Some days I go about ticking boxes and high fiving myself.
Other days start off like that and then a point comes where it feels like my shoes become too heavy, my skull opens up and a large, red, swirling light emerges. A noise begins to drown out the block. A low, deep siren.
Whooooomp. Whooooomp. Whooooomp.
I think of it as my mummy mess siren. When you have slowly unravelled and it now feels like a siren is drawing all eyes towards me and the chaos that is unfolding.
Usually, this happens at kindergarten drop off. Like today.
Today I had a list of things I had to get done. I put my hand up for this year’s parents committee (felt I should, rookie mistake) so in my efforts to get the latest fundraising projects underway I always have a little more to do than just sign in and ask Ari to put his lunchbox in the lunch basket 14 times.
With getting things done I have learnt to let Leni explore a little more. Thanksfully, she has stopped putting everything in her mouth, so kindy has become less of a minefield.
Today we signed in and put everything in their places. Ari ran off with his mates. Leni went to knock down things. I went to the store room to pull out a heap of raffle prizes I needed to take to my car.
It started off with a gamble. I took a risk. I didn’t tell the kids what I was doing.
I filled up a little shopping trolly made for a 4-year-old, told another mum I would be back in a minute (in case Leni decided it was time to chow down on something) and with both kids occupied pushed that prize-laden sucker jerkily out to my car 10 metres away. I rolled that thing three times getting through the double security gates but it served its purpose.
Coming back through the gates I notice that everyone has gone inside to start the day but possibly couldn’t hear a thing due to the two manically screaming children in the doorway.
I could feel my cheeks going red as I walked in pushing this tiny trolly. I hugged my two kids in my arms, letting them know I didn’t just disappear and to make up for my whimsical mothering skills I decide it might be nice if I sat with Ari on the mat like some of the other mums do each morning.
As it was such a rare occasion, Ari just sat staring at me lovingly with the back of his head facing the teacher. #awkward
Leni, on the other hand, had taken opportunity by the horns and was pulling out 100 little crystals and stones onto a light box (which did look pretty cool) without any of the big kids telling her to go away. It was exciting and she was getting loud. So loud that now the teacher was looking at the back of the heads of the majority of the class.
We had created enough of a disturbance and I thought it was time to abort mission. I swiftly jumped up and gave Ari a kiss goodbye. He latched onto my leg until I got another teacher to grab him. I whisked Leni into my arms and headed out the door.
I am amazed that all the windows were still intact as the piercing protests from Leni and flailing arms and legs drew everyone’s eyes.
This is when it happens, the point when that hatch opens and the flashing red light appears.
Whooooomp. Whooooomp. Whooooomp.
The mummy mess siren. The point where you can’t escape quick enough but you feel like you’re in slow motion and everyone’s eyes are upon you. You have gone past the part of being a mother doing all the things, to one who possibly should stick to just one thing at a time.
Do you have a mummy mess siren drawing a crowd of onlookers?