Lessons Learned: One Month

Oh, how far we have come. And oh, how far we still have to go…

Today officially marks one month of our full time RVing adventure. And it has been a rich month. Sometimes really hard, sometimes really great. With much growing and adjusting mixed in. While I am far, far away from expert status on this whole full-timing thing, I have learned some valuable first month lessons. And lucky you, I will share them with you today.

Abandon expectations.

I find that often I don’t realize what my expectations are until they are unmet. And then I’m surprised at my level of disappointment about certain things. So I’m slowly learning to step into this adventure with eyes wide open, realizing anything can happen each day. (Literally anything…) 

I don’t know what I was thinking before we hit the road… that when crammed into a 5th wheel my kids would suddenly no longer have the desire to fight with each other. Or that we wouldn’t need things like toilet paper and sink cleaner and life would feel like one long vacation. Or that insomnia wouldn’t still plague me and everywhere we visited would be like a beautiful stroll through a flower filled meadow.

Also not expected: a resurgence of a pandemic and full states being practically closed to our arrival. And that this means major overhauls in itinerary planning and all the hopes of how the next year was going to look. And if this happens to you someday, hopefully your teenager will be just as flexible and understanding as mine was when I told her that it looks like she won’t be spending her sweet 16 in New York City after all, but somewhere far less glamorous like Chattanooga, Tennessee or Louisville, Kentucky. But don’t count on it. Because this is a scenario ripe for disappointment and even though my soon to be 16 year-old was gracious, I was pretty bummed. Because I really wanted to have a sweet 16 in the Big Apple, even if it wasn’t mine.

Many things will go wrong. 

Speaking of expectations… expect things to go wrong. Lots of things. You will get a flat, have a fire in your trailer, your washing machine will leak water in your master closet, your microwave will quit working, your kitchen plumbing will slowly drip all over your floor, your toilet will have a leak, your cabinet doors will fall off in transport, your light bulbs will break, your refrigerator will leak, your slide out will get stuck and your vent fan will quit working. 

Or maybe that’s just us.

Either way, it won’t all go as planned. Learn to be flexible and learn to laugh with your family. Your kids follow your lead. If you are a stressed out pile of anxiety, they won’t be able to find much security. But if you are able to smile no matter what and show your kids there is plenty to be thankful for, they will learn a lot. Seize those stressful moments. They are the most teachable. (And not just for the kids.) 

Calories count. 

What I mean by this, is it’s not just a glamorous vacation. It’s real life. Eating everyday like you are on vacation catches up with you. Same with everything else. There are still real life things that need to happen. Like cleaning and school prep and meal planning. So if you want to eat s’mores every night and not think about what day of the week it is, it will catch up with you. Discipline is a good thing.

I have a lot to learn. 

I have figured out the answers to questions like “how does cinnamon grow?” and “what is stinging nettle?” and I have found where the big truck stops are that are easier gas stops than the tiny corner markets. Google is a great friend when you are adventuring.

Guess what Google doesn’t tell you? How to help your husband back into a tiny campsite when you are the one holding the walkie-talkie or how to figure out meals for an entire week at a sudden, impromptu stop at Walmart, not knowing when you’ll make it to the grocery store again. It also won’t tell you when your kids are totally fine to explore new areas without you or whether or not pedophiles may be camped out at the annual sites in your campground.

We have a lot to learn. And we most likely won’t stop learning something new about RVing until the day we stop RVing.

It will be harder than you expect. 

We expect Google maps to be correct when routing us over a bridge 55 minutes away to get us back to Oregon (it was closed). And we don’t think that dishes will pile up as fast on vacation as they do in the real world. But guess what, they do.

No one actually thinks about how the trailer needs to be cleaned just as often (or more!) as a house does or how all the annoying traits of your family members aren’t escapable but merely compounded by shoving everyone into a 400 foot living space. And a broken washing machine doesn’t sound so annoying until your 3 year old wets the bed or someone is suddenly out of clean shorts and you have no options.

And we can’t predict which days will be emotional ones and especially can’t redirect temper tantrums or important parenting moments to more convenient times. And it is hard to be away from family and friends. Missing is hard. Especially when it’s raining and we are tired and we have to move campsites in the mud. There’s just lots of things.  

It will be greater than you expect. 

Here’s the truth. Full time rv-ing is hard. But life is hard. So it’s really just a choice of where you want to embrace the hard. Because even though we want to wring each other’s necks most days, there are no other necks I’d rather wring. I love my people. And we get to do the fun stuff and the hard stuff all together.

We have shedded so many distractions in our life. So much excess that has seeped in and threatened to overwhelm us. This simplification of life is like breathing in fresh air. Air we didn’t know we needed so badly. We are more intentional. We look each other in the eyes more. We see each other’s hearts a little more. We are hurrying less. We are more present.

This life is a beautiful gift. We are grateful for this opportunity to grab onto it before it passes us by.