I’ve had my fair share of wild conversations with my partner, but suggesting “Let’s take a road trip to Cleveland” might just top the list. It’s not that Cleveland isn’t great—it’s my hometown and one of the more charming places in the U.S. But a 2,400-mile trek from our home in San Diego? That’s pushing it a bit, especially considering we’ve welcomed three kids into our lives in the past three years!
Our first-day destination was Phoenix, where we hoped to snag a night at a swanky four-star hotel for around 65 bucks. This is typical for summer in Phoenix—just the right price for a family getaway. We figured the kids could manage the five-hour drive: a bit of napping, some screen time, and a few snacks to keep the peace. Easy, right? Not quite.
Less than two hours in, chaos erupted. All three boys were wailing like sirens. Normally, we could quell their cries with a toy or a snack, but today they were having none of it. Our almost three-year-old, the ringleader because of his age and vocabulary, demanded, “I wanna get out!”
After a quick stop at a less-than-ideal fast food joint, we resumed our journey. With a small bribe of french fries, our two older boys calmed down, or at least we thought. Fifteen minutes later, the peace was shattered once again.
We were crammed in a 6 x 15 Mazda minivan, and the boys’ relentless screaming was unbearable. The tension in my neck was a reminder of my helplessness. I looked at my partner, Kayla, and muttered, “Should we turn back?” But we both knew that wasn’t an option. The only thing I could focus on was getting to Phoenix, until the flashing lights of a police car appeared in my rearview mirror.
My past experiences with law enforcement were less than pleasant. I braced myself, hands firmly on the wheel, ready to code-switch from informal to formal speech. The officer approached, flashlight in hand, and asked about my speed.
“How fast was I going, officer?” I queried.
“87,” he replied skeptically.
I glanced at Kayla, who couldn’t hear over the commotion. “He said 87, but I doubt it…” I began calculating the ticket costs—$400, maybe more.
“Where are you headed?” he inquired. “Ohio, but just to Phoenix tonight,” I replied.
He assessed the scene in the back and, with a hint of understanding, decided to issue a fix-it ticket instead of a speeding one. We rolled into Phoenix four hours later, exhausted but relieved to find the kids fast asleep. After hauling the children and our bags to the suite, Kayla and I decided to unwind. One drink led to another, and before we knew it, we were having a grown-up moment until our three-year-old found us, looking perplexed. It was a surreal moment—happy parents, happy kids, right?
As we continued our journey through Arizona and New Mexico, we developed a strategy that made the trip somewhat tolerable. I drove mostly, with essential items like a baby toilet and cooler within reach. Kayla occupied the second row, stretching her arm to comfort the older boys while rocking the infant in his car seat.
We aimed to bypass small towns and reach a major city each day, stopping every two hours at malls and playgrounds. From Phoenix, we landed in surprisingly quiet Albuquerque, where we arrived late and immediately turned the hotel room into a playground.
The next morning, we faced a delay as the boys adjusted to their new surroundings, throwing tantrums and biting over toys. In a moment of desperation, we let them ride on the luggage cart, pushing it past the hotel staff while maintaining a façade of calm.
After finally hitting the road, the monotony of the blacktop began to blur together. We stopped in Amarillo, Texas, just in time for a Longhorn Cattle Drive, where a diverse crowd cheered for the cows. The kids were momentarily entertained until one of them threw a fit over not being allowed to ride a cow.
By the time we reached Oklahoma City, it was well past midnight. We had honed our hotel check-in routine: Kayla would grab the keys while I managed the kids and luggage. That night, I found a nearby convenience store that sold beer until 2 a.m., and I relished a couple of tall boys in the dark, letting the stress of the trip fade away.
Next was St. Louis, an eight-hour drive that would feel longer with the kids. Arriving in downtown, we navigated through concertgoers as the kids woke from their slumber. Our hotel was connected to a mall, which was great—until it closed for the night. Thankfully, a friendly concertgoer let us in.
Once settled, the boys went wild, jumping on beds and exploring the room. Despite the chaos, I couldn’t help but reminisce about my childhood trips and realize that my kids wouldn’t remember any of this.
We finally reached Ohio and Amber’s family a few days later. The weather was unexpectedly pleasant. Three generations gathered on my parents’ porch, engaging in the classic Midwestern pastime of gossiping. The boys put on quite a show for their grandparents, who laughed and exclaimed, “Look at those little rascals!”
Through the chaos and the memories, this trip reminded me of the joys of family, even if it felt like a circus at times. For more insights on making family dreams come true, check out this link. And for anyone considering starting a family, here’s an excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination: this link.
Summary
Jordan and Kayla embark on a cross-country road trip to Cleveland with their three young children, navigating the chaos of family travel while encountering challenges, delays, and unexpected moments of joy along the way. Their journey reflects the trials and triumphs of parenthood, proving that family adventures, despite their hurdles, create lasting memories.