I was terrified the first time I boarded a plane alone with all four of my kids.

My youngest was 16 months old and still breastfeeding. The others were 4, 6 and 9. I stood at the gate with a stroller, multiple passports and a diaper bag, acutely aware that no other adult was coming to help. If someone melted down, it was on me. If we missed a connection . . . me again. There was no backup adult sitting in 14B.

And then I boarded the plane anyway. Not because I felt fearless, but because I knew that if I could manage four kids at home, I could manage them anywhere.

If you’re reading this thinking there’s no way you could do something like that, I thought the same thing once, too. Here’s what made it possible, and what I’ve learned after ten years of doing it.

 

Why I Didn’t Wait for Perfect Timing

That first shift wasn’t logistical. It was all mental.

What I wanted was simple: to see the world with my kids while they were still little. But I also knew that if I kept waiting for perfect timing—the right work schedule, the right school break, the right airfare deal—we would probably never go.

At the time, my husband worked in oil and gas, and his schedule wasn’t predictable. He’d be gone for weeks, sometimes months. We could wait for a season when everything lined up neatly, or I could take the kids and go. I bet you can guess which option I went with!

When people ask how I managed it, I usually joke, “We’re already crazy, so might as well be crazy somewhere cool.” It gets a laugh, but there’s truth in it. Life with four young kids is chaotic no matter where you are. Someone is hungry. Someone is tired. Someone needs something urgently.

Eventually I realized travel wasn’t adding to this chaos but more or less just moving it. The logistics looked bigger because they involved passports and foreign languages, but I was already coordinating schedules, managing emotions and running a household. Ultimately, this was another day of the familiar grind; it was just the setting that would change.

 

Making it Sustainable

Our first long stay was in Croatia, where we settled into one (amazing) place for six weeks. We rented an Airbnb from a local family with an eight-year-old daughter, and within days my kids were outside playing with her and the neighborhood children. What I had worried might feel isolating quickly felt communal.

We weren’t racing through cities or checking off attractions like we do on shorter trips. Instead, we shopped at the same market, walked the familiar streets and figured out which bakery sold out by noon.

By the way, this doesn’t mean quick trips aren’t wonderful—they absolutely are. But when you’re the only adult managing multiple kids, reducing transitions can make a huge difference. If a long stay isn’t realistic, even building in one “home base” city on a shorter trip can create that same sense of rhythm.

 

 

Points and Miles Made It Possible

Strategic credit card bonuses and transferable rewards made long-haul flights attainable. Instead of draining our budget on airfare, we used miles to get there. That meant our cash could stretch further once we landed.

And when you remove the most expensive piece of the puzzle, the entire trip takes a different turn. We weren’t racing to “get our money’s worth.” We could extend our stays, settle into neighborhoods, and let the experience unfold naturally.

 

 

Travel Changed the Way I Showed Up

At home, I’m buried in the everyday rat race: drop-offs, laundry, appointments, and the pressure of keeping everything running. Even when I’m sitting next to my kids, part of my brain is tracking what comes next. But traveling quieted that background noise.

I still had responsibilities because, unfortunately, crossing a border doesn’t magically make children self-sufficient. But I wasn’t running a house at the same time. Without that constant maintenance, I found myself more present. I lingered instead of rushing, and I joined my kids instead of directing them.

That shift also helped lead to some of our boldest adventures. We’ve jumped off bridges in Ecuador, picked up hitchhikers at Cotopaxi, and climbed an active volcano in Guatemala. Were those decisions slightly unhinged? Absolutely. But they were also moments where I realized I wasn’t holding us back out of fear.

And if you’re wondering whether you’d ever do something like that, I promise you I didn’t think I would either.

 

How To Make Solo Travel With Kids Work

By the following summer, we were practically seasoned travelers, setting off on an even bigger adventure that included Guatemala, Panama, Ecuador, and Colombia. Somewhere along the way, our summer trips have somehow turned into a decade of long adventures with just me and the kids. 

We’ve found our rhythm now. But if you’re trying to figure out what this could look like for your own family, here are a few things I’ve learned along the way.

Longer stays instead of quick hops. Accommodations through Airbnb gave us kitchens, laundry access and, most importantly, breathing room. Hotels are great in theory, but packing several kids into one room and whisper-hissing “Please don’t walk so loudly, there are people under us” loses its charm quickly. With no second adult to absorb the chaos, space becomes less of a luxury and more of a survival strategy.

Routine, even abroad. We kept morning walks, regular park time, familiar snacks and consistent bedtimes. Kids don’t need geographic stability as much as they need emotional stability.

Points and miles for flights. For a large family, airfare is the biggest barrier. Redeeming miles makes extended stays possible without financial pressure to “make every day count.” When you’re not trying to cram everything into five days, things become much more manageable.

Lowered expectations. Not every day is epic. Some days we did laundry. Some days we went to the same beach again. Some days we stayed in and played on our electronic devices.

You don’t have to replicate my exact trips. You don’t have to go for six weeks. You don’t have to cross an ocean. But you can start somewhere.

 

 

Bottom Line

If you’re picturing complete and utter chaos, you’re not completely misguided. But fortunately, it doesn’t have to be the kind that makes you question all your life choices. 

I didn’t board that first flight because I felt fearless. I boarded it because I knew waiting for perfect conditions meant waiting indefinitely. Traveling solo with my kids didn’t transform me into someone new. It revealed a steadier, more adaptable version of myself—and it gave me the space to be the kind of mother I wanted to be, not just the one racing through the daily grind.

If your life already feels full and loud and demanding, the leap may not be as dramatic as it seems. You are likely already coordinating and solving more than you realize. Travel doesn’t require a different version of you—it simply asks you to trust the one you already are.

And don’t worry, my husband wasn’t exiled. He still joins plenty of trips. These just happen to be my solo editions—because I’m a glutton for punishment.

 

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