Eight years ago, my sister moved to Massachusetts. We’re close. When my son was born, she lived half an hour away, and we had weekly dinners, rotating between her house and mine. She was very close with my son. When my daughter was born, she had to move for her job.

My first trip with a child to visit her was when my daughter was ten months old — a quick hour-long flight. Not too bad.

But shortly after she turned two, we decided to drive. My husband was supposed to come, but for reasons I now forget, he needed to stay behind. I debated going by myself with both kids.

I reasoned that we’d been traveling to visit my parents, who lived about an hour and a half away. Granted, we usually tried to time it with naps, but that didn’t always work. They managed just fine.

So I thought… break it up.

• Two hours, stop for dinner.
  
• Another hour and a half or two, stop for PJs and teeth brushing.
  
• Then sail the rest of the way while they slept.
  

As I loaded the car, a mom friend laughed and said, “Just remember, you’re leaving as SuperMom.”
It was exactly the encouragement I needed — the little boost that said, You’ve got this.

And somehow, we’ve been doing it ever since.

The kicker?

We do it with no screens.

Totally like the 80s — minus the wood-paneled station wagon and unbuckled seat belts.

I never planned it that way. I just wanted to make it through a six-hour drive without anyone crying (including me).

My son mostly stares out the window. He gets carsick, so even though we try Dramamine and Sea-Bands, he’s too paranoid to do much else. My daughter has her little activity bag — a coloring book, a few games, some crayons that always seem to end up under the seat.

We sing. We snack. We play I Spy. We talk. They nap.

And yes, I still get the occasional “Are we there yet?” — because some traditions never die.

But here’s the thing — I think I love these drives.

They remind me of the long trips we took when I was a kid — six hours across the state to visit my grandparents. Back then, they felt endless. No tablets, no streaming, just cassette tapes my dad burned from 45s, the road, and him singing Jimmy Buffett’s “Fins” while leaning left and right behind the wheel. I rolled my eyes then. But now? I’d give anything for one more of those drives.

And maybe that’s what these trips are for my kids — hours that feel long now but will turn into the kind of memories that stick.

I never meant to create screen-free road trips. I just stumbled into them. But somewhere between the snack crumbs and the singalongs, I found a kind of peace I didn’t know I needed.

Maybe we’ll keep doing it this way. Maybe one day they’ll even thank me for it.
(Okay, probably not.)

But I’ll remember.
Because sometimes, the best traditions start with a desperate mom, a six-hour drive, and one friend’s words reminding you that you’re leaving as SuperMom.