside 2 weeks.
Each location has been hand-picked by David so that every kid gets to do their idea of fun.
You should know that David produces shows for a living + I overheard him saying that getting us prepped and on the road for a vacation, not to mention the day-to-day execution of it all, is a lot like being a tour manager for a band. LOL. His skills come in handy.
First stop: Beach house in Manuel Antonio.
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Home / Pre-Flight
Desi, Raffi and I sit in the kitchen and talk about our anxiety and how sometimes the 3 of us can be inflexible and it’s hard for us to stray off our preferred path. We admit out loud we are nervous about leaving the house, and the animals, and the comfy things that could never fit on a plane or in a bag.
It happened for Desi around her things. Needing to bring the electric blanket, needing her bunny, needing to pack more. For Raffi it was scaring Desi, making her cry, saying No to everything, resisting, resisting.
But naming it helps.
We named it anxiety.
Airport / Boarding Las Vegas
Raffi pokes/smacks/hits (who knows?) Desi in the face in the baggage line. Desi screams and cries and shrieks. Other people in line love that.
We call it anxiety.
Desi whines and cries through baggage and security. When Raffi can’t control his body and I fear a viral video of his behavior, I pull him aside and we start talking about it.
The baggage lady wants Raffi to check-in his carry-on bag. He is stressed about it. He gets mad, blames me. I have him walk away. I say: travel is about change and things you can’t control. And Lucy and Edie make the wave motion, like they are back-up singers for Tina Turner, and I say yes, we just roll with it, the water comes in, the water comes out the water comes in, the water comes out, we go with changes.
Flow.
The plane rídes onto the runway but then sits for awhile. Raffi beats his fists on the TV in front of him when it pauses for the pilot to talking. (No one in front of him, thank God.) I put my hand on his, whisper: “It’s okay bud, it will be back soon.”
Travel is about patience, I remind him. His. And mine.
It’s about being in new places with things we can’t control.
It’s a lesson, I say.
You can do this.
Layover + Slight Flight Delay, México City
Changing planes in Mexico City. I get in trouble for using my iPhone in the immigration line. Raffi is looking for a Subway to get a footlong. He has become obsessed with the quest. The teens are rolling their eyes at the fast food obsessions of a 12-year-old. I feel like shit and have been running to the bathroom. Something in my stomach is roiling. I will be happy for the airport hotel and the throwing of myself into a strange bed at midnight. If we are lucky.
But we will be. Lucky. Because David has choreographed all the flights, pickups and overnight hotel stay and somehow it all kinda works out.
Flow.
I am still not at the point where I am projectile vomiting.
But it’s coming.
Plane: Mexico City to San Jose, Costa Rica.
Right around take off is when the projective vomiting starts. I basically live in the plane bathroom for the duration of the flight. The plane is still steeply climbing when I dash back there, dodging flight attendant scowls.
People love projectile vomiters on planes.
David is asking Raffi to do something. Raffi starts smashing his iPad with his fist. This attracts the the continued staring from the dude in front.
The guy is fine and never says anything, but his eyeing us is this thing that parents of neuro-diverse or non-typical kids know well. Our kids can look typical, but they are not. I have long stopped worrying that someone will accuse me of bad parenting. This, I’ve learned, is part of the deal, and happens regularly enough: “Why don’t you keep that kid of yours in line?” Why don’t you make him (fill in the blank)?
But I also know Raffi needs to also sometimes fit into the world and abide by rules, traditions and decorums. The job is to mediate those needs, and that requires flow.
I hold Raffi’s hands and let him sleep on my shoulder with his skater boy hat pulled over his eyes.
The vomiting does not stop until we sleep at a nearby hotel airport.
Costa Rica
Wet. And green. I told Desi that the first time I go to a new country, I smell it. Every place has its own smell.
Here, the smell is leafy with tangled vines and rocks that grow moss and water that pools into little ponds everywhere, and these little pools team with bugs and frogs and lizards, next to ants carrying bits of the jungle around in long lines over soggy soil.
For desert dwellers, where everything is baked and arid and punished, this feels like a baptism. For the first time in ages I do not even have to think about my water usage. There is water everywhere. In Vegas I’m worried about the length of a shower, “staying hydrated” all the time, as a matter of course. Will we have enough? is always there. But here, I am glistening and sweaty and hot and my nose is stuffy and wet and my hair is curly and unruly.
The teens, Lucy and Edie, put on bikinis, as everyday wear, and walk around town with drinks in coconuts. They have bon fires on the beach with Costa Rican friends they make. I watch a young man run over to Lucy, bend down in front of her and tie her Doc Martens. In the middle of the street.
Edie has only packed high heels. We dutifully buy her $30 flip flops at a souvenir shop.
Car ride to Manuel Antonio
I’ve stopped vomiting.
Desi is car sick. I give her my sweater and she pukes into it.
We like to take turns.
Is this part of the flow?
Why The Fuck Are We Doing This?
Isn’t a tropical beach family vacation supposed to be restful and relaxing?
Um, no. Not with kids.
There’s vomiting and back talking and smacking each other. Fights break out. People have to go to the bathroom urgently at the most inconvenient times. Little people need to be carried places. They complain like constantly.
David bought a first aid kit and we used the tweezers TWICE on the first day we got here.
There is no rest. This is the way of the family vacation.
Then, Cool Things Happen…
the first days in Manuel Antonio.
First, Raffi spent a whole day in the ocean body surfing with a boy named Ony from Denver. They barely left the water. We lost our boy to the waves, for hours over hours he never left or got out, except for water and sunscreen, no anxiety or worry or anger. He had some flow, just like Lucy and Edie told him, flow, follow the waves, the water comes in, the water comes out the water comes in, the water comes out, we go with changes. We flow.
He did. So proud.
And yes, we found a restaurant across the street with a pool IN the restaurant and great wifi (pic above)….something for everyone! Booyah!
And then later….
David and I were downstairs in the bedroom and the kids were out on the patio by the pool. I could hear Lucy organizing the kids into contests, who could do the best belly flop, somersault, water handstand, etc. They had music on, Lucy’s soundtrack, Carlos Santana, loud. They were are all laughing and shrieking and talking over one another and egging each other on.
No parents involved. The kids doing it all themselves, creating their own memories.
It was truly something to lay back and hear the sounds of my children together, happy. So often they are off on their own tracks, subsumed by their own dramas. But not on family vacation.
Flow.
Family vacation can be absolute hell - it just is - but it’s also absolutely wonderful.
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Hope you are having your own version of wonderful summer.
Off to La Fortuna in a bit. Car rides are fun.
Thanks, as always, for reading. xo
What a wonderful story! My mom's a big fan of Costa Rica, but maybe because she's only been there without children... But it sounds like yours made it a true family holiday in the end, which is pretty great. I hope your next trips get easier and easier as the younger kids learn that they know how to go with the flow.
I so loved Costa Rica. Enjoy!