Subtitle — Road trips and labor: two things I don’t repeat until I’ve forgotten how they went the last time.
Seriously, though. We do a 2,000 mile road trip every summer to California and back with four kids. We’re pretty good at it. I start to look forward to it at the beginning of every summer, and once we’re done, I swear I’ll never do it again. Just like I did each of the four times I was in labor.
You, too? Just in case, and to make you feel better, here are a few of the things I’ve actually said out loud on these trips.
“We’ll be there when we get there”
In my defense, that is a true thing, what I said right there. It’s just not especially useful. After 15 rounds of answering, “Are we there yet?” I tend to start giving ridiculous answers like “Only 27 more days to go,” or “Are we ever really ‘there’? In the grand striving of this life, do we ever really arrive?” The kids get really annoyed but it amuses me.
“Alright, everybody. Time to go to the bathroom”
Speaking of amusing, this is a good one. Every time we stop to eat, or stretch our legs, I say this. It seems logical and I think I display some admirable foresight here. However. Anyone who actually has kids knows they don’t go to the bathroom when said bathrooms are conveniently located in rest stops or restaurants. They wait until 15 minutes after you’ve passed the “No Services for 90 Miles” sign to announce proudly and insistently that they need to go right now, and you must rummage for an empty soda carton or stop at the side of the road, form a human screen from traffic, and pray the fence they’re aiming at is not electric.
“What’s that man doing?”
That man was, in fact, an impressively burly trucker with a beautifully cultivated beard that cascaded to his belt buckle. He was standing where we had just pulled out at a rest stop, jumping up and down and waving a pink fuzzy blanket that would have meant devastation for our 3-year old if we’d forgotten it. And I want you to know, Mr. Burly Trucker Man Who Saved Our Pink Blanket — I’ve never loved anyone more.
“On what planet is it a good idea to give kids open tubs of pesto dip in a car???”
The answer is no planets. On no planets is it a good idea to give kids unprotected liquids for dipping things in a moving vehicle. Again, not a helpful thing to ask my husband as he was trying to clean oily, fragrant pesto from in between the seats, but I couldn’t help it. I don’t even know if the kids like pesto. I still don’t, because they spilled the entire container and it was 600 miles before we stopped smelling like an Italian eatery.
“Where’s that smoke coming from?”
Yeahhhh, the smoke was coming from the transmission. 400 miles from home, on the outskirts of a lovely mountain town (if you ever need a mechanic in Durango, Colorado, I now have a guy). And because no one listened to their mother when she made Comment #2, there were some tense moments waiting for the tow truck without a soda carton or roadside fence in sight. Which meant I got to give my favorite comment of all.
“I told you so.”
If it makes you feel any better, I’m certain the worst road trips make the best stories. Do you have any good stories from trips your family has taken?
CommentsI have some actual, useful road trip tips here, if you’d like to check ’em out.
For more kids’ activities and easy recipes, you can find Laura at Peace but not Quiet, and on facebook and Pinterest.
