The madness that is us!

The School Run Mum

Chapter One

“Why can you never remember to bring your lunch?... Well, you’ll just have to have school dinners now... Elliot, have you got your poppy money?”
“Yes mum!” comes the ever so happy tones of my seven year old.
“Gabe?”
“Ah man, I’ve lost it!”
“ GABE! Right, run back to the car and get twenty pence, hurry... Chloe hold Imogen’s hand please... Sienna, carry your own bag!”
“ But my arms are too little, I need you to carry it,” says the angelic voice of my 5 year old, who by the way is trying to climb a tree for some reason.
“Argh.... Right, Gabe, got one?”
“Yep, I’m going to run ahead, otherwise I’ll be late, see ya!”
I stand there, being told to 'come on!' by my 2 year old.

My name’s Keely and all this happens within the space of about 3 minutes! I am your typical school run mum. I live in a 6 bed house, nice size garden, forever changing my furniture around and, when the mood takes me, I bake. My day begins in quite an abrupt manner. From the lazy, comfy state of dream world, I am rudely woken up by my alarm telling me its half past six in the morning. Before kids, I never knew this time of morning existed. At the moment, autumn has just descended on us; a fantastic time of year, but at half past six in the morning, that’s not the first thought that goes through my mind. The reason I am up so early is my twelve year old, Eden. You see, she has just started senior school. She amazes me at how intelligent she is, but we have to get up so early because she passed her exams to get into grammar school. When I found out, I was jumping everywhere. Reality, however, has now set in. Her school is a forty five minute bus ride so she has to catch the bus at ten past seven. Being the kind of mother that I am, I cannot just lay there in my bed while she gets herself ready, breakfasts and then leaves. While she is dressing, I get up and make her a hot chocolate and breakfast, and then we wander over to the bus stop together - which, may I say, is just over the road! Anyway, I will sit and wait with her until her bus comes, then wander back home.

I feel like I am dressing for an arctic expedition every morning, just to sit at the bus stop. Winter is definitely starting to rear its blustery little head! While I am sat at the wind tunnel of a bus stop, on one of those benches that you can only really rest a clutch bag on, my husband and other five children are tucked up in bed, and will be for another half hour or so! I say goodbye to Eden as she steps onto the bus, that apparently has no-one inside, because all the hot air inside has steamed up! One day I waited till the bus was gone and as I glanced up, one of the windows said help! 

When I come home, I turn on the television by the wall, as every night my husband turns it off, and with sky plus, you have to wait forever for it to sort itself out. My two year old is not the most patient of little people, so I prepare the house for her arrival at the bottom of the stairs.

Then, I go to the kitchen and get the lunches out of the fridge where they were put the night before. The motto I live by is ‘Fail to prepare, prepare to fail’ so every night I prepare the children’s lunches, put them in the fridge, then place all the bags by the front door, and get them to lay out their uniforms in their bedrooms. This all gives me extra time in the morning to read a chapter of the book I happened to have chosen for the week. I have to read; it’s my sanity! By half past seven, the kids are starting to trickle down the stairs, one by one. My 2 year old is first!
“I’m hereee,” comes the little munch-kin voice, from half way up the stairs. She’s clutching two big teddies and three dolls, as well as her beaker. She’s a true woman, carrying lots of things at once. She makes me proud!

My day really kicks into gear now. “ Mummy, brekwarst... mummy, brewarst!”
I hear this until I have pulled a bowl out of the dishwasher (my family still haven’t figured out that the dishwasher doesn’t unload itself!), picked her up and taken her to the cereal shelf. Yes, you read right: cereal shelf! My husband has to have at least 15 cereals to choose from. Well, who doesn’t? I am bringing up the next generation of cereal fanatics! Anyway, she takes about two minutes to choose a cereal, after I have picked up every single one and she says she wants the first one I picked up. I pick up a different one first, every morning; I swear she does it to add minutes to my day! Two year olds! So we wander back to the kitchen where I sit her at the table and turn around to do her breakfast. In the meantime, another order has just come in from the TV room, for some chocolate spread on toast..... no idea who placed the order, but like the good chef that I am (yes this is another job I have on my CV), I pop the toast into the toaster, grab the milk from the fridge on my way back to the bowl of cereal and, whilst pouring the milk, I am grabbing for a glass to put some fresh orange in for myself. Whilst turning around to put the milk back, another child has appeared in the kitchen, taken the orange and shouted back thanks! My reply, in an ever loving tone, is, “That’s OK!” This reply does not match the one in my head! It’s just occurred to me that it must look like that Morecombe and Wise Breakfast sketch in my kitchen every morning; I love those guys!

Then comes the rush. Every family must have that twenty minute rush that happens every morning. The rest of the household seem to smell the toast that has just cooked, which triggers that Mums-up-and-making-breakfast-just-for-me hormone. It’s like a scene from Thriller, walking zombielike down the stairs towards the kitchen as they enter the hub of my home. They go to the laundry room, pick a cereal, give it to me, then I tell them to back up the stairs and get dressed while I do their breakfast. Why it doesn’t enter their minds every morning to dress before they come down just doesn’t make sense to me. It's part of their hour a day exercises though, I guess! So I attach my extra six arms that my kids seem to think I have and finish the breakfast orders. They are all placed nicely on the table with spoons to the side and I even have a nice flower arrangement in the middle. I call them to let them know its ready, and then every minute for the next ten minutes I repeat the process!

With breakfast done, kids dressed, chapter of book read, heap of washing up in the sink, a load of washing spinning around in the washing machine, curtains pulled back, and beds made, I feeling pretty confident that today will be the day we leave on time. My time of departure every morning is 8:25am. This gives me a nice 5 minute drive to the school, time to get out of the car, walk down to school, have a chat with the mums, and generally not be rushed! I say my time is this every morning, but more often than not it is a good five minutes later. I’m sure I was a sheep dog in a previous life; I spend the next ten to fifteen minutes herding my little flock towards the front door. I battle with the television every morning. My kids seem to think that when I say we have ten minutes until we leave, only then it is a good time to start a movie, or browse the TV listings, Sky plussing every programme they are going to miss while they are at school! Obviously, most mornings, I just walk in and turn the TV off, but the other day, I just walked out and sat in the car. I left a note on the TV room door, saying I was in the car when they were ready. I thought they would come running, but they decided they were not ready at that moment!

“Have you got my gloves?”
“Chloe can you stop humming!”
“Mum, tell Gabe to stop doing that to me!”
I’ve literally just got in the car and the list of demands just keep coming, so I turn around, and with an air of ‘if you don’t be quiet now, I WILL loose it’ I turn to the kids and say, “I am not listening to anyone until the tears have stopped, the shouting has stopped, and you can all treat me with respect!!”
“Geez, don’t have a cow!” comes the giggly reply of my nine year old, Gabe. I have suddenly just grown horns and there is steam coming out of my ears. I tell him to get out of the car, and to think of something nice to say to me before he gets back in. This would be the best thing for him right now as I am so mad at him! Gabe's a whippet when he’s in trouble!

With his head is down and voice so quiet, he gets back in the car and says “You look nice today!”
Well, not what I was expecting, but I take the compliment graciously, thank him for the kind words, and put my seat belt on. The car starts first time. I still say a quiet thank you every morning when it starts. My car is a seven seater Renault Espace. It’s was a great car, but it has seen better times. It overheats, the petrol gauge decides when it’s going to work but does not write to let me know, the boot opens but does not stay open, so I have to hold it, while one handed I throw the buggy or shopping in, my back left tyre keeps going down. The other day, I couldn’t find twenty pence to go and inflate it at the petrol station, so I got a foot pump, and went outside and did it. I came back in to get a book, as it was taking longer than I had anticipated! Multi tasking, that’s what women are good at. One of the windows doesn’t go down properly, oh the list goes on. It’s started though, and I am grateful! I put the car in reverse; put my foot on the gas, and go to press down.

“My scarf!”  Chloe blurts out. I am actually in a state of shock; did she not see she was not wearing one, as all the commotion was going on? I turn the car off, give her the keys, and tell her to RUN! .....and I wait.... AGAIN!

When my car actually gets off the driveway, we have a pretty clear run to school. I look forward every morning to reaching Somerfields, because just past it is one of my favourite stores. It’s my friend’s boutique, Tickled Pink. Well, I am quite at home here. Tan and I, oh, that’s my friend by the way. Known each other for years, we see each other every day, gym twice a week together, feed and pick up each others kids, and live in Tickled Pink together. Well, you need a good girlfriend to get an honest opinion!! So, as I said, Tan and I, make frequent visits here, clothes, jewellery, bags..... HEAVEN!!  In the mornings, I stop at the traffic lights, and look in the window, to see if anything new is in. It starts my morning off in just the right way!

I turn right into the school road, and wave to every one on the way up. My boys say I look like the Queen.... as if! I park up, the kids all spill out of the car, Imogen is hilarious to watch. Her little legs dangling over the edge of the seat trying to find the ground. We should help, but it gives us all a laugh, on such a cold day. I decide that she’s given us enough laughs, and get her down. Zips are done up, bags on shoulders, gloves on and that is where you came into my life...the lunch box drama! 

Chapter 2

The life of a school run mum can go two ways. It can either run smoothly, or be as bumpy as heck!  You can be a Yummy Mummy or a Slouchy Grouchy! You can remember to look at your diary in the morning or forget you even have one! There are always two paths that are laid out before you. Each morning I get to the front door, I know and see the path I want to take, it’s sunny, fluffy bunnies hopping everywhere, a babbling brook, and flowered meadows as far as the eye can see. The path my foot actually falls on is littered with last nights take away, from someone who thought my drive was a bin! It’s dark, and rainy, and for some reason, the trees all have cross faces on them. (That’s a life bought up on Disney for you!!) I have it in my head that we are the Walton’s, but in reality, the only thing in common that we have with them is that our last name begins with a W, and the only thing shouted at night is not... “Goodnight John boy” it is “Mum, I’m thirsty” or “Mum, Imogens in my room again” 

So you see, in my head I walk out the model mother, what the world sees is probably Marge Simpson.

With the lunch box drama sorted out, and poppy money in pockets, we carry on walking to school. I find it funny how most mums have that way of saying Hello in that higher than their usual voice way, and the ‘o’ is normally held on for a slight moment longer. “Hellooo” When I say it, I actually sound Scottish! So as I am walking down, I must utter the School Run Mum greeting fifty times every morning. I say it so much, it starts to sound weird. I genuinely like to say hello to people though. As we are walking down the path to school, the kids drift off with their friends, and leave me with Imogen, and Sienna who has run off ahead, skipping and singing away. She loves it in Sese world. That is her little nickname, or Sees Myster!!  “Sese, wait…. Sese, wait” ring out the dulcet tones if Imogen. She’s wanting to catch her up.

All mums will know what I mean when I say, you know that split second when your child leaves your firm grasp that something WILL happen. I have that power too. She’s wriggled her five little scrummy fingers out of my secure controlling grip, and legged it. The problem is, she has her Uggs on, and she’s not exactly an Olympic athlete in them. My mind is sprinting forward two minutes, and as I am calling her to be careful, she has hit the deck. Luckily this time not her face just knees and hands. The urge to say I told you so is so strong. Will a two year old really understand and learn from this mistake?  She does it most mornings, so my guess is NO!

So now I am carrying down a crying baby, and trying to get Sienna to carry her bag. Apparently, her arms are still too short. Off she skips, and Imogen has seen her go off, the crying immediately stops and she is trying to get down. I am in two minds, but give in and let her go. She’s a lot more cautious now. We make it to the playground safely, and I wander to the class. This is when I get verbal diorreah. You see most school run mums can, if they are not careful, be plagued with an illness called ‘Adult conversation deprivation’. I am a sufferer from time to time. But luckily there is a treatment for it; you have to take it twice a day, one at nine in the morning, and again at three in the afternoon. It is called The School Run.

It’s easy to take, and enjoyable to. The instructions on the side read:

Enter playground early enough to start up conversation with an adult, before school doors open. Proceed to talk until doors open. Usher child through the adults, say goodbye, and carry on conversation. It also says for bad cases, an extra half hour at the school gates chatting will improve symptoms. I make sure I take the treatment every day to keep the symptoms at bay. I actually love walking into the playground, into a sea of faces, some I have known for years, and some I have only just gotton to know. I love the school mum buzz. As you walk down the path, you start to hear all the different conversations that are going on, the odd mum who is yelling for their kids to come back, the children running around playing with each other, the mums saying to be careful not to ruin their clean uniforms, the greetings you get when you enter the playground, the mums you see carry in things that you’ve forgotten to bring. The buzz of the school playground can actually give you a natural high. I have been doing the school run for seven years now, and cannot see the end in sight, but I’m ok with that.

 This morning, I am sorting out with Tan, what time Spin class is at the gym. I hate spin class, but I am the kind of person, if I am not that good at something, I have to try and get better at it. So spin class it is. I cannot feel my bum after, but that may be a good thing, not feeling it wobble! 11:30am is when the class is, so we decide to meet at 11am to get our tickets, and I have to put Imogen in the crèche too. As I say goodbye to Tan, I am walking hand in hand with Imogen, not letting go this time, and thinking ‘Someone call me, and say they need me desperately!’ Of course I am never that lucky. So spin class it still is!

I put Imogen in her car seat, and climb in the front. I sit there for a minute replying to some text, and then start the car, oh must tell you this. If you are a school mum, you will know how important your phone, car keys, and house keys are to you!  So the other day I lost mine. Worst four days of my life. Thank goodness for Facebook is all I can say. I did find them again. Imogen had put them in a compartment in my bag I didn’t even know I had. I repeat… Two year olds!

As I pull away, my mind now starts to make lists as to what will be happening today. Confusion sets in, and I don’t even know if I am to be indicating left or right at this junction! I am thinking I’ll just get home and then grab a pen and paper. Easier and a whole lot safer. I just turn up the music up and sing along. I’ve not go the best voice in the world, but I can carry a tune. I am really going for it now, I love this song. Who cares if I look like a plebe, it’s a great song. Then I slow done to let someone turn and someone pulls up next to me. That’s the cue for self conscious to step in. I am slowly turning away, not dancing so extravagantly, and start to sing like a choir boy. Thankfully the person is turning off and I can resume my pop star status. Imogen just sits there sucking her two fingers looking at me. Sometimes I think it is best she can’t tell me what she is truly thinking.

I open the front door to no post. Postal strikes again!!  I come in and check the answer machine, nothing!  Now, for a mum of six kids twelve and under, to walk into a quiet house, where there’s no demanding letters, no messages saying can you call me back, and no TV, is absolute heaven. I take full advantage of it for 2 minutes, because this is when Imogen wanders in behind me, after removing her coat and hat, and asks me to put the TV on, and get her a ‘Hot Chococ’ She jumps up on the couch, and then down again to line up all her teddies and dollies on the chair with her. I wander past the study, and pop the computer on, so it can set itself up while I put my chef’s hat back on. Who ever invented the microwave should be given a bit more praise and recognition. Mine plays a huge part in my daily life. I make Imogens Hot Chocolate, and give it too her while she sits and watches Dora the Explorer. Then I casually, so even to myself I don’t look too eager, walk to the computer and click on Facebook. My Husband Grant thinks I’m addicted, I think that’s a strong word. I like to see if my friends are ok. I do have to limit my time on there; otherwise I do get dragged in. There are times when I feel the need to comment on everyone’s status, and photo albums. These are the days when the kids come home, and asked me where I went today, because the house is pretty much as we left it in the morning. Facebook has revolutionised people’s ability to keep in contact, but has also been the biggest source of time wasting for me!

Right, I have two hours to get stuff done, before I whizz up to the gym. I decide after I have checked on my friends, to make a list of the important things I need to do today. Why does everything seem so important? I pour myself some water, and think ‘toilet roll ran out yesterday’. As you get to know me, you’ll come to find out, the way my brain works, why it works that way, and hopefully follow my way of thinking. My family and friends still struggle I think!  Oh well. I am sat there, staring out of my window in the kitchen, watching a squirrel dig up my garden just to bury it’s little stash. For some reason, Persil comes into my head. Don’t ask! So now, I am making a shopping list. Not what I set out to do, but would probably be on my list of important things. Once my list is composed, I put it in my bag; I have a habit of putting things down, and then never seeing them again. Oooo, a text, it’s Stacey, my sister. She is twenty five, married and pregnant with her first baby. She lives about ten minutes away, and is trying to sort out Christmas. She is so organized this year; she has put me to shame. I have started, but that’s only a handful of presents. I love to be organised for Christmas, I feel by the end of November I should be completely done, so that I can enjoy the festivities for the whole of December. I love a party, and December is filled with them, so trying to cram in Christmas shopping as well does not appeal to. We have a quick text conversation, and then I am back to my lists. Have you ever watched a squirrel bury things? It is just like the cartoons. I wish it would hurry up, I can’t help but watch, and I have things to do. Then the telephone goes. “Good morning maam, we’re conducting a survey…” “Sorry, I am just putting my coat on to go out….” “Do you have 5 mins to spare?” “No, sorry, bye” click, I put the receiver down. I’m trying to make a list!!

While I am in the kitchen, Imogen has pulled all the cushions off the sofa and called me to see her masterpiece. “I building” comes the proud voice from behind them. She jumps up with a huge smile, and tells me I have to come and sit with her. I get down on my knees, and play in the building she has just erected out of cushions. Pretty good for a two year old actually. Ok, a quick teaching opportunity. I ask her to count the cushions for me, and she does to my astonishment! All twelve of them, not missing out a single number! Feeling proud of myself, and her, I ease up so she doesn’t really notice I am leaving, and make my way to the kitchen again, when I hear the post drop to the floor. Hooray, at last. I pick them up, and put them down just as quick, noticing they are all bills, and will be a pretty boring read. Oooo…. Another text, “Are you spinning it today?” That’s Lauren, my gym fanatical friend. I have never known someone to go as much as she does, she is always there, any time of the day, doing whatever class is on. But she looks great, so maybe I should take a leaf out of her book. I text back “yep, trying to psych myself up!” Click send and glance at the clock. Ten forty five. Man, where did that time go? I get Imogen ready for the second time this morning, and put my trainers on. Gym mornings are great. Whack gym gear on for the school run, tie your hair up and you’re ready to go. You can tell who is going to the gym, when you get to school. I always think everyone else looks great in their gym gear, and I look like a sack of potatoes.

Thinking about that, maybe I shouldn’t have friends that are your typical yummy mummies, and then I may look half decent! That’s my problem, you see I have a great group of school mum friends, and they all are Yummy Mummies. I am a size 10, but I always wonder why everyone always looks better! But then probably every woman on the planet thinks that. I hope so or I have issues! Haha.

I grab Imogen, my bag, my bottle of water and my keys, and head for the car. It’s actually not that cold today, or raining. England’s nice with this kind of weather. Once Imogen is strapped in, I get back in the car again, and fire it up! I could really do with a Subway right now! That is a thought that is always on my mind. A Subway club sandwich, oh my goodness, I couldn’t think of anything more delicious right now. But no, I will be strong. Too many carbs are meant to contribute to weight gain! But I am sure, that doesn’t mean Subways! I would take a sub club over a chocolate bar any day. Even if it was Galaxy!

I head up to the gym, when I hit traffic! Thank you!!  I sit in it for five minutes, text Tan, and tell her I am stuck in traffic, as I press send, I find out, it  was a lorry parked up and people were waiting to go round it. So now it’s my turn, round I go, and I’m on my way again. I have to go down a road, with mansions lined up on both sides. I love this road. I have my favourite house I gawk at every time I drive past, and I say to myself, that when I  make my millions, I will build a replica of it somewhere in the world! It’s stunning. I drive on, and come to the roundabout; I take the second exit which leads me to the gym. The traffics pretty good for once, so I don’t even stop, and carry on straight through. I can hear Imogen singing away to Pixie Lott in the back of the car “uh oh, uh oh”. Great song.

I pull into the car park, to see Tan and Kelly, chatting by the cars; I pull up, and wander in just as they are swiping their membership cards at reception. I put Imogen down and fumble around in my hand bag for mine. I never get it ready, why do I never learn? I go through the turnstile, and meet up with my gym buddies. Going to the gym is so much easier with gym buddies. We go to the changing rooms, talking non stop about stuff that happened since the school run, and about deals that we’ve seen for Christmas presents, I always forget my locker key, so I throw my bag and jumper quickly into Kelly’s locker, and pick up my water. We wander up the stairs, to the bikes, and meet Nat and Lauren on the way down, to put their kids in the crèche. We chat on the stairs, getting in peoples way, so we move over, I’ve not seen Nat for a while, need to catch up. They go to the crèche and I go up to get my bike. I put Imogen on the floor, and get chatting again with Tan and Kelly. I completely forget Imogen is wandering around the bikes until the class is about to start. I run her down quickly, sign her in, take her to the room, and give a little wave goodbye. Right spin, here I come….. Be gentle with me!

Chapter 3

As I get onto the bike, the familiar feel of the uncomfortable bike seat comes back to me. Why can’t they pad them out, I have things to do after this, and walking like John Wayne slows me down. I start to pedal slowly, getting into my rhythm, and wait for the trainer to enlighten us what our fate is that day. She’s great, she makes it easy and if I can say the ‘F’ word, Fun!!  She leads us into a false sense of security and starts us off at a good pace. But, having done this before, I know what is to come, the music is pumping, I love the gym atmosphere, it’s a time when I feel eighteen again. I know those years are gone, but definitely not forgotten. I had a great childhood, and fun teenage years. I still can’t believe I am in my thirties… early thirties. I keep saying I am thirty one, but I’m not, I’m thirty two, but my brain can’t seem to comprehend me being that age, so I seem to be stuck at thirty one!  Suits me!! At the age I am, thirty two, I feel like I have done quite a bit in my life, but there is still so much more to do. It’s a big world out there, and I want to taste, experience, live every little bit of it. I love to travel. I think I would be the eternal traveller, you know those people that you see on the side of the roads, with a rucksack, and a board saying M3, that would be me. But I don’t think anyone is going to stop to pick up a family of eight!!!

I’m doing it bit by bit. My Mum and Dad live in Canada, on thirty seven acres of land, my siblings and I have all been given five acres each, so eventually, that’s where we’re headed! “Oh!” Did I just say that out loud? I look to Tan who is sat beside me, the music must have drowned me out! How embarrassing. You know when you’re pushing yourself to the limit, and your mouth starts to do and say weird things involuntary. Spin class is always the place it happens to me. The trainer tells us to turn up a gear, turn up a gear, and turn up a gear!!  Hold on….. I now can’t turn the pedals round! Mine must be faulty, I’m thinking, everybody else is apparently ‘climbing that hill’ I didn’t sign up to bike up a hill; I thought we were on a flat, cycling at a reasonable speed! Well, if the others can do it, I can. So I pretend to turn the gear up and turn it down one instead, my pedals start to turn. Great, I’m on my way. Now, she is telling us to stand up while pedalling, I’m okay with that, except, my knee buckles, I stop pedalling and almost fly over the handle bars!!!  That’s the point, when I thought….You couldn’t make my life up!!

So, the trainer tells me I have the gears too low! That’ll teach me. I crank them up till I am safe. Didn’t realise I would be looking danger in the face in this class. Grant will be impressed, or he’ll just laugh….. He’ll just laugh! The things she gets you to do on a bike, I feel like I should be able to add it to my CV. ‘ Bike acrobatics’ So, we are up and down, hovering, side to side, lean forward, hips back, elbows out, fast, slow, go with the beat….. I don’t think there was this much to remember when I was learning to actually ride a bike.

There comes a point in the class, when I zone. I go into my own little place. This is normally when she is telling us to go a fast as we can for the next three minutes, which by the way, is an age, when you are peddling for your life. When I get to this place, I start by telling myself, I can do it, and I will do. I normally repeat this about ten times, I read somewhere, that if you repeat something to yourself three times, then it’ll stick. I really want it to stick. Then I tend to think about what I need to do for the rest of the day, then when I am really in the zone, she shouts out “TEN SECONDS” I jolt back to life, and look at the others. Red faces all around, I catch sight of myself in the mirror, and almost fall off the bike!  Then Lauren calls me, and I look behind to where she and Nat are sitting. She tells me I have a nice peachy bum! Friends are great. I ask her “Is that another word for fat?” and laugh, oooo, I have a peachy bum. Not bad going for a mum of six, now my goal is a Kylie bum! So now very conscious of my behind (hehe) I push my legs harder, (on a higher gear, I learnt my lesson) and think if I work harder, I am going to get off this bike, and see that my legs have halved in size!!!   Reality check…. I need to eat less rubbish for that to happen!