I know a mommy car when I see one; and I understand enough to not make a big deal about it. But, let me tell you, there are some people out there who won’t return the favour. Even people who know how I roll make a production every time they get a peek inside my vehicle.
So what does inside look like? Like inside the vehicle of any mother whose children eat, sleep, change and play inside the car. And some of you should stop acting like you don’t know.
Then, of course, you have to throw in accoutrements of a working woman (several pairs of shoes and paperwork) and the kids’ arts and crafts that don’t always have prompt delivery inside the house.
And, you know, people make comments all the time – until you come to their rescue. I’m not trying to put anybody on Front Street, but I’ve saved folks from eating with their fingers by producing cutlery; even had a pair of flip flops for someone who had a shoe malfunction. And tell me the person who doesn’t feel like they struck gold when hunger pangs start sounding like a tiger and you can come up with chips, a packet of peanuts or, at the very least, some hard candy to hold them over.
Truth is, most times, it is what it is. And I don’t usually even notice the state of affairs – until I have an adult passenger, especially one who doesn’t know the deal and whose need suddenly arises.
Those times find me tossing things off the front seat into the back and then quickly brushing off the seat. I mean, it’s not like I want my passenger walking into work with stuff stuck to their butt. And, in my world, that could range from a chicken nugget left back from a kid’s snack or glitter from an arts and craft project.
And speaking of arts and crafts, could someone tell me the appropriate holding period before a parent can, um, make room for more?
Honestly, I ooh and ah over everything my kids bring home, even the really abstract things (the times when they are like, ‘do you like my elephant?’ and you assume the big guy is somewhere in there in the big pink and grey blob but you tell your child, ‘yes, it’s fantastic’), and I think the problem starts there. Because if I like it so much, how then can I later explain its sudden disappearance from the overcrowded refrigerator.
Seriously, though, what’s a parent to do with all the artwork – the tons of day-to-day stuff and all growing piles of seasonal art (Mother’s Day, Father’s Day, Easter and Christmas)? And most of all, how do you “spring clean” without hurting a kid’s feelings? How do you explain the disappearance of a “masterpiece” or, even worse, explain the discovery of same in the garbage?
But, believe me, I’m running out of display space. Because, yes, my boys want to see us appreciating their efforts. But there is too much stuff on the refrigerator right now, so that it’s not an effective display area anymore. There’s artwork over artwork, covering schedules and other information that’s on the refrigerator as a reminder but events which I forget because the latest artwork got posted over them.
Anyway my big boy looks into things closely, so that if I were to undertake operation “art away,” he’d question me about equal distribution, forgetting that he had a few years head start on my little one.
I hear some people saying just throw the stuff out and keep it moving, and I don’t mean to be melodramatic or anything like that.
But you know how you read these stories about adults who end up in some spot of bother and then relate how some experience when they were two years old made them feel unloved and unappreciated and triggered the series of events that eventually landed them in hot water.
… Hey, sudden bright idea: maybe some aunts, uncles, godparents and friends might want some “gifts.”
I think I’m going to start with the heavy macaroni and Crayola number that keeps sliding down and pulling everything under it to the floor.