By Pam Tauscher
Special To Channel 3000

I look at preparing for vacation a little like preparing for battle. While many people love to trek cross country to see the sights, my family packs up the minivan and drives south to exotic southern Kansas, birthplace to Dorothy and Toto, the start of the Cherokee Strip Land Rush, the place where the wind never stops blowing. And home to "Nana" and "Grampa." We live more than 700 miles from my family, so most of our "vacation getaways" are trips to Kansas.

While not exotic, time at home is a true retreat for our family when we recharge our batteries, reconnect after several months of separation and relax. But we pay the price to get there.

That's why preparing to spend 12 hours of quality family time in the car together is not something I look forward to. It is usually around Platteville that we hear our first, "How much longer till we get there?" Calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean.

We've driven early in the morning and late at night. No matter how you slice it, the "getting there" part of the trip is like torture. My philosophy on surviving is to indulge the whole family. So, I pretend it's like a spa day and try to pamper us all as much as one can be pampered while strapped into a seat next to a brother you are going to argue with 8 of the 12 hours on the road. Calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean.

In the days before we leave, I usually stock up on all sorts of things the boys don't usually get: bags of Cheetos, Bugle's, Oreos, cheese popcorn and every sort of juice under the sun. We rent movies and allow them be watched back to back to back. And then there's the surprise bag, filled with little toys and games to pass the time. But of course, now they know the bag is up there in the front seat holding the treasure and like little pirates, they want all of it by Platteville. Calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean.

Then there's the fast food stop and "picnic" in the car to keep the wheels rolling. Usually one and sometimes both milks spill in the next half hour … and I find my self quoting my young niece who once told me, "A little boy's feelings are more important than spilled milk." Calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean … calm blue ocean.

Usually, it's just after we've seen Kansas City in our rear view mirror that things really start to go down hill. The kids are done with play dough, the pipe cleaners are made into every shape imaginable, the movies are boring and coloring is giving us all a headache. That's usually when simple words like, "Honey how fast are you going," or "We just stopped half an hour ago" make the rest of the ride, well, bumpy.

In fact, it was memories of our last drive home, in an early snow storm that prompted us to make a radical change in the battle strategy for this spring. We decided to bypass Platteville altogether. My parents are picking us up at the airport.