Leaving the house with kids.

I have an errand to run today after naptime. It’s a solid 25-30 minutes away, and we won’t be getting out of the car, so you could say it really won’t be anything but me driving the children around for an hour. I’m dreading it already, and we’re still a solid 2.5 hours from it. But leaving the house with two kids is like being punched in the face with the reality of how much your children want to break you.

Toddlers do their best toddlering when their parents are trying to accomplish something. Mine, for instance, LOVES to “need” to pee every 4.5 minutes for the entire time we’re out of our house, despite the fact that she only goes every 2ish hours while we’re home. The delight of using any disgusting public restroom we can find within the required 47 seconds before she pees herself is just too much for her to contain. She lives for peeing in nasty bathrooms. Her only mission is to touch as much of a foreign toilet seat as possible. It’s her lifeblood.

I’ll also need to pack 37 snacks, because the only time to eat is in the car. Because where else can you create that level of crumbage with no access to a vacuum that doesn’t cost $17 in all quarters? It’s just not to be beat. Also, don’t forget to pack the juice that makes your toddler pee every 4.5 minutes. We should invent a carseat with a bedpan. That’d be great for us.

We’re also going to need various toys to keep them from losing their ever-loving minds, and since I’m that obnoxious mother who doesn’t like noisy toys (don’t judge me until you’ve had to live with them), most of them are heavy and wooden, and pro-tip, WILL poke you in the back because you carelessly stuffed them into the backpack diaper bag that is bigger than your body because you signed up to be a Sherpa. Ahem, mother of two.

Let’s not forget that we live in a third floor walk-up. Also a walk-down. Which doesn’t seem so bad. Except for two small children who really don’t have a lot of bodily control are trying to thrust us to our demise at the bottom of the all-concrete staircase. Also, because our neighbors are THE WORST and decide they need a solid 5 cars per person, we usually have to park a mile from the house, so… make everything work in ONE TRIP. Oh, wait. The toddler has to pee. As soon as we’re to the bottom. Of the 41 steps. Yes, I’ve counted.

At this point, I’ll be completely ready to just tell her all the cool kids pee their pants, just so I don’t have to make the trip back up the stairs. But that would be super irresponsible parenting. So up we’ll trek. Because I have to do something right today.

Can we just talk about an hour in the car with two kids with no benefit to them? Because it’s not a pretty picture. I recently learned that if you lie and say you’ll take a trip to the carwash if they stop howling at the moon (in the daylight, yeah), the toddler WILL remember. For all of eternity. And will remind you of your betrayal in as many ways as possible. And punish you for it every time. So just don’t do it. It’s the greatest show of karma I’ve ever encountered. And you know what they say about karma.

Can we just forget about the errand? I’m ready to have a breakdown just thinking about it. I’ll just take a nap instead. Oh wait, I have children. Naps are no longer on the menu. Wine it is!


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