I seldom have things under control.
If you spot someone struggling to carry their screaming toddler away from the bubblers after school pick up, it is probably me. If you hear a harried voice echoing from a few streets away “Quickly get into the car – we’re going to be late!”…. again, I think that might be me. And if you just drove past your local Woolworths and noticed a mother leaning over the boot of her car frantically wrapping just-bought boxes of Cadbury Favourites to give the day care teachers five minutes before her kids show up for their last day, well… let’s just say I wasn’t far away.
I like to think I am providing a community service.
Mums like to feel they are doing a good job, and we all have our moments of self-doubt. But I have a 3 Step Solution (which I offer free of charge each morning at school drop off) guaranteed to make any parent feel good about themselves:
- Witness me engage in a wrestling match with my uncannily strong 1 year old son to get him into a stroller. It is an evenly matched contest, and can sometimes take up to five minutes.
- Watch my 3 year old daughter pinch my finally subdued son (hard) in the face. Then watch me attempt to explain (again) that we must not hurt each other, only to have my daughter laugh at me.
- See me open the boot of our car. If I’m lucky, the ever expanding pile of stuff will not fall out on top of me. Regardless, if you watch closely, you will be sure to notice my expression of disappointment and disbelief. Somehow I really did think that – this time – the mess would get cleaned up without me doing it.
Last week I thought I had finally achieved success.
I was woken up at 5am (again) by our 3 year old daughter staring at me while I slept. (Something needs to be done about this. It is starting to freak me out, horror movie style.) Anyway, there I was at 5:30am baking Smartie biscuits for my 6 year old daughter’s school break-up party. I felt like Supermum as she carried them proudly into her classroom.
Then at 1:30pm that day, I got a phone call from a school Mum friend. Apparently quite a few parents also attended the break-up party, and then took their children home with them afterwards. My daughter was one of the last remaining girls, so would I like my friend to bring her home? Bugger! Smartie biscuit triumph very short-lived…
One day, I plan to get my shit together.
In the meantime, I can only hope this disorganised, dishevelled, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants style is uplifting for others. Want to feel together and efficient and organised? Look no further than the Rose family. You’ll find us in the house at the end of the street. The one with the leaves in the gutter, foot high grass, and toys strewn across the lawn.