Driving Me Crazy

 

I hate walking. Putting one foot in front of the other is a form of exercise and therefore is on my naughty list. I enjoy taking the Gremlins and Fudge on nature trails to jump in muddy puddles Peppa-Pig-style now and again but otherwise I am in love with my car and have a massive carbon footprint. I would drive from my living room to my bedroom if I could, I hate the process of getting from one place to another and when I need to be somewhere I want to be there NOW. I’m very impatient as I have to tick so much off my to-do list that journeys are a waste of my time. My ideal superpower would be to blink and be transported to exactly where I need to be, taking whoever I was clutching onto. It would be a much easier way of transporting the Gremlins from A to B.

 

As most parents will know, travelling even a short distance with small children usually has to be planned down to the finest detail. The first step is packing everything that you need to take with you and when they’re young that could include nappies, wipes, bum cream, bibs, drinks, snacks, dummies, favourite toys or blankets, pushchairs, change of clothing, sun creams and hats if it’s hot, rain coats and hats if it’s cold, toys to keep them entertained and if they’re staying out overnight you can add travel cots, pyjamas, hair brushes, toothbrushes and baby monitors to the list. Not to mention your own bag for the day including money, keys, mobile phone, electronic diary and to do lists etc. In our case, it takes half an hour to get it all together and put it in the car, we’re always 20 minutes late and there’s barely room to squeeze in the car seats and kids. It then takes a further 10 minutes just to get them in the car as Owen will need to be asked forty times to put on his shoes and when he eventually takes notice of the request he’ll move in slow motion and suddenly forget how Velcro works. While he’s staring into space and contemplating the universe, Ava will run and hide under the dining table so I have to move every chair and crawl on my knees to pull her out by the ankles. I’ll fasten her coat – she’ll unfasten it. I’ll put on her shoes – she’ll take them off. I’ll put my shoes on – she’ll have a poo. Then I’ll spend 5 minutes undressing her to change her nappy and by this time Owen will have half a shoe on. When I get the wriggly rugrat to her car seat she’ll stiffen like a board making it impossible to fasten the straps and she’ll howl for manky blanky (this is the blanket she’s had since birth that probably harbours a million tiny creatures even though it’s washed on a weekly basis). Once she’s firmly secured and clutching onto manky blanky, Owen will have both shoes on and he’ll be examining the snails in the garden, ignoring my twenty commands to get in the car: “but look mam this snail is on a leaf!” I have to physically open his door for him like the chauffeur I am and escort him into the vehicle – by which point Ava’s arms will be free of her restraints and she’ll be opening and closing her electric window.

 

Then we’re off....

 

Ava will continuously release herself from her straps so that I have to pull over and stick her back in. The only way to stop her is to feed her and keep her hands busy. If I don’t, she’ll also pick the stuffing out of her car seat and throw it out of the window. I’ve recently learned how to lock these windows, and when her hands are busy with raisins or popcorn she’ll kick the back of my seat instead in a steady rhythm.

 

Owen insists on playing his One Direction CDs, he’ll turn the rear internal light on and off, slouch down and stick his mucky feet in the air, continuously tell me what speed I’m driving at and ask me questions that he knows I’ll say yes to because I’m trying to concentrate on driving:

 

Owen: Mam can I have some chocolate after school?

Me: Uh huh

Owen: Mam can I play in the garden later and make a tree house?

Me: Uh huh

Owen: Mam can I buy a chainsaw to cut down the tree then burn it in a bonfire with a high strength accelerant and smoke the ashes in a cigarette whilst swigging alcopops?

Me: Uh huh

 

If Dad is in the car, we’ll try to have a conversation or a “handover” between him finishing work and me going to work of who’s been fed, what they ate, who’s going where, when they need to be collected, what housework needs to be completed, who called and what they said – but the Gremlins do not allow conversations that don’t involve them, whilst in a moving vehicle, and that’s the time they’ll insist on your undivided attention and HAVE to tell you some really important urgent information:

 

Owen: Dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, dad, mam...

Me: Hang on a moment Owen

Owen: But mam it’s important! Mam, mam, mam, dad, DAD!

Dad: What is it Owen?

Owen: Errrrrrrmmmm....isn’t the sky very pink today!

 

When I try to ignore the attention grabbing and try to continue my handover with Dad, Ava will take off a shoe and launch it at my head. It’s a common misconception that headrests were designed to protect your neck in case of a car accident - they were actually designed to protect your head from children throwing missiles.

 

Driving can be an educational experience for children. My Gremlins have learned most of their bad language from car journeys with Mammy and Daddy. Due to always being late for every appointment, we’re usually in a hurry and feeling harassed and intolerant, so when other motorists forget to indicate, cut us up, drive too slow or drive right up our tail end, we can forget to censor our words and the occasional “shit”, “twat”, “bloody idiot” and “for fluffs sake!” can escape, which of course the Gremlins will repeat over and over in fits of hysterics. The daughter of my friend Wonderwomum discovered the word “wanker” whilst travelling in the family Volkswagen.

 

We have tried public transport in the past but quickly realised that bus journeys are the perfect environment for children to embarrass you and demonstrate to the world what a bad parent you are. Ava would smile sweetly at little old ladies, then take off her shoes and order them to kiss her feet. Owen would sing songs about S&M (thank you Rihanna), call me a motherlover (thank you Lonely Island) and say “hi sexy” to the already horrified elderly passengers. So I tried to entertain them with innocent childhood games such as I-spy:

 

Me: I spy with my little eye something beginning with “D”

Owen: Dick.

 

We no longer travel on public transport.

 

In order to visit Dad’s family, it’s necessary to do regular six-hour car journeys to and from Wales. This used to be a nightmare of feeding, changing, screaming and bored wriggling – and that was just Dad. Most journeys were planned at night in the hope that the Gremlins would sleep and we could listen to some inappropriate rap CDs instead of vanilla pop – fat chance. Until we discovered the wonder that is the portable DVD player! Every parent’s must-have item for long (or short) peaceful, stress-free excursions with young family. The children are entertained with the innocence of Pingu and Ice Age and the grown-ups get to converse with each other and escape prosecution for dangerous driving due to missiles flying around the vehicle. Getting from A to B has never been so calm, effortless and undemanding...

 

...until you’re driving down the motorway and someone pipes up: “I need a wee”.