Planning a family holiday that makes everyone happy can be real pain, especially when all the travel planning seem to fall one way, your way!
However planning the perfect family vacation is not pain as long as you know what everyone in your family enjoys from their holidays and what travel options are available for you have at your disposal. Before you start the planning process of for your family’s next trip, their are some great sites and just running simple search on the “best family holidays” should yield you some terrific family travel blogs and forums to help in gathering those ideas so you can build a great family vacation with the kids.

As many of the you may know I’m a father with two little nomads and understand the process required with creating a family trip that appeals to everyone, but with a little homework and planning you should be on your way to taking a great family holiday in a perfect destination that fits everyone needs.

I know my column is from my personal perspective, and often about my personal life. Yet I feel this topic is more confessional than many others and affects me too often. I take things too personally. Having this deficiency is truly toxic when you are raising kids or beginning a new marriage, both of which define my present state of affairs.

Let’s give some examples and see how many of you relate to them. Easy ones are when ShortRib (my wife) isn’t smiling, isn’t talking much, or doesn’t respond quickly to an e-mail, or text of mine. I always assume that it’s my fault or something I’ve done.

Submitted by Bizymoms at T-3!

There is probably nothing more important in a child’s life than his or her parents. On top of this the role and the profound impact a father can have in a child’s life is not only a less known one but is also much deeper and more cherished than we all assume. Having a father to guide and of course lean on shows children the need for strength, courage and of course compassion at the right time. A father is probably the best role model for a child when it comes to learning responsibility and taking on challenges. A father can wield immense power in providing moral guidance to the child with interesting examples and occasionally stern advice which will help mould the child into a responsible citizen someday. This is why most children look up to their fathers as heroes.

Diversity is a nine-letter word; so is parenting. ShortRib (my wife) and I met a wonderful couple on our recent honeymoon that, at first, we thought and they thought represented the most diversity in a couple any of us knew. In fact, they were written up as just such a phenomenon in a local paper in their hometown. David is a 55-year-old, liberal, white Jewish lawyer, while Farah is a 40-year-old, conservative, black Christian, non-profit worker. Key thing about them; no kids, by their mutual choice. However, they’ve been married 10 years and, on the surface, have one of the best rapports between couples we observed on the entire cruise and safari, where we encountered quite a large mix of couples.

"What do you guys want for breakfast?" I ask my three pajama-wearing kids flopped sleepily over two couches on a promising Saturday morning. They’re with me every Saturday morning as part of a divorce agreement. We call it "Lazy Dadurday." And lazy it is. We wake up late, then trek to the bookstore, the pet store, the mall, or the pool, and just let it all hang out.

"What is there?" the kids ask absent-mindedly.

My children have faced the same breakfast choices since they were old enough to chew: frozen waffles, cereal, and toast. No more and no less. It's their version of death and taxes. Nonetheless, the sweetly inquisitive response — what is there? — is always the same.

It's as if they'd been replaced overnight with benevolent alien imposters who'd carefully studied everything about us but our breakfast rituals.

It’s high time I wrote a column that stirs some reaction, creates some controversy, and isn’t so sweet and nice. No gratitude for surviving what should have been a deadly car crash, no treatises on the values of volunteering, or even about the importance of spending more quantity time with your kids. After all, this is a man’s point-of-view, not some touchy-feely new age guru. Look at the magazine rack at your local bookstore. The women’s section is literally full, while the men’s section mostly consists of magazines about cars, motorcycles, or supermen who climb ridiculously high mountains without oxygen. We won’t even talk about daytime television where Oprah and Ellen dominate. I don’t count Dr. Phil, for obvious reasons.

The ‘50s ideal of the nuclear family is clearly a thing of the past as most statistics readily confirm. Divorce is rampant and the definition of family is undergoing constant scrutiny and redefinition. For my family, we’ve been dealing with a new Step-Mom, as I just got married, this past December 27 (2008). My new wife might argue that she is going through the greatest adjustment, while my boys and I might argue otherwise. I’ll let you be the judge, but first I want to officially introduce my family members, not by name, but by nickname.

One of the clichés about volunteerism is the fact that you often get more than you give. In my case, it was in ways and means I least expected. I’ve just become a Big Brother, again, to a 7-year-old boy and a Mentor to a 22-year-old young man. As these relationships are new, I don’t yet know what lessons I will learn. But, I know well the lessons I learned the first time around.

I became a Big Brother, long before I was married or a parent. My life, at that time, was pretty heady. In my early 30’s, I had a successful showbiz career in which I was paid way too much for having so much fun, I lived in a lovely home in a chic part of town, had two cars, and no one to worry about other than myself.

As Mother’s Day rolls around once again, I find myself reflecting this year on the different obligations we feel towards those mothers in our lives, at different times and passages in our lives. As this is the second Mother’s Day since my own mother died, I can’t help but remember her with the fondest recollections, avoiding the sad, last, and declining years of her life when a stroke took away her sparkle and delightful personality.

Perspective is something that allows us to appreciate our lives, our families, and our country. Lately, with so much bad news surrounding us, and after just returning from Africa where such extreme poverty exists everywhere, I find myself reflecting on one of those “People” magazine-type stories about someone living through a life threatening experience and coming out a changed person. It’s a story I’ve shared with my boys, when they were upset about a trivial matter, as it happened to me.

Driving alone on 395, I fell asleep at the wheel. In the middle of nowhere with only my dog as company, and the cruise control set in the low 70s, I drifted off to sleep as the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon, in spite of a Monster drink (Red Bull equivalent) and in spite of stopping several times to stretch and do some jumping jacks. Lost in thought, I just slipped away to “Neverland.” Well, “Neverland” almost became just that; never more.