Picture this. It’s 4pm on a Thursday afternoon. Crazy after school traffic fills the streets, and the kids and I are off to swimming lessons.

 My car, packed to the ceiling with swimming gear and schools bags, dodges in and out of traffic.  A feat in itself considering it’s a two and half ton 4wd and does zero to sixty in  three quarters of an hour.

 Silence has descended on the car after a heated discussion between myself and my three boys regarding the lyrics of Britney’s latest song “If you seek Amy” and why it’s inappropriate for them to be singing it.

 ”Just because!”  seems to  be sufficient enough answer…for now. 

I sigh, relieved and enjoy a moments silence as we wait for the lights to change.

  From the back seat I hear,  “Muuuuuum?” 

I reply “Yes matey?”

  “Is there such a thing as a quandong?” 

“Yes mate” I answer. 

 ”A quandong is a fruit native to Australia.  The Aborigines refer to it as Bush tucker and tastes a bit like a mango.” 

 I feel a bit like super mum with all the answers, and a bit proud of oldest boy for asking such an interesting and diverse question (of course he gets his natural curiosity from his mother) 

 Another moment of silence ensues, then Master Nine turns to his little brothers and says “Boys…..always wear a quandong.” 

Frikkin’ heck,  I think I just heard my sanity slam the car door and walk off!

 

 

Today I sent my babies off to school.

With such an ominous tone to this statement, you’d think I’d sent them off to war instead. Nervous excitement turned into just plain nervous.  The apprehension became hysteria, and as is the case quite frequently with twins, I had to leave the “good one” to soothe the other. As I darted back and forth between the two (all the time thinking I hadn’t said a proper goodbye to my nine year old) I sensed I wasn’t (as Oprah would say) really “in the moment.”   My children needed me, and so I soothed and I comforted, and  as they looked up at me imploringly……their sad little faces made my heart cry.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m pleased they’re all off taking the next step.  I mean really who wants three uneducated teenage boys at home with them in ten years time?  So, I’m not sad for myself.  Not in the sense that I’ve lost something anyway.  I am sad however, that I am now in the position of having to enforce the “go to school” policy.  And believe me day one is not the worst.  The worst comes when the children realise that they are stuck at school for the “term of their natural lives.”  That’s when it all starts to suck.

I give it three weeks.

Then I’m gonna be the worlds worst mum.

Just you wait and see.