My second job

I am quickly learning that my second job is that of taxi driver. I am the mom taxi. I need one of those clever bumper stickers that declares my status as taxi driver. I can spend anywhere from 20 minutes to a couple of hours running children to various sporting practices and events about three to four days a week.

The more driving I do, the more I wish for my extended van with separate bucket seats for each child. That way, no one can touch anyone else. They would have to fashion a poking stick in order to bother their neighbor. As it is, I rarely make it to our destination without witnessing WWF in the rear view mirror. If you are ever driving along and see a mini-van pulled over with children sitting or screaming on the side of the road, it's probably me. You can't have time-out in a van in which your neighbor is easily accessible.

The cleanliness of my vehicle has never been top priority, but this fall with the introduction of three or four children in sports, it's a virtual nightmare in there. I think there's a secret stash of sippies buried in the mess. The milk in them has likely turned to cheese. I'm only guessing at their location, I haven't actually spotted them. I just know they have been disappearing and we are down to about three sippies in the drawer. And no matter how often I tell the children not to take toys in the car, it seems there's at least a toy box worth of toys in the van.

Of course it doesn't help that I pack things in there that I never take out. I like to think of it as being prepared for any possible situation. There's a picnic blanket and a camping chair, just in case. There are almost always extra shoes. There's also a first aid kit that slides back and forth across the floor as I drive. See, it's really preparation, not 'lazy mom who doesn't want to clean out the filthy van'.

And this taxi driver will only listen to 'Mary had a little lamb' once a week. The rest of the time it's Rob Thomas or the radio. If the small people I call my children are going to torture me in the car, then I at least get the satisfaction of listening to Rob Thomas. He makes even a screaming toddler bearable!