Changing my Life: Mom-Taxi Time
September 2023
Coming soon: I can’t wait to update you on my experiment putting the impossible on my to-do list! It’s been a weird and fun ride so far. Stay tuned next week and read up here if you missed it:
And here’s a cultural WTF of the Day: When I browsed stock photos to grab a pic for this post and typed in mom driving, mom minivan, mom car… NOTHING. Just dozens of moms holding babies up in the air, or cuddling them on their laps, or swinging kids around in fields of daisies. There were bunch of shots of MEN driving, though, so… thank you? WTF do people think that moms actually DO?! Get it together, America! Moms be taxi-driving like crazy, yo!
That’s right, mama, I see you. You gorgeous afterschool-activity-masterminding, taxi-driving, sustenance-procuring maven, you. How you doin’?
You know that moment at the beginning of a season when you’re mapping out who needs to be where after school each day and you suddenly realize that the time space continuum is going to need to be dramatically altered because the geography ÷ time equation won’t work? The moment you realize kid A needs to be somewhere 8 miles away from kid B at the exact same time? (And, please tell me, if you have a kid C or D how does this math ever work out?!)
When I realized this would be my reality on Tuesday afternoons this fall, my mom-solving brain flipped into high gear. Maybe there was a way I could drop off one kid at their thing early, then drive 25 minutes to go drop the other, then swing back 3 towns to pick up the first kid, then drive back across the county to get the other?
(This plan would only work, of course, if I was at the very front of Kid A’s carline, which would necessitate arriving at his school 25 minutes before school got out, so let’s tack another 30 minutes onto the four-hour affair for good measure!)
When I pictured making this trek every week it sounded… awful. For me, sure. But also maybe for them? I could imagine the scowls on both kids faces at being corralled and rushed and dumped off and my pained voice scolding, “Hurry up we have to go pick up your brother!” “Hurry up we gotta get your sister!”
I know, this is just life with multiple kids. We could manage it. But then I started picturing how it might feel to be driving just one kid at a time, maybe trying to make it fun for both of us. Planning ahead to play the music we’re both super into, or maybe surprising them by testing out one of my old throwbacks. (My son currently thinks the song “Tubthumping” by Chumbawamba is the height of hilarity.) I pictured us trading inside jokes, having some time intentionally carved out each week for the conversations I’ve been wanting to have with them:
-Seems like dinner was hard for you last night. What’s up?
-I found someone else’s lip gloss in your pocket when I was doing the laundry. Wanna tell me about that?
-I was so uncomfortable when the character in that show last night kept laughing at the “fat kid,” making homophobic jokes, and also, did you know that boys calling other boys “pussy” is mysogynistic? (Ah, the pleasure and perils of watching 80’s movies with your kids…)
As my kids get older, I am gripped by the panic that we’re somehow “growing apart,” and also slightly mystified as to how to interpret the flavor of today’s particular shrugs and grunts: Huh. I dunno. No. Sure.
So I threw a hail Mary, texting a grandma to see if she could drive Kid B on Tuesdays (THANK YOU, JUDY!) and confirming my husband could manage Kid A after school on Thursdays so I could take Kid B for some mom time on the way to her trumpet lessons.
For the elder, I’m arming myself with sarcastic jokes and silly memes and lighthearted (but-not-really) questions about friends at school and tween-age struggles.
For the younger, I’m packing silliness and play, and some conversation ideas I hope will help her step more confidently into her self-leadership, served with a scoop or two of ice cream (of course!).
I’m already learning it will take some work to keep this time intentional, though. When a regular call I usually join on Mondays got rescheduled for Tuesday last week, I tried listening in with an AirPod in one ear while simultaneously fielding questions and interjections from my son.1
We cruised along, in our own worlds, for 10 minutes or so, until I realized what I was doing, hung up on the call, and apologized. Then I turned up the Hamilton soundtrack so we could rap-sing our hearts out.
I know he just thinks of this time as “mom driving me to rehearsal.” But in my calendar it’s: Car Date with my Kid. (No heels or lipstick required. BYO Chumbawumba)
No diss on moms doing calls in the car with their kids!! Mom’s gotta do what she gotta do sometimes! Let’s all keep momming a judgment-free situation. This gig is hard enough. ❤️
And your kids probably think, "My Mom likes driving around listening to show tune music!"