Vacationing parents find it is better to outnumber the offspring

OLD ORCHARD BEACH, MAINE - Sometimes, it takes a village to have a family vacation.

It's a modern approach to the oldest of summer traditions. A nuclear family is fine, in theory. But parents of young children know the truth: Backup is crucial when it comes to chasing down sippy cups, hunting for misplaced pink Crocs, corralling toddlers intent on dashing into the ocean, and refereeing who gets to use the boogie board first.

Families who adopted the team approach to child care during a recent visit to the Maine coast said they hoped the addition of co-parents would give them a chance to relax, too.

Karo Lyne Lachance, who drove to this beachside vacation town from her home in Quebec with three children under the age of 4, brought along five other adults.

The 2-to-1 ratio worked perfectly, said the 25-year-old mother, who spent childhood summers at Old Orchard Beach and wanted to share "the smell and sound of the ocean" with her own little ones. They all spent three days enjoying the beach and strolling along the old-timey pier and arcade.

Lachance said her best friend, Marie Claude, "loved playing in the sand with my kids."

The Borges and Rocha families of Taunton also subscribe to the strength-in-numbers philosophy. Jennifer Rocha and Linda Borges have been friends since meeting in grammar school 22 years ago, and their husbands travel well together, too.

Another benefit is that traveling with the Rochas' 13-year-old daughter, Amelia, makes his own 10- and 12-year-old children squabble less, said Carlos Borges.

"The good thing is we just agree on stuff we like to do and enjoy," he said. "Going with [the Rochas], we just seem to have more fun than being by ourselves."

But for parents attempting a first-ever family vacation, the desire to strike out alone is powerful. This is how I felt while planning a trip with our very small, very active toddlers, Dennis and Lila.

I chose Old Orchard as our first stop because of its legendary status as a family destination. It's a place so worn around the edges by frazzled parents that waitresses bring milk in spillproof cups without being asked. A two-hour drive from the Boston suburbs, it's far enough to feel like you've been away and close enough to retreat back home if things go horribly wrong.

But for us, things almost didn't go at all when my husband, David, made a startling confession: He was dreading the trip.

"I think it's going to be like climbing K2 without a sherpa," he said. "Grueling. Hard work. Not fun."

Couldn't he have mentioned this in January, back when I was making reservations? I fumed while jamming a bulky portable crib, stroller, beach towels, and something like 10,000 spare diapers into the too-small trunk of my 2000 Altima.

We weren't canceling, though, because I had something to prove with these five nights away, first to the beach in Maine, and then onward through Vermont to Montreal.

This wouldn't be our typical few hours at the playground, and there would be no preschool teachers, no grandparents, no episodes of "Bob the Builder" to save us from the rigors of extreme parenting. I saw the trip as a test of how well we could function in the world as a family unit - for better or worse - the way marriage had felt in the early years.

The next morning, we piled into the car, Dave with gritted teeth, me overcompensating for his gloominess with hyper-enthusiastic chatter. The children were whining and demanding Munchkins before we were even out of Natick.

Privately, I considered whether we'd have to cut this whole thing short and drive back home in disgrace.

But the day passed quickly, and so did the ones that followed. The weather was sunny and glorious, and while covering 750 miles of highway, the four of us managed to have a great time together.

It wasn't perfect. There was the shattered breakfast juice glass in a motel, Dennis's restaurant meltdown over too-hot-to-eat french fries in Montreal, and my own tantrum in Waterbury, Vt., after Dave refused to allow us a few extra minutes to tour the Ben & Jerry's Factory Flavor Graveyard.

By the time we pulled into our own driveway - tired, but content - we had settled into intuitive rhythm with the children. We cocooned comfortably for the last few days at home before getting back to work.

My car was the unexpected casualty.

It came home littered with ice cream smears, straw wrappers, fishy-smelling seashells, and petrified McNuggets.

I'm surprised it didn't pull a move like the magical Ford Anglia in the " Harry Potter" series - eject us and the luggage onto the front lawn and drive away in search of a cleaner family.

Next summer, I know to reserve part of the family vacation budget for a posttrip vacuum and detailing.

Speaking of next year, the Lachance, Rocha, and Borges families say they hope to make it back to Old Orchard. We do, too, although I'd like to take a lesson from them - and bring reinforcements.

Erica Noonan, the bureau chief of Globe West, can be reached at enoonan@globe.com