Life Lines
By Mary DeTurris Poust
Columnist
Over the river and through the woods …
I decided to take the kids away for a long weekend recently so Dennis could paint our kitchen and prep it for some major renovations that were just days away. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but even the best-laid plans have a way of making us shake our heads and wonder what we could have been thinking.
We headed out on a rainy Saturday morning for the four-hour drive. Anyone who has children, one of them under 2 years old, can tell you that when you’re toting three children on a weekend “getaway” — and I’m using that term very loosely — it doesn’t matter if you’re staying for two nights or 10 nights because you will have to cart so much equipment and entertainment with you that you might as well slap a Ringling Bros. sign on the side of van.
We had games and videos and diapers and a travel bed and a high chair and a computer so I could work and, because somewhere along the way I lost my mind, some reading material. I actually brought Charles Dickens’ Bleak House, as if I would have time to sit down with an 880-page novel amid the chaos. I took some small comfort in knowing that at least if I got a flat tire my epic novel would certainly be able to serve in place of a cinder block when jacking up the van.
As we drove along the New York State Thruway and then the Garden State Parkway, all was calm, too calm in fact. Noah, 10, and Olivia, 6, were watching videos or reading. Chiara, 18 months, was sleeping. I was singing along to the music. Well, this was a good idea! Then the baby woke up. Let the games begin.
Chiara immediately began doing what she always does when traveling by car, whether it’s down the road or across state lines. She started screaming for her shoes to be removed and eventually her socks as well, which is not an easy thing to do from the driver’s seat at 65 m.p.h.
Despite the onset of insanity, we still managed to stop at Chiara’s godfather’s house for a visit and a lunch break, which involved a failed attempt to eat at Friendly’s — I won’t point any fingers, but let’s just say the culprit is less than three feet tall — and a successful outing to a pizza place.
A few hours later and much revived, we headed back out onto the highway, only to be met by bumper-to-bumper traffic. Are you getting the gist here? I don’t want to bore you with any more details, but let’s just say that we had not yet hit bottom.
And yet, when all was said and done, it really wasn’t a bad weekend at all. I guess what I have to remember when traveling with kids is that even though it sometimes seems to me like a complete disaster, it is a huge adventure for them. They get to sleep on a fold-out couch, stay up late, watch too much TV and make ice cream sundaes and go with Grandpa to buy bagels in the morning. For them, it doesn’t get any better than that.
So even though I was sleep deprived because Chiara couldn’t seem to make the adjustment from New York to New Jersey time, we ended up having a very nice visit with Grandpa and Grandma. And when Grandma Doreen decided to take all three children out to the park for 90 minutes on Sunday afternoon, I breezed through at least four whole pages of Bleak House. I should be finished by the time I’m 60, I’d say, or right about the time I’m ready to take another weekend trip with the kids.
Mary DeTurris Poust may be contacted at marypoust@gmail.com.
*The attached/referenced article was originally published in The Catholic Spirit, the official newspaper of the Diocese of Metuchen, and is protected under U.S. and international copyright law