The problems of big boned people ….

I fetch kids from school on Friday, get everyone in the car.

I must confess I am starting to view “fetching kids from school” as an hour or so of hell.  I am quite willing to outsource it right now.

I would actually seriously think about boarding school – for me, or them, so that I do not have to do the hour of child-pick-up-and-drop-off-hell every day.

Before you start tutting and clicking your tongue in judgement, please bear in mind that I am in about my 10th year of this driving back and forwards shit, and at a certain time, the shine it does go.

Believe me, it goes.

The problem right now, is that the moment my brood are in the car, the arguing starts.  The insane conversations.  All of them trying to talk to me at once.  All of them wanting something different from me whilst I am attempting to drive.

I can take shoes off kids – I am driving, kids are in the backseat, I can glance through school notes, I can adjust the sound on my radio, and I can hold two separate conversations, one normally about fish, the other about smurfs, and all of this whilst I try to negotiate traffic at two really busy intersections.

I can do all of the above, and peel and eat a banana, and it is not illegal, but I cannot talk on my cell phone as that is deemed too distracting and dangerous.

I don’t disagree with the “no cell phone” law, but the government should intervene and get fathers to drive kids home from school at least two days a week, so they can understand and appreciate what it is like, and then they can understand why moms  me drink copious amounts of wine, and sit rocking themselves in the corner.

10 years of this mania, twice a day, in a sealed car, with the high-pitched chatter of kid’s voices = no wonder I am on medication and have developed a few coping mechanisms.

But moving along.  So Friday we are in the car ….

Connor: “I don’t want to be rude, but when you got into the car, it went down a bit….”

Me: “…?”

Connor: “I was putting my bag in the boot, and when you got in to the car, I felt it go lower…. you know when you got in to it …. I don’t mean to be rude …..”

Me – glaring at him: “Great, thanks for telling me that, you are rude actually… next time think it, and don’t say it.  Good grief Connor – do you mind leaning forward so I can smack you on the back of the head?  Good grief……”

<<while I feel my soul die slightly inside and I start to rethink who is my favourite child>>

Georgia:”It IS RUDE Connor!!”

Connor: ‘GEORGIA!! …”

Georgia:”You are being rude, only adults can say that people are fat….”

Me: “Guys, guys, GUYS …GUYS please do not start fighting …. please, can we just get home without a fight….”

Me: “Connor, what the hell….”

Georgia: “It is rude to say someone is fat, you can’t say fat ….. Daddy is fat, but that is a bad word, so I tell Daddy that he is round ….”

Connor: “Georgia, that IS RUDE, you can’t say that Daddy is round …… that is rude.  Daddy is big-boned!”

Georgia: “NO HE ISN’T …. he is too round and I cannot feel his bones.  I am boney and you can feel me through my skin, I can’t feel Daddy through his skin…he is not big-boned …. he is round like a circle shape …”

<<me, sort of glad that the focus has moved away from my fat arse and how I make the car go lower when I sit in it….>>

Connor: “You are being rude Georgia …”

Georgia: “Mommy you know what I tell Daddy when I am being rude?”

Me: “No Georgia, what do you say?”

Georgia: “When someone is rude to you, the hurt is not important, what is important is the love ….”

Me: “Yes, Georgia, I think that will make him feel a lot better …… can we carry on now and go to McDonalds for dinner…?”

Leave a comment


  1. Very funny. So I take it Isabelle is the favourite child all round?

  2. Bwa,ha,ha… But truly, the afternoon madness drives me totally crazy at times. The noise levels!

  3. This big-boned post made me chuckle into my coffee mug. Your kids are a delight!

  4. Joshua is 2, doesn’t know that he’s being rude when he goes Uh oh MummY! When I get in the car. A 2yr old???

    • reluctantmom

       /  January 30, 2012

      I really like that 1950’s concept of “children should be seen and not heard …..” miss those days!!!!

  5. My kids also do this – when they say “Mom I dont mean to be rude but..” – I switch off.

    • reluctantmom

       /  January 30, 2012

      Excellent …. hate reading a post, when I have a similiar one running in my head … but did enjoy it, thank you.

      • Alexandra

         /  January 30, 2012

        Sorry about that. But it struck a chord with me, as do many of your posts.

        • reluctantmom

           /  January 30, 2012

          No, thank you, it is such a cool post … but now all my thoughts feel like plagiarism ….. damn huggingtonpost!!!!

  6. Charne

     /  January 30, 2012

    Love how Connor starts that with: “I don’t want to be rude”…….

    My mom and Emily comes to say goodbye to me in the garage each morning as I drive off to work and 2 out of 5 mornings per week, she (my mom, not Emily!!) tells me how the car drops when I get into it. And she doesn’t even say: “I don’t want to be rude” first!!

    • reluctantmom

       /  January 30, 2012

      I do think there are some things you really do not need to be told …… I know I have a bit of spread, just do not need to be reminded of it ….. constantly …..

  7. carmin

     /  January 30, 2012

    I love this, I am an au pair to 3boys under the age of 12 two of them are string beans and the middle one, well isn’t, has also asked (he has just turned 9) to be called plumpy. This topic is a constant one for discussion, always entertaining and always recurs on our afternoon drive home. Its nice to see you be honest about the things we are all thinking anyway. I made ‘car rules’ last year, one of them is that each boy gets to tell 1story about his day and the other is a time limit ( the story may not be longer than 10min). That means on our 40min drive home I have 5min to mentally prepare/ calm down and zone out. Twice!!!! Yay me!!! Haha. Hope you find a solution to the madness, have a wonderful day.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: