Over the Plains, Summer 2022, and Travels with a Toddler

     This summer I took a drive from Northern Michigan to the Colorado Rockies with my husband (who shall be henceforth fondly termed under that name, or at times, when I feel cheesy, The Last Knight), and our then eleven-month-old daughter, whom I have not yet given a cheesy anonymous title.  (She is currently nearing fifteen months, and intimating that nursing her is more important than typing.  Excuse me.)

    That interlude complete, and the child trying to climb my chair with less distress, let's move on to that complicated topic, travel with small children.  

I plan to cover highlights of that trip in a series of posts, one of which I have already posted, but in setting out more from the beginning, I decided to cover something of the issue of driving twenty-two hours with a toddler.  I have now limited experience in long car trips, and camping with a toddler, and there are plenty of people wondering about that topic as they forge into a life with children.  Can it be done? Yes.  Is it a good idea? Yes, but it depends.  Once the children come, much of your life is geared, not toward yourself, but toward them.  In a way, that is quite freeing.  You simply no longer have the same freedom to do things as easily as you may have before, but the trade, anything you may give up, is worth it.  So whether or not you travel means thinking how it affects this little person you love.  Yet, it remains that an important part of a child's wellbeing is learning the lesson that the world does not revolve around them, and that they must also accommodate others.  Then you fall into the complex waters of what your own child can handle, what is reasonable to expect from them at a given age, and at what point you are actually forgetting their needs for the sake of your own desires.  And there is no perfect answer, which leaves parents struggling in the confusion of frustration with themselves and at times their children, and the guilt of wondering when you're doing wrong, in any direction.  The only hope I can give to the problem of no perfect answer, is how I might say it to myself, to simply remind that there is none, and relax a bit, you bundle of self-important worry.

    Here's how it went for us.  Daughter Adorable (eventually I'll get good one), was set to turn eleven months over the course of our trip.  She was then taking an hour or so late morning nap, and around an hour and a half in the afternoon.  She had been walking for about a month, and begun to eat some solids, in the form of purees, or well smashed things off my plate.  I hadn't pushed solids early on, so she may have been behind the normal expectations, but she was not behind on development for her age.  We had never taken a trip of over twenty hours with her yet, and since we didn't know what to expect, we planned to take at least three days driving both directions and enjoy the process, using naptimes for drive time, and be prepared for a nice time in Illinois or somewhere if the trip turned out to be too much for her.  Holding plans loose may be one of the best ways to avoid misery in child travel.

    We set out from home with child in seat and managed to reach Holland Michigan without great difficulty.  Our first day, we stopped to give her a long break at Dutch Village, which I mention because it was one of the times we enjoyed most, though it was merely a few hours from home, and it was a great way to give Miss Adventuress (I'm trying, alright), a good break.  Dutch village is well known to many in Michigan, as is Windmill Island, where stands the last genuine windmill to leave the Netherlands before they were held back to preserve Dutch history.  Though we didn't stop there on this trip, it is a worthwhile stop.  Having been built in the 18th century, it sheltered some hiding from the Nazi's during the occupation of the Netherlands, and still grinds today before the eyes of tourists.  The mill stands over a marsh, surrounded by gardened grounds.

    Dutch Village is more difficult to describe, part shops, part petting zoo, and part park, it is itself beautiful and a whisper of history.

    When her second nap came, we packed her up and went on.  This was a pattern we tried to repeat over the trip.  I found that at times she was happy on her own with one of those bath books, which she would read by way of cute noises to herself, and would not be destroyed when it went into her mouth.  I brought a selection of toys, and board books (which she loves), and switched them out every day or few days with different ones to keep them interesting.  At times she needed company, someone to play with her in the back seat, though she fell asleep for naps better when left alone.  Reading to her was a wonderful thing to keep her happy, and then there were snacks.  Though she was still mostly breastfed, baby food packets were wonderfully portable, and kept her entertained.  Often they helped her get through to our next stop before a feeding.  Now that she's older, she loves plain cheerios (which I always thought akin to parental abuse, but oddly enough are a favorite) and puffs while in the car, since they are less messy.  She also enjoyed some video chatting with family at home, which was fun to be able to do.

    These were useful methods, but they were not infallible.  Our fear of her deeply hating the car was just barely averted.  All told, she did very well, but there were some moments of last half hours before stopping that were filled with tears and struggle as we tried to find a place for the night where we could get her out of the seat at last.  Only in desperation did we pull forth our secret weapon: a YouTube video of a Yeshiva Choir singing Shalom Aleichem which she has always found weirdly mesmerizing.  When even this failed, we turned at last to the Māori war chants.  If my child can perform a perfect haka at the age of five, you will know it is because she spent too much time in the car.

    This post is too long to tell all about the crossing of the plains, but I can say we managed to make quite a few interesting breaks.  One was a little town somewhere along the way that had a beautiful little park where Little Princess got to try the swings, toddle about, and one of the adults got to spend some time up a tree.

  We also managed to visit what another patron on exiting called "The cutest museum ever", spanning the freeway on an enclosed bridge.  

I will not disclose the location of our secret mulberry patch.  

    Our first night camping she did beautifully because the weather was warm.  We brought a tent large enough for a playpen, and the playpen is what she used under canvass and under roof.  In the colder weather, layering pajamas and sleep sacks worked to a point, but in the end we had to limit camping to warmer locations for the child's sake.  Child camping experts can advise better on cold weather camping.  We chose not to try it.  Having her walking was very helpful, however, because then she could be safely on the ground at a campsite without being in the dirt as a crawling baby would have been.

    So as to traveling by car with a toddler, it can be done, but it may at times be stressful for adult and child.  Taking it slowly, and not taking your plans too seriously may be helpful.  Breaks help, driving while napping helps, snacks and books help.  Apparently Australian accents help.  Driving to your next destination in the wee hours of the morning while the baby sleeps because your tent collapsed on you in the mountain wind can help.  (See my vague comments about weather in my Antero Reservoir post)

Playpens, that invaluable traveling tool

A sample of the Knight's photography at a rest area on the plains

Finally, if my calling my husband The Last Knight when he in not actually a knight in the literal sense is confusing to my readership, I must offer that it is merely a fondness geared toward his gentlemanly behavior and his interest in pre-gunpowder weaponry.  If this offends Elton John, I suppose we can talk about it.  If it were the late Christopher Lee taking offense, then I'd have cause to be worried.