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The Challenge of Driving with Crying Kids
by Alex Johnson
Updated: November 19, 2016
Originally Published: October 14, 2016
I was navigating the roads in our minivan, the sound of a wailing baby echoing from the backseat. Beside me, my wife, Sarah, stared out the window, her left hand gripping her pants while her right rested on the armrest, her face cradled in her palm. In the rear, my son, Lucas, aged 7, and my daughter, Mia, aged 5, had their hands pressed against their ears. We were merely ten minutes from home, yet it felt like we were stuck in traffic for hours. Our 5-month-old, Lily, was in a mood and making sure we were all aware of it. Her cries oscillated between a sorrowful whimper and a panicked wail.
Before we even got into the van, we had checked her diaper and offered her some milk — the usual attempts to soothe her. Clearly, that wasn’t enough, or perhaps something else was troubling her. With the next exit being ours, we pressed on, even though every minute felt like an eternity with a crying baby in the car.
In the midst of this chaos, my 5-year-old asked for her mother’s phone. Initially, we didn’t catch what she said, which only led to her growing frustration. Once we understood, we told her no, as Mom’s phone was off-limits. However, given the baby’s constant screaming, it’s likely our tone wasn’t the most diplomatic.
This only led Mia to start crying as well. She kicked her feet, pounded her tiny fists, and let out an ear-piercing scream, creating a chaotic symphony with Lily’s cries. Lucas, caught in the crossfire, pressed his hands over his ears, his eyes misty, unsure of how to help.
But honestly, what could we do to make it stop? Sarah leaned back, attempting to soothe Mia, but nothing seemed to work. At that moment, I pondered what could possibly be worse than driving a minivan filled with a screaming baby and a tantrum-throwing 5-year-old. My mind drew a blank.
Teaching kids how to deal with frustration is no easy feat, and it’s easy to respond with anger or to take their meltdowns to heart. It’s tempting to give in to their demands just to restore some peace, but then I’m left with the nagging worry that it’s the wrong approach, potentially shaping them into entitled individuals.
Yet, on the flip side, never giving in feels like I’m being a tyrant — a strict father who doesn’t bend. Parenting is anything but straightforward. It’s a complex mix of emotions and decisions that change with each child and situation.
Eventually, Sarah decided to give Mia a piece of candy instead of the phone, stirring up jealousy in Lucas. “Can I have some?” he asked, his face flushed.
“That was the last piece,” Sarah replied.
Mia smirked at her brother, her lips busy chewing chocolate. Meanwhile, Lily continued to cry, and Lucas felt left out and frustrated, while Mia was downright pleased. Sarah assured Lucas that we’d get him some candy when we got home because, with kids, fairness is paramount, even when life rarely plays out that way.
As I approached our exit, exhaustion washed over me, a familiar feeling after a long drive with screaming children. It was past 9 p.m., and my thoughts shifted to work. I had an online class to teach, and I needed to finish grading before I could even think about sleep.
As I drove, I considered how long it would take to settle the kids and get them to bed. I thought about the workload waiting for me and how I’d be up late yet again. I questioned why I put myself through this — why I was trying so hard to be a parent. In the thick of a rough parenting day, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed and angry, emotions reminiscent of Lucas’s feelings when he saw Mia enjoying her candy.
I had always envisioned parenting as a sweet, rewarding experience, akin to the idealized portrayals from 1950s television shows, but that was not the reality. Until that moment, it had mostly been a cacophony of cries.
I contemplated pulling over, stepping out of the van, and disappearing into the night, longing for silence, for sleep, for anything but the chaos of that minivan.
In total, I endured about 20 minutes of driving with a screaming baby, but it felt significantly longer. Once the children were finally asleep, and I had completed my work, I lay in bed staring at the dark ceiling, a smile creeping onto my face. I couldn’t quite grasp why, but it felt right. Laughter bubbled up unexpectedly as I reflected on the absurdity of it all. I chuckled at Lucas’s reaction to missing out on the chocolate, at my own desire to escape, and how silly that impulse was. It was a laugh that rang somewhere between relief and madness. I laughed because it was over.
Yet, I also recognized that I probably shouldn’t be laughing; I should be exhausted. But instead, I found humor in the chaos. This, I suppose, is parenting. It’s reminiscent of what my mother used to say: “One day, you’ll look back and laugh at all this.” While this moment might have come sooner than expected, it was a welcome relief after another long evening spent driving with screaming kids.
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Summary
Navigating the chaos of parenting can often feel overwhelming, especially during moments like a car ride filled with screaming children. In the midst of frustration and the desire for peace, there are moments of laughter and relief that remind us of the joy in parenting. While it can be challenging, the shared experiences and the eventual ability to look back and laugh provide a poignant reminder of the journey.