My son was two days into spring break before I was able to hit pause on work deadlines and figure out a quick getaway. As a college student, Sol was content to lounge around at home, but I knew he — all of us — needed a change of scenery. 

Mini road trip to the rescue!

By the time we prepared for bed that Tuesday night, my husband and I had narrowed our choices: Drive south to stay on a friend’s ranch in Jamul or north to relax in Ojai.

  “Did you text your friend to ask about us coming?” Marcus asked.

 “No,” I answered, a tad testy. “Haven’t had time.”

  “I guess it’s off to Ojai, then,” he said. 

The next morning turned into a flurry of open phone and laptop tabs for hotels, Airstreams and Airbnbs. “Hey, look at this,” Marcus yelled from another room. “It’s a furnished wagon for rent!” 

I took one glance at the rustic contraption and felt not one iota of romanticism. “Nope. Not for three of us.” 

 By some miracle, we secured a two-bedroom cottage located just minutes from downtown Ojai, finished packing and headed out the door for our 80-mile trip. We rolled into town by late afternoon, took a stroll through shade-dappled Libbey Park, tasted fruit-flavored vinaigrettes at Ojai Olive Press, then headed for the “world’s greatest outdoor bookstore,” Bart’s Books. 

On the way, I saw a sign for Bamboo Creek Spa. I turned to Sol. “This is a sign,” I told him, my eyes dancing.

He’s been dealing with some first-year college stress, and I had told him that I wanted to treat him to his first professional massage and a meditation session. I pushed him gently toward the door. “Come on, we’re on vacation. You have to just seize the moment.”

We were inside and a staff member was directing us to sign in before Sol could open his mouth in protest, but as we waited for his massage therapist, he let me know he was not pleased. “Why are you forcing me to do this?” he hissed through clenched teeth.  

As his therapist whisked him away, I resumed my trek to the bookstore, feeling a sense of accomplishment. But with each step, doubts began to gather in me like knots. Oh my God, what if this isn’t a carpe diem moment? What if it scars him for life, makes him hate massage (and me) forever?

Blessedly, when I rejoined him later, he was pleasant and — dare I say — more deeply embodied. “It was actually really great, Mom,” he said. “Thank you.”

The knots in my own body began to dissolve. Mini vacay disaster averted. Parenting risk worth it. 

I hope your family getaways (whether across the globe or up the coast) are a little less harried than ours. This family travel issue is filled with ideas to help you explore near and far — from Little Tokyo to Italy and back again.

Enjoy — and carpe diem.

Cassandra Lane is editor-in-chief of L.A. Parent.