Adulting

Day two of our long-awaited vacation and the kids were already at each other's throats. Why couldn't my grown-up children act like grown-ups?

- By KELLY HARREL, Menifee, California

I'd been looking forward to this trip with my two young adult kids for months. Soon Noah, 22, and Becca, 20, would be too busy launching their careers to vacation with their parents. Noah was going to be the best man in a family friend's wedding in Oregon, and we were taking the opportunity to get in some hiking and sightseeing beforehand. I wanted to make every moment amazing.

I'd booked a cabin near Silver Falls State Park, which was supposed to be a 90-minute drive from the Portland airport. But we'd been on the road in our rental SUV for two hours and hadn't seen any signs for Silver Falls. None of the houses on this bumpy dirt road looked like our Airbnb.

I was driving, with Noah in the passenger seat and Becca, complaining about feeling carsick, in the back.

“Did you type in the right place?” Noah said, snagging my phone from the cup holder.

“Yes, I clicked on the address I sent you when we left the airport.”

“Mom, that’s the bride’s address, not the cabin! Here’s the right one. Pull over. I'll drive.”

“I’ve got this,” I said as our real destination came up on my maps app. Not only was I the parent, but I was also a longtime teacher, and I'd homeschooled both kids. Of course I was in charge here.

“How much longer?” Becca moaned.

“Forty-five minutes,” Noah answered. “Mom, let me drive!”

I gripped the steering wheel tighter. “Call your dad and see what he’s up to,” I said.

That was one more thing that hadn’t gone as planned. My husband, Jeff, was in the midst of opening a new coffee shop back home in California and had begged off the trip. I understood; the coffee shop was the culmination of his long-held dream, after several years of job struggles. Still, I wished Jeff were here with us, and not just because he had a much better sense of direction than I did.

Fortunately, talking to Jeff distracted Noah and Becca from my mix-up with the address.