Are We There Yet?

It seems that when traveling any distance over 150 miles with kids, you just can’t win. You take to the skies and you are dealing with security restrictions, long lines, expensive tickets, unexpected delays and the inevitable embarrassment of a mid-flight meltdown.

Your next alternative, driving, leaves you with becoming all-too-familiar with every rest stop, gas station and restaurant along your route, sour milk spills on the car seat upholstery, inconsolable crying fits, and at least two extra hours tagged onto your ETA.

As the youngest member of a family of four, we almost never flew anywhere. Instead, my father crammed our six-man clan into our German sedan, the three oldest kids knee to knee in the back seat and me often crammed between my mother’s feet in the front seat. Yes, you read that correctly. I rode in the place in the car traditionally reserved for a layer cake or casserole.

Having driven from Boston to Tennessee and back again (950 miles each direction) in less than a week over the Fourth of July holiday, with Joe at the wheel and the Meemers seated behind us, I realized just how patient my parents must have been. Despite the numerous threats to pull the car over and beat my siblings within inches of their lives if they didn’t settle down and stop fighting, we always made it to our destination, many times stopping only for gas or a drive-through meal on the 24-hour drive to Disney World, Orlando.

The trip down to Tennessee was not so terrible. We left our house at 7:00 pm, hit a drive-through for dinner and stopped for gas and diaper changes 4 times. We arrived in Tennessee, right on schedule, at 10:15 the next morning. The Meemers did great. She slept almost the entire time we were in the car and complained only briefly when her Woobie (lovey blanket) hit the floor and once again when I refused her request for more Bunny Grahams. The drive back to Boston however was a different story.

My sister’s husband is currently serving his third term of deployment in Iraq. To give her a break and lend a hand with her kids, we met their family at my brother’s house in Tennessee and agreed to take the children home to Boston for a week. Sounds easy enough, right? After all, living all of their lives in distant parts of the country, at only 5 and 6 years of age, these kids were road trip professionals. The problem is that Joe and I are not.

Parenting a one year old, we know one year olds. MeMo lets out half a cry and we can immediately interpret her distress. Her needs are basic: food, a clean diaper, a bottle of milk and Woobie. This is what Joe and I know. So when we secured the third seat belt and began our drive, we thought it would be just as simple as the ride down. Unfortunately, there were some serious miscalculations on our end, due only to poor planning, also on our end.

Everyone used the potty before leaving my brother’s house in Tennessee, the gas tank was full, we had just eaten an early dinner and each child was armed with an attention-grabbing activity. We thought for sure that these preparations would buy us a good four hours before having to stop. If you are not the parent of a child over three, you might have thought so too.

Fifteen minutes after pulling from the driveway and waving furiously from our windows, the first request came from the backseat. “Aunt Robyn, I have to pee pee!”. “Pee pee? Pee pee? You just pee peed right before we left. How could you possibly have to go again?” I asked actually expecting an answer from a five year old who knew nothing about why she had to pee, but only that she did in fact have to pee. Joe pulled into the nearest gas station for Stop Number One. We hadn’t even hit the highway yet.

Back in the car, the requests immediately resumed for snacks, a change of music, a family sing-along, rescue from boredom and of course, drinks. Within 30 minutes, we were stopped again – another bathroom break, this time for the 6 year-old.

Over the course of the children’s waking hours in the car, we stopped at 4 gas stations, 3 rest stops, and one restaurant. The waking hours totaled four and a half hours.

It wasn’t the kids’ fault of course. I mean after all, they’re kids, who don’t like to do anything for more than 15 minutes at a time, let alone be strapped into a booster car seat with a single boring game each, far too few snacks and an aunt who cut them off from all beverages after the third bathroom break. Though the ride was certainly challenging, I did learn one thing about traveling with children: be prepared. Below is my future road trip travel list should I ever find myself mentally instable enough to attempt a journey of this proportion with a trio of pint-sized travelers seated behind me:

1. Low-sugar snacks: candy sure seemed like a good pacifying method at the time. That is until the sugar high and low kicked in and we found ourselves operating a kinder-methadone clinic from the front seats.
2. Pint-sized water bottles that can be rationed 1 for every two hours. Sound harsh? Look people, we’re not crossing the Sahara here.
3. Ample activities, games and toys with as few required pieces as possible and two of each of these to avoid any back seat struggles for possession.
4. One wet washcloth sealed in a plastic bag per child.
5. Several small bags for trash.
6. A variety of music, and for your own sake, nothing by Raffi, Barney, or The Wiggles.
7. Any necessary sleep aid for each child (loveies, pillows, blankets, duct tape – just kidding, etc.)
8. One bottle of Valium, for the non-driving adult; ear plugs and a pre-meditated mental “happy place” for the driving adult.

Traveling with kids will never be easy, but it can be a little more comfortable with some proper planning and some solid prescription strength drugs. For now, though, I think we’ll enjoy our days in Boston and stick to day trips for respite from the city.