Driving to Ontario from Nova Scotia would save money and reduce the environmental footprint of the family holiday. At least it seemed like a good idea at the time . . .

In these days of climate concerns, it is hard to know what the most responsible way to travel is. For short trips to the grocery store, I know I’m supposed to walk or bike, although how I’m supposed to get 20(reusable)bags of groceries on a bike after I’ve finished shopping has never been clear to me.

But there are places you simply can’t walk to from Halifax, such as Ontario, which is where my in-laws live. When we were planning our family vacation to visit them this year, I told my husband we should choose an environmentally friendly way to travel. He agreed in a hesitant, wary tone, perhaps wondering if I was going to suggest we balloon to Ontario, which I never would, because if your child needs a bathroom, it’s a long way down.

I was pleased when he agreed it would be irresponsible to go by airplane, but I soon realized his concerns were not the same as mine. While I was thinking of all that carbon burning into the atmosphere, he was thinking of all that cash burning out of our bank account. He was quite keen on the idea of driving up in our minivan instead. But he had one reservation. “It’s a long drive,” he said. “Do you think the kids will make it?”

In retrospect, I realize now this was the wrong question for him to have asked. First of all, he should have been more precise; for example, “Do you think the kids will make it without ripping each other into little tiny shreds?” But the real issue wasn’t the kids; it was the parents and the effect of the kids thereupon. So the question might have been better asked, “Will we be able to drive to Toronto and back with three children uneventfully, or will one of us end up sitting beside Highway 401 surrounded by suitcases, drinking gin directly out of the bottle, while her husband calls the police to take Mommy for a full psychiatric evaluation?”

There was only one way to find out.

We started the journey with my eldest daughter sitting in the very back of the van while my son and younger daughter sat nearer the front, theoretically separated by an aisle between them but, as I soon discovered, there is no distance sufficient to separate combatants in car seats short of attaching one of them to the roof. My husband drove, which I had hoped might mean I could sit back and enjoy the scenery, or perhaps read a book. That I even entertained this fantasy is indicative of how little I have learned from previous family vacations.

Not long into the first morning of driving, it became clear that a prime responsibility of mine was going to be multimedia management and tech support. I had brought with me a variety of child-appropriate CDs, such as the Black Eyed Peas. Actually, that hip-hop group’s CD is not the most appropriate for children, but by the third child, I’ve passed the point where I am able to listen to children’s entertainers while sober. The problem was, each child had his or her favourite song, and these I would play over and over, in rotation. There was something about hearing my three-year-old request Pump it that made me wonder if I was falling down on the parenting job. At least I persuaded my 10-year-old to choose a song other than My Humps.

When I could no longer stand the CD, I brought out the portable DVD player. This is a great invention, except it can only play one DVD at a time, which means you can’t watch both Scooby Doo and Hello Kitty simultaneously. Not that any rational adult would want to do so, but it wasn’t the rational adults who were running the show. I tried to allot screen time fairly and according to set criteria, such as who screamed the loudest.

As the battle for supremacy heated up in the back of the minivan, it became clear that my three-year-old daughter has a killer instinct that will serve her well in any future endeavour, be it cage wrestling or hospital committee work. She started off with covert moves, such as knocking the DVD player with her foot, then burst out with a direct offensive, whacking her brother over the head with a book. Then she laughed fiendishly while he bawled. The problem was my usual threat, to put her in time out, was an empty one, and saying I would turn off the movie was exactly what she wanted me to do anyway, as it would hurt her brother more than it would hurt her.

Fortunately, I had another trick up my sleeve or, rather, in my purse. Any book I have ever read on child-rearing tells you not to use candy to bribe children, and it seems like good advice, just like it’s good advice to jog five hours a day and eat nothing but vegetables and bran until you turn 80. So I would never, as a responsible physician, advocate bribing children with candy to make them behave. But if I were going to suggest it, Starburst candies would be the best, because they are individually wrapped and don’t leave a chocolate mess when dropped on the floor.

This, then, was how I spent the drive to Ontario. The energy required to be both manager and referee compromised somewhat my ability to also act as navigator, but the Gatineau region of Quebec(or was that Ontario?)was actually very scenic and I don’t share my husband’s need to travel faster than 60 kilometres per hour all the time.

Anyway, we made it there and we travelled safely home as well. By plane. Just kidding; there was no way we could fly home and leave the van up there, although I suggested to my husband he could keep it as part of the divorce settlement, as well as custody of the children, while I flew back to Halifax alone. But he told me it was just heat stroke and I should get back in the car, and we’d be home before I knew it.

So everything worked out fine, and we had a good time with our family, but next year, we’re going to do our part for the environment by vacationing some place close by. The grocery store sounds like a good option. I’ll take my bike.

Lara Hazelton is a psychiatrist in Halifax.