‘Leaving home’ with the kids in tow, is to be feared.
For it is no longer the simple, ‘grab your keys and jump in the car,’ kinda thrill. It is not the, ‘will I stop and grab a coffee on the way?’ kinda option. Gone are the days of the, ‘let’s just hit the open road and see where the drive takes us,’ kinda spin.
Now, it is conducted with military precision.
Or rather it should be conducted like this, but I rarely have my crap together to find my keys. Might I add, this is not necessarily because I am a flake; rather the keys could possibly be hiding in someone’s ‘special’ box as a make believe key for a Princess Castle, or even a Narnia inspired key to another world.
Let’s pretend it is a typical school day at our house.
My joy at seeing the tiny faces of my precious little cherubs is often short lived when I hear the thump of a bad wake day pounding up the hallway. It might be ‘no speaks’ because the Diva is still tired after her world record attempt at staying awake the night before. It might be a WWF dose of wrestling between the two on arrival in the kitchen, after one has ‘apparently’ woken the other. Possibly it could be a streak through; the busting for the toilet run that then leads directly to some form of screen, without so much as a grunted “good morning”. It might even be a koala cling day; you know the really lovely one where they just want cuddles and you feel like the most amazing and loved mother ever…until they just won’t quite let go, and you are left sitting in a huddle of arms and legs, surveying the train wreck of ‘little’ jobs you just needed to get done before you got them in the car?
Of course, then there’s the debacle that we like to call breakfast.
No bread left. Well, actually there is a crust, but that could not possibly be acceptable under any wild circumstances and he wanted the yellow plate, anyway! The demand request is for vegemite, but once it goes on, the wail for plain butter can be heard by all the neighbours…and we all know once the Mighty Vege is spread, it cannot be unspread, and I am left to chow down breakfast #2 and moan about the extra kilos that keep appearing. Yoghurt, but not THAT yoghurt! And do NOT cut up the toast belonging to the big boy, because we all know that 6 years old is nearly a man and MEN don’t slice their toast! I once had visions of fresh fruit salad and cereal and home blitzed orange juice, but of course, the reality is that time is of the essence and I am left PLEADING with the tiny enforcers to simply get something into their little tummies! Dishes are spewing across the bench and I quickly slam them into the sink, because we all know that out of sight IS most definitiely out of mind.
Morning screen battles.
The challenge is on. A battle that I am losing. I want to be one of those ‘no screens in the mornings’ mum’s; I do. But they can’t sit and read books as such yet, and the textas and playdough and lego and crap that is strewn throughout every floor of every room as the alternative, does not help to get us out the door. If you are winning this one, kudos to you, sista!
GET YOUR CLOTHES ON!!!!
Of course, my use of CAPS LOCK suggests that this might be screamed at the top of my lungs every day, and you would be absolutely correct for thinking that. Imagine a universe where the kids have already got themselves dressed before I ‘gently’ suggested it! There is that question as to whether I even trust them to take this chore on that they are actually capable of (‘ish), but all of a sudden I am squawking at the clock and rebuttoning shirts and the ‘run around blind with the jocks on the head joke’ is sooooo not funny anymore. And we all know the ‘where are my shoes?’ frustration, which is aptly weighted by the, “But I’m sure I left my school hat there yesterday,” whine.
Geeze….clothes for me ? Shower? Slap it on. It looked fine yesterday, it will do the trick today.
Back to the keys trick.
“WHO HAS MY KEYS?” is screamed at the top of my lungs as the, tick, tick, tick off the clock steps it up a notch or seven. The kind fellow, two suburbs away, can be heard shouting, “Look in the microwave,” and sure enough, we have a winner.
OUT!
OUT!
OUT!
“Why slam the front door on your sister????”
“CAR IS OPEN!”
Oh for the day that they can both get in without any assistance, and we are OUT the driveway!
LUNCHBOXES?
TOILET?
TEETH?
WHY ARE YOU WEARING THAT PIRATE EYE PATCH?
“Because I am a pirate,” says he.
Great answer.
Now for a park at school drop off.
Have mercy.
