Jet Lag with Kids: A Love Story (Just Kidding, It’s a Cautionary Tale)

by Kate Van Dell for Sebastian Luxe Travel

I’ve tried everything. The gentle bedtime shift. The no-screen rule. The magical thinking that says, “Maybe this time it’ll be different.” It’s never different. The only thing predictable about jet lag with a child is that it will break you a little and make you stronger at the same time, like childbirth or assembling IKEA furniture with your spouse.

Let’s start with Europe. Everyone tells you to get ahead of the time change. “Just shift bedtime a little earlier each night before you leave,” they say, like this is a houseplant you’re slowly rotating toward the light, not a child with opinions. In theory, yes. But in practice, all that happens is your child becomes overtired, sleeps terribly the night before the flight, and you board the plane already fantasizing about room service and a hotel bed you won’t see for twelve more hours.

So now I don’t even try to adjust beforehand. I just make sure everyone is well rested before we go. That means sticking to bedtime in the nights leading up to the trip. Ideally it’s an early bedtime, but honestly, I’ll settle for “not chaotic.” Because nothing is worse than taking off for an international flight with a child who’s operating on 60 percent battery and one string cheese.

When it comes to flights, I try to book one that lines up with sleep. A 7 or 8 p.m. departure is the dream. A 5 p.m. flight is less ideal, but I make it work. I give Sebbie a little Benadryl early in the flight, put him in pajamas, turn off the screen (after the necessary protest), and if the stars align, he gets a solid stretch.

This is not medical advice, and it’s worth noting that some kids have the opposite reaction to Benadryl and become more wired. If you’re going to try it, do a test run at home first unless you’d like to find out at 35,000 feet that your child is now turbocharged and chatty. For us, it helps. If the Benadryl works, amazing. If it doesn’t, you’ll get through it.

Once we land, here’s the rule I live by: you can only shift your child’s schedule by about 30 to 60 minutes per day. I have hoped, prayed, and pleaded for a faster adjustment, and it has never happened. I have also tried to keep Sebbie on New York time, which worked for two days and then crashed spectacularly when he fell asleep on the couch at 7 p.m. and woke up at 3 a.m. demanding breakfast and Lego time. Now I shift gradually and embrace the slow crawl to local bedtime.

And then there’s the other direction. Hawaii. A trip I was so excited to book. Except the time difference from the East Coast is six hours, which means the first morning, my son woke up at 4:00 a.m. and was ready to start the day like we were training for some sort of child Navy SEAL program.

I tried to keep him up the first night. We pushed through with beach time and pool snacks and every ounce of energy I had left in my body. But by 4:30 p.m., he was fading fast. I managed to stretch it to six, and we were both asleep by seven. He still woke up at four the next morning. And the next. And the one after that. So we surrendered. For the rest of the trip, we stuck to an early bedtime. Like 5:30 or 6. Yes, we missed dinner reservations. But we also missed public meltdowns, which I consider a win.

Do not let yourself get peer pressured by family members who do not have young children. If your sister says something like, “Oh, I thought we’d be going out to dinner, I didn’t realize we’d have to be home by 5 every night,” just smile and nod. And then go to bed. Your sister can enjoy a kid-free meal. You’ll enjoy a morning without a tearful meltdown over the wrong kind of muffin.

Also, and this is critical: if you're flying to Hawaii from the East Coast and you know your child is going to wake up at 3:30 or 4 a.m. desperate for milk, plan ahead. Stock the fridge. Know where the milk is. You do not want to be wandering a hotel room in the dark while being screamed at by a jet-lagged dairy addict. Ask me how I know this.

If your kid can hang late on vacation and sleep in, amazing. You’ve been blessed by the sleep gods. If not, I am telling you right now: make your choice wisely. You can stay out later and enjoy the ambiance of the tiki torches, or you can go to bed early and wake up to a reasonably cheerful child who wants pancakes and isn’t screaming at the sand. You can’t have both. I have tested this theory.

So here’s my jet lag advice, for what it’s worth. Don’t aim for perfection. Aim for sleep. Protect it. Defend it. Adjust slowly. Ignore Instagram. And remind yourself that no one remembers the meal they ate at 8 p.m. with a sobbing five-year-old, but they will remember the calm beach walk the next morning when everyone felt human again.

If all else fails, just remember: jet lag eventually ends. And also, bring snacks. Because no one has ever regretted a croissant in a crisis.