Wednesday, September 3, 2014

Backseat chaos pushes Dad to the edge

Many a special memory is born on long road trips with the family, though some of those ‘memories’ a guy might just as soon forget.

For my family, summer usually means at least a few journeys down the highway, be it camping trips or visits to the family farms.

My wife, Amanda, has become an expert on packing the essentials for keeping our two young boys occupied during long hours restricted to the confines of their car seats.

The checklist for a four-plus hour trip includes:
- Goldfish crackers
- Baggies of Cheerios
- Sippy cups
- Minimum five small toys per boy
- Blankies
- iPad or iPhone loaded with movies and simple games
- Diapers
- Diaper wipes (lots)
- TimBits
- CD of annoying kids songs

The first hour is usually peaceful enough. The boys chatter back and forth and ask questions about cows, horses, tractors and whatever else they might see out the window. If we’re lucky, they’ll fall asleep for an hour, giving Mom and Dad a rare opportunity for uninterrupted conversation.

By Hour Two, they’re getting fidgety. With the threat of tantrums looming, Amanda doles out snacks, which buys precious minutes of peace and quiet.

When the snacks are done, electronic gadgets entertain them for another half hour or so. After that, it’s probably time for a pee break and a roadside diaper change. While Amanda does the dirty work, it’s usually my job to take the older one around to the side of the truck and wait while he tries to draw pee designs on the tire. If he finishes without getting any urine on himself, or me, it’s considered a successful pit stop.

Once back on the road, it’s time for the annoying kid music, featuring a choir of pitchy adolescents belting out timeless classics like, Wheels on the Bus, Bill Grogan’s Goat, and The Ants Go Marching.

At Hour 4, all hell breaks looks. The one-year-old begins grunting loudly while straining against his harness, as if he’s about to transform into the Incredible Hulk. The older one begins whining in a nasally tone that all dads know about – that awful noise that seems specifically designed to push a man’s patience to the breaking point.

It’s around this time that Amanda starts watching me nervously, as if she fears I might just black out from an inability to cope with the hellish cacophony of Mary Had A Little Lamb competing with the two screeching banshees directly behind me.

When we finally arrive at our destination, everybody springs from the car, which now reeks of fast food and soiled diapers. The kids, freed from their restraints, instantly transform from angry monsters into giddy little kittens, skipping around giggling crazily.

I climb from the drivers sear, stretch my legs, savour the fresh air – and begin preparing myself for the long drive home.


Leo Paré is a former Advocate editor. Email him at newsdeadline@gmail.com or follow him on Twitter at twitter.com/LeoPare

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