‘I used to love travelling, but then I had kids’

I LONG for soul-stirring adventures away, but even the prospect of room service, fluffy robes and properly stocked mini bars are not enough to make my trips tolerable, writes Darren Levin.

DON’T tell my family but I used to really look forward to work trips.

As much as I love being smothered by three children who respect the idea of personal space as much as Bill Cosby, there’s nothing more thrilling than putting your bags down in a budget hotel, starfishing yourself out over two single mattresses (pushed together), and being responsible for yourself and only yourself. Then there’s an internal dialogue that goes something like this:

“What will you eat tonight Darren?”

“Hmmm I think I’ll get something super spicy with lots of green stuff on top, and maybe wash it down with a beer or a nice single malt? Good choice!”

“Why not go out for that drink?”

“It’s Wednesday and I have a big meeting tomorrow.”

“So?”

“Good point but only for a couple.”

“Only a couple? Why not befriend some other business dad at the bar, drink Negroni all night, and wake up at 6am with a plate of room service fries all over your chest?”

Your internal voice is probably not as corrupting as this.

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This lot somehow manage to make travelling with kids look like a breeze. It’s probably the entourage of nannies. Picture: Jonathan Hayward/AP

A recent survey of 2000 Americans found that parents on average get around 32 minutes of free time a day. When you factor in our third-world internet speed it’s probably a lot less here.

I’m not sure what other parents do with their 32 minutes of free time — presumably the American parents shop for guns — but mine is generally spent mindlessly browsing Netflix and never committing to anything (11 minutes); having an existential crisis about giving one of your kids an extra tomato in their lunch (nine minutes); and staring into the void (12 minutes).

It’s why an overnight work trip can sometimes feel like a 10-day holiday to somewhere tropical with a kids club; one that doesn’t involve a meticulously planned out activity list, more luggage than a Kardashian, and several bouts of gastro. (The phrase “travel bug” takes on a whole new meaning when you become a parent.)

Sleep is the one thing that consistently tops the list of The Top 50 Things Parents Miss Most Since Having Kids, but when four hours of interrupted non-REM sleep becomes your new normal, the thing you really miss the most is travel. I’m talking about proper travel — not a stint in a Gold Coast resort with a pool full of screaming kids and a bunch of pot bellied dads downing beers.

MORE FROM DARREN LEVIN: Is having kids still really worth it?

That sort of travel could be as long as a decade away if you’ve got primary school aged children — unless, of course, you have those kind of saintly parents that will watch your kids for a fortnight while you eat your way through Japan. My parents are too busy going on cruises to do that (love you to bits Lorry and Stan!)

Darren Levin with two of his three daughters. Picture: supplied

On paper, work trips don’t really compare to soul-stirring rush of recreational travel, but they do give you glimpses of the free-spirited, independent, adventurous version of yourself from a life before Baby Shark.

But something weird happened on my last work trip. Something I never expected.

I missed my kids. I mean really missed them. And not just the best versions of them I had posted to Instagram or kept on my phone. I missed the tantrums, the screaming, the Peppa Pig theme song, the tsunami of mess they could make in three minutes, the sound of those horrible unboxing videos on YouTube.

I missed park trips and bath times and making them dinner. I missed their laughing and the sounds of their voices and all their individual quirks that make them who they are.

As I lay sprawled out on the bed — occupying as much square footage as possible because, well, I could — I started to feel their absence acutely.

And no amount of room service, free Foxtel, rain shower heads, complimentary sewing kits, pillow menus, fresh towels, tiny mints, terry cloth robes, complimentary Wi-Fi, or properly stocked mini bars could ever plug that hole.

Darren Levin is a writer, editor and wannabe dad-fluencer based in Melbourne. Find him on Twitter and Instagram.