Traveling with toddlers can feel like trying to swallow glass shards while sipping saltwater—it’s an excruciating experience that often leads to chaos. I learned this lesson the hard way a few summers back.
In the spring of 2009, we made the ill-fated decision to turn a job interview into a family getaway. I wouldn’t recommend this to anyone, even if you’re trying to save a few bucks. Our journey lasted a staggering 12 hours, yes, 12 hours with a 4-year-old and a barely 2-year-old. It was a nightmare.
My normally sweet daughters could barely tolerate being strapped into those 5-point harnesses for a quick trip around town, let alone for an extended road adventure. Picture, if you will, their reaction to being confined for what felt like an eternity. I would have gladly leaped out of the car had someone attempted to buckle me into that torturous seat.
My eldest kept peppering us with “Are we there yet?” every 20 minutes. I used to find that phrase amusing in the context of parenting, but now I see it as a relentless reminder of the trials of traveling with children. The toll it took on my sanity was unexpected. I used to think that those moms who lost their cool just needed more patience; now I know better. The right tone and repetition of that question can push even the most composed adult to the brink.
Meanwhile, my youngest was in a full-blown panic over a gnat. Yes, a gnat! It must’ve been the scariest gnat in existence because she screamed for three hours straight. The combination of my oldest’s incessant questioning and my youngest’s terror left me on the edge of a mental breakdown. My poor husband was contemplating a visit to the nearest gunsmith.
I attempted to engage them with every trick in my arsenal, but the 1,200 DVDs I packed were futile. We colored, sang nursery rhymes, and repeated Subway’s catchy jingle about a “five-dollar footlong” more times than I could count. It was cute the first hundred times, but someone needed to learn about moderation. The chorus was only interrupted by the latest round of “Are we there yet?”
Our sanity frayed, we sought refuge during a lunch stop at a Wendy’s in West Virginia. I wasn’t thrilled about the location, considering the horror film Wrong Turn, but we needed a break. After ordering, and while supervising the undercooked food, a fly dared to invade our table. Absolute pandemonium erupted as my toddlers leapt around, screaming and crying as if a monster had descended upon us.
In a moment of desperation, I swatted the fly with my flip-flop, killing it right there in front of the other patrons. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, my youngest shouted, “EWWWW, FAArTED. Stinks!” Mortified, I dragged my girls out of the Wrong Turn Wendy’s, only to discover she hadn’t farted after all; she had merely blown out her diaper. It was the longest 12 hours of my life.
Ultimately, we arrived at our destination, a bit worse for wear but intact. It’s a testament to our family’s resilience that we made it through without needing a visit to an asylum or gun shop—except for that poor fly.
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In summary, road trips with toddlers are a wild ride filled with unexpected challenges, but they’re also a testament to family resilience and humor in the face of chaos.