The author (second from left) poses with her family in front of the Eiffel Tower.
Courtesy of Rachel White
Last summer, I planned what I thought would be an epic adventure. An amazing trip with my husband and four kids for my 50th birthday. My sister and her family decided to come too, and then my brother and my mom.We planned to start in Spain, travel up through France, and end in England. We were going to have twenty days of family time and memory-making. I envisioned a raucous party, strolling across Europe, eating tapas and baguettes, sipping Sancerre and Rioja.But we all know what they say about the best laid plans.The trip started out well enoughWe flew to Madrid, and everyone got to choose an activity that they really wanted to do.My daughter decided to go to the Reina Sofía museum, which everyone loved. I forced the 12 of us to go to a flamenco show that turned out to be marvelous. We took a train north and lounged at the beach, watching the surfers and giggling at the European casual beach nudity. My dream vacation was a reality.Sure, my 19-year-old was grumpy and didn't appreciate the tight quarters. My 15-year-old decided to sit some things out, preferring to watch TikTok videos in the hotel room. Yes, these were bellwethers. I should have seen the storm coming.
