[Real Life Chaos]
I’m not usually one to be dramatic (ahem) but I’m sat in my kitchen after the School Run feeling like I’ve undertaken some sort of Bear Grylls challenge. I’m new to this whole school run malarkey, and to be honest most mornings regardless of how organised I am the night before and how early I set my alarm, I’m darting around the house shouting orders and swearing under my breath.
This morning though tested my Mum skills to the max. I think it was mainly down to the apparent monsoon we seem to be having. As much as I try to kid myself, I’m absolutely not an outdoorsy type of gal, so as I size up the weather outside and decide to change from my gym trainers into my wellies, I take a deep breath ready to face the elements.
This morning Ruby-Rose has actually been surprisingly co-operative and managed to get herself dressed with no intervention, and is downstairs waiting for her breakfast whilst I finish wrestling the chubby octopus into some sort of warm ensemble.
Breakfast – fairly straightforward. The toddler won’t eat and decides to paint his face with marmite toast instead, but Ruby is chomping through hers.
All begins to come unstuck when we are leaving the house and I have 1 minute to spare before I absolutely need to be pulling off the drive. It’s piss!ng down.
Ruby is having a minor melt down as she can’t manage to wear her new and highly coveted pink fluffy earmuffs under her hood, Frankie is pointing the remote control at the TV and flicking through the channels shouting ‘Blaaazeee. BLAZZZEE!” I’m sporting a fetching gym gear and Hunter wellies combo and as I’m loading the car rain is pelting down into my wellies.
I grab Frankie and attempt to karate chop him into his brand new car seat, which I suddenly realise I can’t alter the straps on. I’m wriggling and clicking and pushing all the buttons in the pouring rain and the harness is locked. Frankie is pulling chunks of hair out of my ponytail and I look up to tell him to stop and bleerrgghhhh . . . . projectile vom all over me, him and the new car seat. I remove him from the seat, bundle him back into the house and reassure Ruby that her ear muffs will dry if they get a bit wet despite her major concern.
Back out in the rain, to the car . . . seat belt harness still locked. Ring husband. No answer. It is now 4 minutes before the bell is due to ring and my journey to school is about 7 minutes in traffic.
In a panic I try to slide Ruby (more slender than the chubby toddler) into the new car seat but try as I might I cannot get the straps to do up and she starts screaming “It hurts Mummy!!”.
Whilst swearing very inappropriately in pure frustration, the Gods pity me and finally the harness unlocks. I retrieve the toddler who is now covered in vomit again, wipe his face with the back of my sleeve and click him into the car seat. I get Ruby into her car seat and set off.
Grrr . . . The Bin Men have been and they have blocked the end of my drive with the bins. Out into the wet again – move the bins. Back in the car. I’m now blocked by the Bin Collection Lorry. A few further delays via two Lollipop Ladies and we reach school. Everyone has obviously driven today as it’s pouring down, so I have to park about a mile away from school.
The Silver Cross stroller that I recently purchased to try to reclaim a bit of boot space takes about 7 ‘shakes’ to erect. I sprint around the car to grab Frankie to get him into the pushchair and he’s been sick. Again. He’s climbing up my body like a tree frog and I end up almost wearing him as a scarf. I peel him off me and get him into the pushchair.
“I need a wee Mummy! I need a weeee!!” is coming from the other side of the car. “Hang on Ruby we’ll be there soon”.
I attempt to get the rain cover on the pushchair. It’s like trying to squeeze a condom onto a rickety apple cart. I abandon that idea and extend the pushchair hood (the main selling point) to encase Frankie.
We run down the road to school – Ruby trailing behind, snuggling her prize earmuffs to protect them from the rain. The fur on my down filled ‘Mum Coat’ has flopped and is flapping in my face like a teenagers greasy fringe and the ‘water resistance’ of the coat is not resisting and is more acting like a magnet for water. We dash across the road, high five Stu the Lollypop Man and weave past all of the other parents who’ve already dropped their kids off on time. Frankie keeps pushing his pushchair hood up and re-emerging shouting “NOOOO!!”
I manage to get to the doors just before they are closing and Ruby trots in. We did it!!!
I jog back to the car in my soaked lead weight coat, get soggy Frankie back into the car and instead of heading to my Body Pump class that I should be arriving at right about now, we go back home, to the warm for a cup of tea and a change of clothes.
I feel like something as trivial as delivering your child to school, on time should be straight forward, but I seem to struggle with this EVERY morning. How do you get organised and prepared for the school run? How do you stay calm and keep your sh!t together whilst dealing with lost shoes and spilt Weetabix?
We’re two Mums who are getting through motherhood one day at a time whilst enjoying Yoga and other ‘me time’ activities. We don’t profess to be experts in Yoga, Pilates, exercise, meditation, the human anatomy or medicine and we’re certainly not experts in parenting. We are simply sharing our experience and opinions and occasionally those of people who’s advice we value, and we’ll always reference them. If you’re unsure of starting any new exercise or practice, please consult your GP. And if you’re unsure of purchasing any products we suggest, please consult your bank balance!