Vacation vs. Family Trip: They Are Not The Same Thing

Let’s get one thing straight right out of the gate:

A vacation is not a family trip.

I repeat—a vacation is not a family trip.

If you’re a parent, you probably already knew that. If you’re not a parent and still think a family trip is just a “vacation with cute Instagram moments,” well… bless your heart.

I have two boys. And as a parent who travels frequently (read: brave but also slightly delusional), I’ve had the joy of experiencing both. My husband and I manage to sneak away without our kids once every two years for a grand total of three glorious nights. Three. Nights.

So yes, every other year, I get a three-night vacation.

The rest of the time? We travel at least four times a year. But those aren’t vacations. Oh no. Those are family trips. And the difference between the two?

Everything.

The Illusion of Vacation

When you think “vacation,” what comes to mind? Maybe a quiet beach, a fruity drink with a tiny umbrella, and long, luxurious naps. You imagine reconnecting with your partner, reading a book you bought five years ago, and eating food that wasn’t ordered off a laminated kids’ menu.

Now, picture this:

You’re in a hotel room. Your kids are arguing over who gets the “better side” of the bed. One of them is jumping off the furniture, the other is crying because the TV remote “feels weird.” You’re trying to Google whether a nugget is still safe to eat after falling on a hotel carpet.

Congratulations, my friend. You’re on a family trip.

Parenting, But Make It Scenic

Family travel is not a break from parenting. It’s parenting with a passport (or a state map and an overpacked SUV). It’s parenting in a new time zone. It’s parenting without access to your usual stash of wet wipes, backup snacks, and preferred bedtime bribes.

Honestly, it’s like running a daycare in an unfamiliar location, except this daycare charges $14 for chicken fingers that your kids will absolutely refuse to eat because “they look weird.”

Gourmet Chicken Fingers & Fancy Complaints

Let’s talk about kid food.

Children will turn down a $14 plate of chicken tenders because the breading “is the wrong color,” but will happily scarf down a stale pack of cheese crackers they found at the bottom of your carry-on bag.

Here are some actual reasons my kids have given for not eating pizza on a trip:

• “The bread is squishy.”
• “The bread looks dirty.”
• “The cheese is burnt.”
• “The pepperonis are too big.”
• “The pepperonis are too small.”
• “The cheese tastes weird.”

Burgers? Oh boy.

• “The bun has too much bread”
• “The cheese looks gross”
• “The ketchup smells weird”

Heaven forbid we forget to cut it just right. And yet they will happily devour a Happy Meal from McDonald’s with the enthusiasm of a Michelin critic.

Hotel Living: A Humbling Experience

Let me paint the picture: Four people. One bathroom. Two of those people are little boys. There is not enough Poo-Pourri in the world.

Hotel rooms mean low beds (perfect for jumping), paper-thin walls (sorry, neighbors), and the constant anxiety of who’s touching what with their questionable vacation hands. And God forbid I forget to pack the tear-free kid shampoo. Because trying to explain how to close your eyes during shampooing while someone screams like they’re being tortured in a medieval castle is just the parenting cherry on top.

Throwing the Rules Out the Minivan Window

Remember screen time limits?

Yeah, neither do I.

On family trips, all bets are off. If they’re quiet in the hotel room and not body-slamming each other into the drywall, they can watch six hours of YouTube Shorts, and I will personally hand them the remote with a ceremonial bow.

Nutrition? If it comes in a single-serve plastic bag, we’re in. In fact, give us twenty. We’ll pay extra if it’s labeled “Lunchable.”

Showers? Cute. My children treat hotel bathing like a war crime. Chlorine in the hotel pool is sufficient hygiene for a week, right?

Navigational Chaos & Time-Warped Tantrums

Let me just say: I am not a GPS. Nor am I a psychic. When Google Maps says it’ll take 15 minutes to get somewhere, what it means is “it’ll take 15 minutes if nobody spills a water bottle, has a meltdown over a shoelace, or insists on going back to the room for the LEGO guy they left on the nightstand.”

But somehow, when we’re running late to the aquarium, I’m the one catching side-eyes from everyone for not accounting for traffic, parking, bathroom breaks, and “an urgent need to pee even though we just went.”

The Bedtime Battle & Gremlin Consequences

Bedtime on a family trip is a lie. Sure, we think the kids will go to sleep after a fun day of sightseeing. But they’re in a new place. There’s a weird hum in the walls. The curtains aren’t dark enough. And they are convinced the towel swan on the bed is alive.

Meanwhile, my husband and I are standing in the dark, trying to whisper-argue about how we were supposed to enjoy this trip too.

Let’s be real—if our kids don’t sleep, they become gremlins the next morning. There is no coffee strong enough to survive a 6:30 a.m. wake-up call from a kid who’s mad you packed the wrong granola bar.

Date Night? LOL

I’m a paranoid parent. And only in the last year have I felt moderately okay with leaving the hotel room after the kids fall asleep to sneak down to the bar or lounge. And even then? My phone stays on full volume and I’m checking the baby monitor app every 30 seconds like I’m watching the security feed from Fort Knox.

But even if the kids fall asleep at 9 p.m. and we sneak out for a quick drink, it’s not like we can stay out until midnight like we would on a vacation. Because the gremlins will rise at 7 a.m. no matter what. And they will demand breakfast with the rage of a thousand hangry men.

Why Do We Do This to Ourselves?

At this point, you’re probably wondering why do we do this? Why do we spend all this money and time and energy just to be sleep-deprived, cranky, and covered in ketchup smears in a new city?

Because even though family trips are not vacations, they’re still worth it.

What They Remember (And What We Do, Too)

I want my kids to experience the world beyond our backyard. I want them to see how other people live, to hear new languages, taste new foods (or at least look at them), and understand that not everyone’s day-to-day life looks like ours.

I want them to know that we are incredibly privileged to travel. That not everyone gets to fly on airplanes, stay in hotels, or see the ocean.

I want them to be curious about the world and not scared of it. I want them to feel at home, even in places that feel different. I want them to know that home is not a building—it’s the people you’re with and the memories you make.

Yes, they may complain about the weird pizza crust. Yes, they may fall apart after a long day of sightseeing. And yes, we may come home more tired than when we left. But we also come home with stories. With laughs. With a thousand tiny memories that I hope they’ll carry with them forever.

It’s Not a Vacation. It’s Something Better.

Vacations are relaxing, sure. But family trips? They’re messy, chaotic, loud, and beautiful in their own right.

When your 7-year-old sees the Mona Lisa for the first time and screams, “IT’S SO SMALL!”

When your 6-year-old meets the Mickey Mouse.

When you see your 10-year-old fall in love with sailing.

They’re when your partner looks at you across the rental car chaos and smiles because somehow… it’s still fun.

So no, a family trip is not a vacation.

But it is something better.

It’s the slow, joyful chaos of making memories.

It’s parenting with passport stamps.

It’s love in motion, with a side of overpriced nuggets.

And honestly? I wouldn’t trade it for all the three-night vacations in the world.

Have you taken a “vacation” recently, or just survived another “family trip”? Share your war stories in the comments! And if you know another parent who needs a laugh, send this their way. Solidarity, friend.