Girls in cars …..

After all my screaming , effing and blinding about brushing teeth, hair, getting school books, shoes, juice bottles, we finally fall into the car.

I manage to reverse out of the garage, and remember to open the electric garage first – it’s a small thing, but quite critical when one thinks about the things that could get your day off to a good start.  Its all in the timing.

I look at Connor’s hair and realise that the guy has not actually brushed his hair.  I REMINDED HIM THREE TIMES THIS MORNING – THREE FEKN TIMES!

I totally go off – – I am exhausted at chasing the kids in the morning to get stuff done, only to find that they get in the car and half of it has not been done.  Short of actually brushing their hair, brushing teeth, wiping their arses, and dressing them myself – really surely they must do something for themselves?

I pulled the car to the side of the road in a rather exaggerated manner to show my frustration.

I proceeded to yell at them – much to the amusement of the man walking past at the time.  I threatened them with all sorts of stuff – including leaving them at home next time this happens.  I warned them that this was OFFICIALLY THE LAST TIME, and this was the LAST warning.

I knew that this would make Connor think that he was going to get a free day to watch DSTV and play computer games.

I cut that one off at the pass.  I said that if I left them at home, I would be calling their dad, who would have to leave work, drive home to come and fetch them and HE could take them to school.

I warned the kids that if they thought me screaming was bad, then they had no idea what their father will do. (I like to use Kennith as the threat I can bring in when all else fails.)

I did exaggerate a bit and used very colourful language that probably was not appropriate for a 8 and a 5 year old.

I ended it with a very mean look around the car to ensure that the words were being understood – I also screamed DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME – in a rather shrill tone.  I put my indicator on, and pulled back into the traffic and tried to take three deep breaths.

Georgia always asks who I am dropping off first – I always drop Connor off first – but she asks the same question every day without fail – her little OCD thing.

Because she had asked and I had been such a mean mom, I thought I would make a change and instead of turning right to Connor’s school I turned left to Georgia’s school, so she would be dropped off first.

You know what they say about hell, good intentions and paving?

Georgia went off her head.  It was like I had just murdered Barbie and Ken in some gruesome family double murder.  She was screaming and really crying with tears streaming out of her big hazel eyes – streaming!

Some how I managed to keep the car on the road, and not veer into on-coming traffic.  Through the piercing screams of a five year old girl, I heard that she wanted me to drop Connor off first as she liked to talk to me in the car alone.

I thought about it and realized that when Connor is in the car, she does not say anything.  As soon as I leave Connor at school, then she starts to chatter.  I did not realise it was something she thought about or enjoyed, I just took it as part of the way it is.

On hearing Georgia’s protests, I decided – and partly because the screaming was quite convincing – to do a u-turn and go and drop Connor off.

Connor who does not really need an opportunity to speak, as he totally dominates the conversation no matter who is in the room, looks at her rather quizzically and says: ‘What are you going to talk to mommy about?”

Georgia, without hesitation goes:”Wild animals…”

And then proceeds to look out of the window staring at the trees.

I drop Connor off, and we say our good byes.

I pull out of the school parking lot on the way to Georgia’s school and she says: “You know mommy, I really like you!”

It was a very sweet drive, and she did not speak about wild animals once.  Maybe I need to start paying more attention to the alone time I spend with my little girl, and just make more opportunities to do it.  I like that she likes me ….