The Carpool Chronicles

It's really easy to be an "I would NEVER" kind of mom when you don't actually have the kid yet.

 You know who I am talking about...those pregnant women, or better yet, women who don't even have children on the agenda yet, who find it so easy to judge those of us who are dragging our children down the dirty grocery store aisles looking for the lost Croc that slipped off somewhere "Ohver dhere, Momma!"

I know. I was once an "I would never" Mom. 

Of course, like most great mothers, this was before I had an actual child.  Back then, I would never allow my child to be the one toting a smelly blanket through the park, because it's just not worth the battle.  Rain boots are never appropriate summer picnicking attire.  Pacifier on the floor?? Might as well throw it in the trash, its a lost cause.  Ugh, store brand jarred baby food, NEVER!  Homemade only for my little angel.  This leads me to my favorite one...I would never be the mother with the car load of baby crap whose toddler is eating stale popcorn from the crafty little pouch in the door by his car seat (One of a thousand hiding places I have found, by the way...their little fingers can fit into places that no one but them will ever retrieve!!).

Oh yes, how easy it was back then to say never.  Where am I now?  The other day, just to kill time while driving, I actually had a full conversation with my child about the many treasures he was finding in said car seat and pockets.  This conversation was spurred by the old goldfish cracker that he handed to me mid car ride, deemed "yucky" by even a two year old.

This all leads me to a moment of sheer terror I had about a week ago.  I had dropped Boogie off at preschool for the morning and set out running errands like normal.  Picking this up here, dropping that off there...just the normal stuff.  I was not until around lunch time that I realised that it was the first day of carpool (cue horror film music to spark anticipation).  My car was in a state of crazed Chick-fil-a addict mixed with soccer mom hoarder.  Seriously, I could have set up a garage sale of the side of the road complete with tent, table, chairs and enough junk for sale to attract a good crowd of Saturday morning yard pillagers. 

Now, here is how carpool works.  A nice woman brings your child to your car, opens the door, pops them in their car seat, places their backpack on the seat next to them and off you go!  Sounds easy, right?  Except, how do you nicely say, "Sorry ma'am.  Please excuse the half eaten chicken nugget and don't worry, he can climb over the 5 pairs of toddler sized shoes, books, and 3 changes of clothes for the whole family that are scattered over the back seat. Oh, and his snack is in the bottom of his car seat, right where he left it yesterday."  To put it mildly, I was embarrassed. So, I did what any great mother would do and I pulled into a parking lot to clean out the car. 

It just so happened to be a K-Mart parking lot. (I didn't know there were still K-mart's around!)

Just in time for the monsoon. 

So, picture me, in the K-mart parking lot, in the pouring rain, climbing from the drivers seat into the back as I began stuffing things into an old Chic-fil-a bag.  Juice boxes, Cheese Its, stickers, half of a sticky hand out of a quarter machine.  You name it, I had it.  At one point I had to waive on a car waiting for my spot.  I slipped the stuffed bags of crap under the chairs in the trunk and carried on my way to the preschool (because it was still hammering it down outside, and I may have a messy car, but I would not settle for a messy car and bad hair!).  It was at this moment that I finally realised that I was that Mom.  The one with the clown car full of junk or goodies (depending on the target market), and pretty much whatever you may need.  And this made me smile...laugh really. 

I am glad that I am the woman walking around Target with a Dum-Dum stuck to the back of her hair.  But what I am more proud of, is the fact that I am now the woman that would swing into the Starbucks and pick up an extra coffee for the other woman.  You know, the one also walking around Target with the doctors office sticker stuck to her butt and the screaming toddler in tow...because I get it.  On any given day, I am her and I know on those days I could REALLY use an extra shot of espresso.