So I was that kid. The one that made road trips… difficult. Motion sickness was a real thing. A REAL. BIG. THING. Not a question of IF Ana would get sick in the car, but WHEN she does, how are we going to deal with it?
My poor parents. Looking back now, as a parent, I understand the stress that must have put on them. Traveling with kids is a unique kind of torture that few understand. Ok maybe not torture, but let's just say that road tripping with children should be something every person has to do before they are allowed to reproduce. (BTW I'm sure this is just unique to my family. I'm 100% sure that your children are perfect angels that fall asleep as soon as the seat belt clicks and have 10 gallon bladders. I'm sure they all get along and can agree on the radio station no matter what. I'm positive that no one ever gets upset about their sibling looking at them "weird" or throws a fit for the next kid touching them. I'm sure.) But those turbulent hours were made all the more interesting by the fact that at any moment, Ana could blow.
If you have one of those kids (or you were one of those kids) you probably remember the look on your parents' faces each time they hit a bump in the road. At every curvy stretch of road they look at you in the rearview mirror, sweat and fear in their eyes, trying to discern if you were going to ralph all over your brother.
It's my mom's face I remember in the rearview. My mom was the all-time driver (I think she called dibs at the wedding. Probably wrote it in the vows.) and my dad was the laid back guy who would read with his feet on the dashboard and was perfectly content to let her take the wheel. So it was Dad that got stuck in the back seat with the other two kids after the first three stops and the full change of clothes. I remember my mom taking care of me in the bathroom at a rest stop. Washing me as best she could in the sink. Trying to keep me calm while I cried because being sick just sucks, and I was embarrassed. My mom who I can only imagine would give the stink eye to anyone who came in that bathroom and made a face about us bathing in public. Thanks, Mom.
So the moral of the story, kids? Peppermint.