By JO ABI.
Do you want to know what kind of mother you are? Just try driving with kids. Try and keep them fed and happy. Try and distribute snacks, sort out fights, negotiate lunch options and keep everyone happy.
Trust me, it just a matter of time before you head for a drive-through or stock up on portable electronic devices, and lollypops. Always keep HEAPS of them in your glove box. NEVER run out.
Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by the Nissan. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100% authentic and written in their own words.
My mum had a trick to shut us up in the car. If we were all fighting in the back seat, she’d tap on the brake. Just a tap. It let us know that if we didn’t cut it out she’d pull over and deal with us properly. It usually worked.
If the brake tap failed she might try slapping our legs while driving. This is a difficult move to master while driving but she became quite good at it. She’d deftly slap all three sets of legs in one, easy motion and the ten minutes of silence that followed must have been like heaven to her ears.
I never wanted to be the kind of mother who slapped or yelled. One out of two isn’t too bad, is it? Except when you yell in a car it’s pretty scary for children and the immediate guilt you feel makes it difficult to remember all the road rules. You’ll do a lot of apologetic waves to other drivers who, if they have an ounce of compassion, will see your car full of screaming and crying children (and one screaming and crying mother) and just stop and wave you through red lights, roundabouts and into parking spaces.
The most horrific incident involving my children and our car was definitely when I was a first-time mum. I lived an hour away from my parents and would visit them every Thursday.
Philip was such a good baby. We’d listen to children’s songs all the way there (shoot me) and on the way back he’d sleep soundly and I’d listen to Boney M or the Chess soundtrack (this car is not being driven by a cool mum, sorry).
One day Philip started crying as soon as I buckled him in for the drive home. Was he hungry, wet, sick? I’d fed him and changed him. I figured he wasn’t feeling well but would fall asleep at some staged during the drive.
About 30 minutes in I lost it. His crying had escalated into screeching and I was on a freeway and couldn’t stop.
“Stop crying,” I yelled and started sobbing.
We both cried the rest of the way home.