T raveling with kids is one of the dark experiences of life that parents aren't told about before they have children. I caught my first glimpse of what the future held when my firstborn fought being placed in her car seat, screaming, "No! No! Out! Out!"

Later that year, my husband and I traveled to my parents' home. The trip went fine—if you like driving a thousand miles shouting back and forth to your spouse, one at the wheel (the lucky one) and one in the back seat shaking rattles, offering sips of juice, wiping up gummed-to-death bits of crackers and looking out the window with a desperate longing to be OUT THERE, anywhere but stuck in a car for two days with an unhappy child.

Two kids later, those early trips seem like a piece of cake. We now pack our three young children into a minivan while longing for a bus. With a toilet.

We've learned a lot. For example, at major city pit stops (where I'm sure a kazillion kid-snatchers must be lurking) I've learned to get the kids to and from the bathroom in relative safety while my husband is filling the gas tank. This I achieve by reviewing instructions on how to hold tightly to Mama's hand (for the four-year-old), how to walk closely on the other side of Mama (for the seven-year-old), and how to help if the youngest wiggles out of Mama's arms or throws her to the pavement with his weight. And I'm pretty good at carrying a diaper bag as though it's a lethal weapon. Anyone approaches us, and that diaper bag is going to do some serious damage.

My husband and I have driven everywhere except to the Grand Canyon, and that's only because we're afraid we might jump off once we get there. We once had a tire about to blow out on the West Virginia Turnpike. It took me a while to figure out why everyone was gesticulating wildly as they passed us. I thought they were just congratulating me on the good thing I had going: My husband was in the back seat with the kids. Eventually, I deciphered the real message: "Get off the road!"

As last year's Thanksgiving trip approached, I prepared like never before. Food, candy, drinks, wipes, diapers, music tapes, markers, crayons, stickers, pillows, Duckie, Blankie, Lambie, windowshades to keep the sun out, apples, library books, books on tape, dolls and toy trains. And that was all for the first half hour.

During the second half hour I pulled out my secret stash of special toys we reserve just for traveling. By the third half hour, I had thrown each offspring a new, cheap toy from the drugstore. These were special surprises that each child had to open without assistance, no matter how tough the packaging. (A good way to use up two more minutes.)

Not that it helped much. Before we'd gone half a mile our two-year-old said, "Want to go home now, Da-Da." He repeated this periodically throughout the nine-hour trip. By the time we arrived back home on Sunday, we had stopped at the Waffle House (where our slanting table thrilled the kids and kept us grabbing for the syrup), stopped at McDonald's (but not to actually eat there. One parent gets the food while the other stakes out the play area, watching the kids have fun. Then we eat in the car), stopped for toilet breaks, stopped for coffee to keep me and my husband awake, and threatened to stop numerous times "If you kids don't settle down right now!"

Two weeks later my husband and I began contemplating the next trip, for Christmas with the other side of our family. I became so emotional I had to lie down. When my husband found me, he questioned our sanity for ever traveling with children, for living so far from our parents, for not using our frequent flyer miles. I sat bolt upright and said, "You don't mean you'd cash those in? They're for our trip this summer without the kids. You wouldn't, would you?"

When the two youngest and I stepped off the plane ten days later (Dad and the oldest flew in later) for more turkey, presents and the grandparents' 40th anniversary bash, I still mumbled about the trip. And I still collapsed. But what are three layovers compared to what feels like three years in the car?

I felt ready to circle the globe. Without the kids, of course.

Freelance writer Andrea Midgett wrote this article while preparing for yet another family excursion. Forty-eight hours to departure, and she had already suffered two panic attacks.

Copyright © 1995 by the author or Christianity Today International/MARRIAGE PARTNERSHIP magazine. For reprint information call 630-260-6200.