traveling with children

Childless stand out when surrounded by children

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, childless and baby pictures, envying families with children, family as code for children, traveling alone , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends:

I live in a childfree bubble. I had to get away from my home on the Oregon coast to see that. Where I live, hanging out mostly with people over 60, I just don’t see a lot of children. Sure, my friends will show off photos of their grandkids, and sometimes they jet off to spend time with them, but day to day, no kids.

Traveling around the Southwestern United States has shown me what many of you see as you negotiate your childless lives wherever you live. 

I’m currently staying in Santa Fe, New Mexico. There are kids everywhere, in the restaurants, in the hotel elevator, dominating the swimming pool, and at every tourist attraction. In this multicultural city, children of every color follow their parents and siblings like ducks. 

Last night at a JC Penney restroom, four kids and their mother filled all the stalls, yelling to each other in Spanish, voices amplified by the tile walls. I encountered the same children in the dressing room, banging on doors and laughing as I tried on pants. I wanted to scream at them and tell them to behave. 

Mean old gringa lady. 

I want to be the nice elderly woman children love, but sometimes I feel more like a witch. I’m just not used to kids. 

I spent a few days in Tucson, Arizona, staying with a cousin at her deluxe retirement home. While she was at church, I tried to write. An electronic photo frame nearby kept changing pictures, almost all of them of my cousin’s only grandchild. Cute kid, even more precious because she was adopted after her parents could not conceive, but I got tired of looking at her. If I had my own children, would I have that warm squishy feeling mothers seem to get when they see little ones, the feeling I get with dogs? 

My cousin’s daughter and granddaughter visit often. They travel together. The daughter helps with financial and technical things. When she moved to this home, the daughter and two stepsons did most of the work. 

When she told me that, I kept silent, but I was thinking, gee that must be nice. If/when I decide to move to a home for old folks, I’ll be doing the work myself or paying someone to help. 

As I struggled to sleep on the child-sized big-girl bed in the guest room, with toys stashed in the closet and under the bed, I felt like a perpetual child myself. 

I’m not complaining. Just noticing. My life is so very different. I’m obsessed with my writing and music; they’re obsessed with their families. They have Christmas photos of the whole gang in matching pajamas. I have selfies or pictures of my dog. 

If you are childless and find yourself in a culture where everyone seems to have children, you may find yourself not mentioning your childless state unless asked directly about your kids. You keep it to yourself, aware that saying you never had children can be like saying you’re a Democrat in a room full of Republicans. What? You never had children? They may not say it out loud, but now you’re branded as the childless one. You’re definitely the odd one if you’re traveling alone like me.

As I signed the guest book at a museum the other day, I noticed all the visitors before me were family groups, the Smiths, the Fisher family, etc. I saw no other single names. I signed my name, paid my donation, and moved on. What else can you do? 

Yesterday morning in Albuquerque, I found a seat away from the crowd in the breakfast room and watched the traffic go by. So many mothers, fathers, and kids, the children following like sheep or bounding ahead demanding pancakes or Lucky Charms. The parents could not relax with their own food because they had to help the kids, but I don’t think they minded. They moved and ate as a family. Later, they left the hotel rolling their big and little suitcases, and it looked so nice to be part of a family. 

But oh, my tea and my cinnamon roll slathered with butter tasted so good. I didn’t have to worry about anyone else as I finished quickly and hurried upstairs to write undisturbed.

Outside the elevator, I ran into a couple with a gorgeous German shepherd that dashed up to sniff me. She knew I was a dog mom, not a mother of little humans. I wanted to bury my face in her lush fur.

I am learning so much on this trip, part work and part vacation. 

Sometimes you can’t get away from the big division between you and the parenting people. It isn’t always a bad thing, but it is a thing. 

Are you surrounded by children where you live? Or do you find them when you travel? How does it make you feel? Let’s talk about it in the comments.

The Childless Elderwomen are having another online Fireside Chat on Saturday, March 29 at 1 p.m. PDT. The topic this time: “Eldering in a Time of Collapse.” I have to miss this one, but the rowdy “Nomo Crones” (nomo for Not-Mother) are sure to have some interesting things to say on this topic. Find out more and register at https://gateway-women.com/gateway-elderwomen.

If you enjoy the Childless by Marriage blog, you might want to visit my Substack, “Can I Do It Alone?” at https://suelick.substack.com. Many of the readers there have never had children. 

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Airplane Journey Raises Thoughts of Children I Never Had

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness means no grandchildren, traveling alone , , , , ,

When the women with the wailing baby paused at Row 29 and waited for me to rise from my aisle seat to let them in, one would think my first thought would be horror. I already hated flying. I had already noticed these were the narrowest airplane seats I had ever seen. And now I had to sit with a screaming infant? 

Then again, it was better than sitting with the two very large, very rude men who had been near me in the waiting area. 

My seatmates were skinny young red-haired Spanish-speaking women, mother and aunt, and the baby. Once they were seated, the baby hushed and was an angel the rest of the flight. He slept most of the time. When awake, he cooed and smiled as Mama and Tia gave him lots of love. What was not to love? From his chubby cheeks to his tiny toes, this baby was adorable. 

Did I ache to have one of my own? Not really? Nor did I want to be one of the many parents I saw wrangling small children. Between the multiple boarding passes, multiple backpacks, toys, snacks, and the kids themselves, they were clearly overwhelmed. Some of those kids, although cute, would not be quiet. One little girl standing in the aisle of the plane insisted on showing everyone her pink backpack. She must have said “backpack” a hundred times. 

Yeah, I was too old and tired for that. I had gotten up at 4:30 a.m. Pacific time to catch my flight from Portland to Dallas to Columbus, Ohio for a poetry convention. By the time I’d gotten on the plane, I had already sworn off flying, and then the flight was delayed for an hour while they checked out a problem with the air-conditioning system. So I was not ready for squeaky-voiced kids with no filter. But that baby and mama sleeping cheek to cheek was a work of art. 

On my second flight, I shared my row with a little girl about 6 years old and her “abuela,” grandmother. They didn’t speak English either. They spoke quietly to each other and slept a lot. It was fine, even if Abuela did hog the armrest.

What really got to me was departing and arriving alone. While other passengers had people waiting for them, I landed in Columbus after dark so exhausted I wanted to weep and with no idea how I would get to the convention hotel. I would have given anything for a grown person to step up at that point, wrap me in a big hug, and say, “Hi Grandma, let me take your bags.” That’s what killed me, not having anyone call me “Abuela” and welcome me. Alone, I lifted my heavy bags, joined the crowd outside and took a taxi. I’m past the mother-of-small-children stage in life and ready for the benevolent grandmother stage, but you can’t have one without the other. Sometimes that hurts a lot.

At home in an area loaded with retired people, I rarely see small children, but go to an airport in the summer, and you will see lots and lots of families and good and bad examples of what we might be missing. 

Are you traveling this summer? Seeing lots of kids? How are you coping with that? Are you questioning your situation and your decisions about children? Or relieved to be on your own? I welcome your comments. 

***

If I’m going to get Covid, this would be the time. The airports were packed, the planes were 100 percent full, people were close together, unmasked, and no one asked about anyone’s vaccination status. That’s a little scary. 


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NotMoms Meet to Talk about Childless Life

Sue Fagalde Lick childlessness, NotMom, Uncategorized , , , , , , , ,

Tomorrow I’m flying to Cleveland, Ohio for the NotMom Summit, a conference for childless/childfree women. I have never gone that far from home without a husband, but at this point I’ve been alone so long I don’t even remember how to travel with another person.

It might be nice to have a companion, but I like my space and my freedom. I can’t imagine traveling with children. It’s hard enough getting myself organized and arranging for my dog’s care. Foods, pills, dog-sitters, feeling guilty for leaving her.

My dear departed husband would have wanted to come along. If he had, I would have spent the whole conference worrying about him. He’d be asking, “How long is this workshop going to take?” “What took you so long?” and “Why can’t I come to the pajama party?” And that was before he got Alzheimer’s. If he stayed home, I’d make myself crazy preparing his meals in advance and checking in with him by phone every day.

Being unfettered is nice. I’m trying not to feel like a weird person because I like to travel on my own.

I will have to call my father and pray that he stays healthy until I get home. He doesn’t understand what this conference is about. NotMoms?

It’s a little strange for me, too. I’m used to writers’ conferences, where everybody’s asking “What do you write?” and stressing about pitching their books to editors and agents. Keynote speakers tell their stories of how they went from rejection to the best-seller list. Workshop leaders talk about plot, characters, marketing, revision, etc. The books in the bookstore are all about how to be a writer–because every other writer is writing a book about how to be a writer. I wrote one, too. Took it to conferences, taught workshops, sold copies to wannabe writers, of whom maybe 2 percent might actually write and publish anything.

But this conference is so different. We’re going to talk about real life. We’re not all writers. The thing we have in common is not having children. What we do for a living is irrelevant, except that maybe not having children allows us to follow our passions more freely. I’m not sure what the opening question will be. “Childless by choice or by circumstance?” “Are you infertile, too?” At least, for once, we won’t be the only ones in the room without offspring.

I’ll be selling my Childless by Marriage book, and I will probably buy several other people’s books about being “notmoms.” But we’ll talk about relationships, money, aging, health and other real-life topics with people who understand. How often does that happen in our day-to-day lives? Where else can we be totally honest about this childless business?

I’ll take lots of notes and share what I learn. If you’re going to be in the Cleveland area this weekend, you can still reserve a spot. For information, click here.

 

 

Free to go where I please with no kids

Sue Fagalde Lick childless, Uncategorized , , , ,

I’m traveling this week, taking the scenic route south to Dad’s house in California. Things have not gone exactly as planned. The place I planned to eat lunch on the first day was closed, it rained all over my nature hike on the second day, and the towns where I have stopped have not been what I expected. Plus I keep getting lost. Thank God for the GPS or I’d still be circling Eugene two hours from home.

Living alone can be tough and so can traveling alone, but I have a freedom not enjoyed by women traveling with partners and children. I can change plans on a whim, stop at a museum or bird sanctuary I find along the way, order a sinful dessert and listen to live music with nobody complaining about the food, hating the music or asking if I’m ready to leave yet. I can sit on a rock at the water’s edge and soak in the peace and quiet. I can watch TV or turn it off.

I’m not totally free. I have financial and physical limitations. I keep getting lost. But I don’t have to focus my attention on child-friendly activities, and that’s a blessing for me. Nor do I have to plan every moment, which my husband always wanted to do.

There are other limitations to one’s freedom. Once I get to Dad’s house, my freedom will be greatly limited–and he doesn’t have WiFi. Kids are tough, but so are 94-year-old parents.

There have been moments I have wished I could share what I’m seeing with a family. And when I walked through the pioneer cemetery today in Klamath Falls, I suddenly saw my grave all alone with no family. That terrified me. And I miss my dog. But I’m traveling, my way, my choices. I wouldn’t even be here if I had school age  children because school started this week in our town. Believe me, I wouldn’t be able to write this in my motel room at 6 p.m. if anybody else were here with me.

So, what can you do because you don’t have children? Let’s make a list.

P.S. We’re getting a lot of comments on the last few posts. Take a look and consider adding to the conversation.