My heart was beating faster than I knew possible, I had sweat dripping down my face and running down my cleavage. My fingers were intertwined in my hair and I was gasping for breath. No, I haven't turned my hand to writing cheesy Mills and Boon novels. This was me, at school, searching for my scamp of a toddler.
|The SUV Salsa|
When we get back to Mali's classroom to retrieve Hamish and apologise profusely to our teacher, I see a number of mummies, staring at me. Yes, I'm dishevelled, weepy and wet from sweat but I don't think that's the reason they're looking. I gasp to myself. Oooohhh, they're judging me. They think I'm a BAD MUMMY! I lower my head and drag my uncooperative toddler and my baby back to the car, feeling ashamed.
|Butter wouldn't melt in his mouth!|
Let's face it, the school run sucks. Sorry for my lack of eloquence, but I really can't think of any other way to describe it. What's the drama you ask? You just take them to school, peck them on the cheek and cheerily wave them on their way...don't you? They smile sweetly, tell you they love you and you tell them to 'have a wonderful day darling' before swinging your tennis raquet over your toned shoulder and dashing off for a quick cafe latte before your day kicks off. This is where we insert the comedic, wicked laughter. Bahahahaha, ha, ha ha. You foolish, FOOLISH woman.
You see, I do the school run with my two little boys and an easy task it is not. If I'm lucky to get a car park within 500 metres of the school, I do a little fist pump and possibly a little dance if nobody is looking. Then I have to unload. The kids, the school bags, violins, swimming kit and the science project (completely structurally incompetent because I've helped build the blasted thing). My toddler is um, difficult. If we make it to the front door, I'm seriously impressed and praising him to the hilt. "Great job buddy, good walking!" I'm pretty sure at this point, the other parents are questioning my mental stability. At some point, Master Fraser will inevitably decide that he's had enough. He'll sit squarely in the middle of the path, arms crossed, eyes narrowed and refuse to walk, "NO". Awesome. So I'll swing him onto my hip, push my pram with one hand and trudge on, daring other parents and students to walk into my path.
What's truly fascinating is the reaction of other parents when they spot the Mummy Monster, laden with kids, bags, waddling like a duck and doing her best to keep her cool, whilst blowing the hair out of her eyes. Some of them, avert their eyes, like I'm the Hunchback of Notre Dame and coolly step sideways. Others throw in a cliche line like, "Four kids? You're a brave woman", or my favourite, "you've got your hands full!" They're lucky because if I had a spare hand, I'd slap them. On a great day some God-given woman will scoop up my toddler and smile sweetly, "Let me give you a hand!" And I'll spend the next 5 minutes embarrassing the poor love with over-the-top gratefulness.
Yes, the school run is like the running the gauntlet sometimes, but I've decided if I start viewing it as some major physical challenge, not unlike the New York marathon, at the very least I deserve a steaming hot chocolate on the drive home.
<a href="http://www.bloglovin.com/blog/3548185/mummy-muddles?claim=4qbca9w4pgv">Follow my blog with Bloglovin</a>