I remember it very clearly—all four of us kids bleakly eyeing the piles of suitcases, bags, even filled-to-the-brim laundry baskets, all waiting to be carried into the camper so we could start our vacation.

Our parents are both frugal and practical. While “camping” (I use the term loosely, as we had electricity and a tiny bathroom at our disposal), we cooked nearly every meal in the kitchenette and packed for all occasions. We used to tease our father mercilessly for always packing not one, but two toolboxes into the van. Toolboxes! Two of them! Why?

But now, it’s my turn to assume the role of vacationing parent. Trying not to trip over our cats, I surveyed our own load of luggage in a jumble on our kitchen floor. It seemed a little insane. One diaper bag. A suitcase. A backpack. A garment bag full of our fanciest clothes. An enormous cooler for the trunk of the car. Another insulated cooler bag for the front seat. A bag specifically for imperishable groceries, and another for cutlery and dish soap. A tote bag filled with Tommy’s favorite books, toys, and blankets. My laptop.

We were staying in a hotel. For one night.

My parents used to have elaborate checklists on actual clipboards that they’d run through with military precision. I looked down at the paper in my hand—my own list, not only typed up and printed out, but also inclusive of a separate list (follow me?) of each bag we had to lug into the car. Yes. A list of not the contents in the bags we had packed, but the bags themselves.

I must have inherited some freakish preparedness gene. To be fair, part of my packing craziness was out of necessity, as we were traveling across the state with a toddler on roads not known for vegan-friendly restaurants.

The other part was to circumvent a panic attack at the thought of traveling for over four hours with our darling child, staying in a strange place, and then driving back home the next day—somehow fitting in a family wedding during this time. When I get nervous, I research and plan and make lists. (You should have seen me when I was pregnant, and prone to randomly spouting off World Health Organization statistics for cesarean rates.)

I suppose that traveling with children is all old-hat after you’ve done it once, but for any new parents facing this task with trepidation, here’s what worked for us.

We packed a surprise for Tommy that would occupy him in a pinch with its novelty. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy; for us, it was a book he hadn’t seen before (“Go Dog. Go!” by P.D. Eastman, if you’re curious). As far as I’m concerned, that book is made of magical fairy dust and did its duty more than once. (Side note: my favorite part is the Dog Party in the Tree, closely followed by the fact that the two dogs who are always arguing over a hat—nice subplot, eh?—actually leave the Dog Party in the same car. Romance!)

Regardless of your dietary habits, pack food. A baggie of banana muffins kept Tommy happy during the wedding ceremony, and our usual stand-bys—cooked carrots and zucchini, crackers, and apple slices—worked wonders in the car.

Embrace technology. Well, sort of. I still get a little weirded out by the fact that cars can come with their own TVs now. But I will admit before you now—twice while in the car, I pulled out the laptop and stuck a DVD in it. It was only for 15 minutes each time (Tommy loses interest after that), but 15 minutes of peace are well worth the effort. Make sure to bring something that appeals to you, too. For us, that meant Disney’s animated “Robin Hood” (we skip through the depressing parts, which basically means we end up with 15 minutes of watchable footage, which is just Tommy’s speed anyway) and “Sesame Street—Old School, Vol. 1 (1969-1974)” (Fun fact! Oscar the Grouch used to be orange! And Big Bird used to be a gigantic dope!).

Will Tommy someday remember our painstaking preparation for vacation? Or will he never realize our efforts until he’s an adult himself, looking at a kitchen floor piled high with bags of his own?

When we got back home, one of the first things I did was call my mom and thank her.