Rachael Mogan McIntosh recently went on a 2000km road trip with her husband and three kids.
MY HUSBAND Keith and I hit the road recently with our three children, aged eight, seven and four.
Against all modern notions of parenting wisdom, we gave them no screens or devices to distract them, or (perhaps more importantly) to protect us from their kid madness. Two-thousand kilometres. Three kids. No anaesthetic.
Can this be done, I wondered, without antidepressant medication, threats of divorce or hours spent weeping in the foetal position? Yes, I answered myself, like a loony, or a politician, or both. Yes it can!
But here is what you need to be prepared for:
1. BE PREPARED TO EMBRACE THE MOTEL PARTY
At the cheap end of the spectrum, a family-room in a regional motel always has some quirky character, sometimes involving bloodstains at no extra cost. A motel party involves pizza, long-life milk and little packets of biscuits from the kitchenette.
Nights are spent lying around five-in-a-bed and watching regional TV ads, or playing weird motel room games. They are possibly the best parties ever.
Who needs screens when you can play with rocks in the desert. Picture: Rachael Mogan McIntoshSource:Supplied
2. BE PREPARED THAT YOUR KIDS MIGHT SEEM PSYCHO
‘Back seat land’ has its own language and culture, and it gets weirder with every hour that passes. Your big kids, might, for instance, stop playing Flesh Eating Zombies only to teach your youngest a poem that begins ‘Little Johnny took a match and set fire to his bum’.
Of course, you’ll be glad she’s learning poetry, and yet …
At about day three, ours start playing a game they called ‘Sleepy Byes’. One child would start a backbeat, like this: ‘Sleepy Byes, don’t go to sleep, Sleepy Byes, don’t go to sleep’ and then another would drop a rap on top, freestyling along these lines: ‘Don’t go to sleep! Never wake up! You are a zombie! Eating brains! You will die! Blood blood blood!’ and so on.
‘Bless their creative hearts,’ you will say to your husband. ‘We need to talk about Kevin,’ he’ll reply.
3. BE PREPARED TO MISTAKE YOUR HUSBAND FOR A SEX PEST
At some point Keith buys a hat and a pair of sunnies with a creepy, Disco-Stu-in-the-desert vibe from an outback servo. I’m filling water bottles and daydreaming when he suddenly appears at my elbow. My brain doesn’t register who he is for a moment, and in that brief second, his scruffy beard, bare feet, creepy sunglasses and dirty jeans ring an internal alarm. ‘Danger!’ it says. ‘Wolf Creek alert!’
A second later I realise he’s the man I married. Road trips: they can keep that dangerous spark in your marriage alive.
Keith. Not a sex pest. Picture: Rachael Mogan McIntoshSource:Supplied
4. BE PREPARED TO MEET INTERESTING PEOPLE
By the side of a red dirt highway outside Broken Hill we see a car with its hood up. Keith pulls over and asks if anybody needs a hand. Up pops a burly, beaming young bloke with a rollie hanging from his bottom lip. ‘Blew a f***in’ axel mate!’ he shouts. ‘Me mates coming in from town but! Cheers for f***in’ stopping but!’
In town I overhear two locals throwing shade on another. ‘Oh her!’ one says. ‘She’s the smelliest b***h in town!’
Talking to locals is one of the best parts of travelling. The conversations are gold.
When we ask at one motel whether there’s an Italian restaurant in town, the receptionist shakes her head. ‘Nothing like that around here, love’, she says. ‘But you could try that ‘Al Frescoes’. I think they’ve got pasta and that.’
5. BE PREPARED FOR SCREEN-FREE SHENANIGANS
Don’t fear the wild decision to go screen-free. It works fine for us, despite one incident when the children draw a television on a piece of paper, and then have a massive fight about what to watch on it.
Be prepared, however, to spend serious time negotiating the shenanigans of back seat land, like when eight year olds make a paper origami cup and then pour a bottle of water into it (experiment unsuccessful).
Also, children will work around the restrictions of booster seats and straps to inflict physical violence on each other. We had one Holyfield/Tyson style ear-biting incident, and several territorial battles that took complex diplomatic negotiation to resolve.
Your best option in these moments is to practice that underrated parental art of being not present in the moment, ie, leaning out the window and imagining yourself far, far away; in Bali, perhaps, where an Italian manservant in insufficient clothing pours your coffee and murmurs compliments about your hair.
6. BE PREPARED TO SEE EVERYDAY LIFE WITH NEW EYES OF GRATITUDE
After you spend a week in a tin can with four other people, luxuries like coffee-makers, washing machines, Netflix and personal space take on a fresh light.
They are like glowing gemstones in a magic suitcase, miraculous wonders of modern life. Of course, this gratitude fades pretty quickly and you will return to your usual grouchy, entitled self. At this point, it’s time to book in another road trip.
And sometimes you can be grateful for little moments like this. Picture: Rachael Mogan McIntoshSource:Supplied
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