“Mom, I can’t find my shoes…”

I will be the first to admit I am not at my best in the morning. So to combat this I have been trying to get organised the night before. On Sunday night I had put out the school uniform all ironed, made the sandwiches and made sure the school bags were packed and ready to go.

I was really proud of myself and was looking forward to an easy morning with everthing running smoothly. And to my joy, everything did run pretty well. Until it came time to leave the house.

To my surprise Anna couldn’t find her school shoes. She had not worn them since school on Friday and had not moved them anywhere. So where could they be?

Well like any mother who has a full time job, I wasn’t going to waste any time finding out so I told her to wear her trainers to school and face the wrath of her teacher. Having ransacked the house that night, we still couldn’t find them.

So off she went to school in her trainers for a second day. That day at school though she suddenly remembered that her school shoes were in her sports bag at school where she had left them after gym class last week!

I’m just SMH – shaking my head. Left to right, left to right with a little eye roll at the end for good measure.


Trolley Wars

I remember after Anna was born, the first time I went out by myself was when she was one month old. And to where did I make this first childless journey? The supermarket. And it felt amazing, to be out and about browsing the aisles all alone. Child free. Easy.

Fast forward a few years and these days supermarket trips are a major mission. By the time everyone is dressed and ready to go and we have started the engine before we realise we have no plastic bags, and so have to go back in the house, I’m exhausted. But to the supermarket we must go. To stock up on cheese strings and dairylea dunkers to fill the week’s lunch boxes.

Anyway the point of my story is to warn you of the child pushing a trolley. The child will not give up until you hand over the bar and let them loose and then they’re are a menace racing up and down the aisles.

Anna races up and down with little Elsa traipsing behind her with the sound of me screaming “slow down” in the distance.

I hate those looks you get when your child bumps into someone else’s trolley and you have go mouth “sorry” and run away, leaving behind that loaf of bread you need for the kids’ sandwiches until they have gone.

I have warned her though. If she knocks into someone else’s trolley and they kick off, she’s on her own. If she’s big enough to start a trolley war with someone, she can finish it. And the day that happens will be the day we buy an extortionate monthly pass to get our shopping delivered at home where we will get the left over fruit and veg no one else wants. I can’t wait. The joys of parenthood never end.