Are We There Yet? Love, Snacks and the Tournament Road Trip

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It was 4:52 a.m. on a Saturday in May, and I was standing in my driveway in the dark, holding a travel mug, a bag of orange slices and a single cleat that belonged to no one.

Somewhere inside the house, three children were "almost ready." Somewhere four hours away, a tournament was starting at 8:00 sharp. And somewhere in my car, I was fairly certain, a banana from spring break was quietly becoming a science fair project.

Some women have long-distance relationships. I have tournament weekends. And as I backed out of the driveway with a cooler sliding across the trunk like a hockey puck, I couldn't help but wonder: is the road trip the most committed relationship a sports mom will ever have?

The front seat is my corner office

I coached Division I for fifteen years. I have run practice plans down to the minute and managed travel for entire rosters. None of that prepared me for trying to find a pen, a hair tie and the hotel confirmation number at a red light while someone in the back row announces they "kind of" have to go to the bathroom.

Enter the High Road front seat organizer. It sits on the passenger seat with a tray, cup holders and pockets for everything, and it turned my car into a corner office with better snacks. If you need more room for a laptop or a tablet, the Tidify front seat organizer is its overachieving cousin. And for the purse that keeps sliding to the floor every time you brake? Let's just say a 13-pocket utility tote that stands up on its own changed my marriage to my passenger seat.

The back row: a love story with conditions

I adore my children. I also know exactly what the back of my seat looked like before I bought kick mats. It looked like a crime scene that had been processed by toddlers.

The Helteko backseat organizers hang on the back of each seat with tablet holders and nine pockets, and the Oneyus version adds a fold-down tray for lunch on the go. For the little ones, a Lusso Gear lap tray doubles as a dry-erase desk, which buys you approximately forty-five minutes of peace and one drawing of you that you'll pretend is flattering.

And then there's the trash. Every road trip produces roughly nine pounds of granola bar wrappers per child. The Farasla car trash can is leakproof, hangs anywhere and has quietly saved my floor mats from a lifetime of shame.

Snacks: the real currency of youth sports

I used to pack snacks in a gallon zip bag and pray. Then someone in the bleachers pulled out a snackle box, a clear divided container with eight little compartments of grapes, crackers, cheese and those chocolate-covered pretzels nobody admits to buying for themselves. I watched three children who were not hers wander over to it like moths. I knew then I had been doing it wrong for years.

As for my coffee, I have spilled it on khakis, on a scorebook and once directly into a softball glove. I now travel with a Stanley Cafe-To-Go mug that actually doesn't leak, and a 30 oz tumbler with a handle in light pink for the afternoon water I always swear I'll drink. A girl can dream. And a girl can also accessorize.

The cooler: our most complicated relationship

Every sports family has a cooler story. Mine involves sandwiches. Floating. In the sad, gray water of a cooler whose ice had given up somewhere around the second game.

Now we roll with an Igloo Trailmate 52-quart cooler that has wheels and a telescoping handle, so I'm no longer carrying it like a woman moving out of a bad apartment. We use Cooler Shock reusable ice packs instead of a bag of ice, and a cooler net or hanging tray keeps the sandwiches high, dry and emotionally stable.

Then there is the wagon. I resisted the wagon for years. I thought it was a little much. Then I watched a mom glide past me at a six-field complex with a cooler, two camp chairs, a pop-up tent and a toddler, all in a MacSports XL wagon, while I was carrying all of that plus my dignity in my two arms. Reader, I bought the wagon. If you've got little ones who still nap on the sidelines, the Radio Flyer EZ Fold wagon with a canopy is a sweet second option.

The overnight bag, or: who packed the shin guards?

An overnight tournament means a hotel, which means a bag, which means at 9:47 p.m. someone discovers they packed four pairs of socks and zero pairs of pants. I keep a puffer weekender with a shoe compartment for me, a foldable duffle for each kid, and a hanging toiletry bag that lives permanently packed in the trunk. One less thing to forget at 4:52 a.m.

The trunk itself gets a FORTEM trunk organizer so the cleats live on one side and the groceries live on the other, never to meet again.

So, is it love?

Here's what I've figured out from years of early call times and long drives. The road trip isn't really about the tournament. It's the inside jokes from the backseat. It's the drive-thru order everyone knows by heart. It's the quiet ride home after a tough loss, when someone falls asleep on their bag and you turn the music down without being asked.

The car will never be spotless. The banana will, eventually, be found. But with a little organization, the drive starts to feel less like survival and more like the best part of the weekend.

Want everything in one place? Shop my full Road Trip Ready list on Amazon.

xo,
Ladybird