I Don’t Get Out Much

Mummy Confession: I don’t get out of the house much. With or without kids.

School holidays have rolled around again, and that brings my stubborn side out. The side that hates leaving home. We have only left the area a handful of times, because the thought of it alone exhausts me. It’s gotten worse with the number of children. Though, I love socialising and getting out of the everyday routine, it’s so daunting just to get out of the house!

Take for instance this typical before, during and after a trip outside of our neighbourhood: I corral all the children together as I tell them we are going somewhere. Next, they all dart in opposite directions excitedly as I yell for them to put on various articles of clothing. I answer questions of, “where’s that?” I’m serious that it takes about fifteen minutes for shoes alone.

After about an hour, everyone is dressed. Now, I have to convince the oldest and middle children to use the toilet before we leave, because I’m not managing three children in a McDonald’s restroom on the way there.  Twenty minutes later, they have finally finished.

Then I wrangle the kids into the car, buckling them in, and drive to my destination, answering various questions (the same one over and over again usually) about where we are going and who we are meeting. Following that, I get them unbuckled, unload and set up the pram, filling it with several bags of “just in case.”

We roll up in the pram, and I chase them around for hours (as again, they all take off in multiple directions at once) with trips to the toilet every twenty minutes and snacks every ten, while trying to simultaneously prevent the youngest now from putting everything in his mouth and crawling away.

Finally, I find myself debating with them about getting back into the car. Several threats and bribes later I accomplish the feat. Strolling back, I lure them back into the car, changing the littlest, feeding the littlest, buckling seatbelts, wrestling the pram back in the car, and then taking a deep breath before getting home and unloading all the “not tired” passengers. And that’s just a typical venture out for a short while. (Minus the pram for Grandma’s house.) Can you imagine if we actually got out?

I know, I know, it’s good for kids to have experiences, spend time exploring and learning. But, when the holidays roll around and I am not scheduled to get somewhere twenty minutes later than what I set out to arrive, it takes a while to work up the energy and, dare I say, courage to take all of them out on my own.

It’s not that they aren’t behaved. They behave like any child, and I love them to bits. I just don’t feel like spending half an hour negotiating with a toddler on why it’s time to go home. It’s a lose, lose situation and someone always winds up crying. Generally, it’s the children in the car on the way home. And let’s not talk about how the baby now realises when we’re leaving and breaks down in hysterics as I try to strap him into his car seat.

How does it go for you? Do you brave the outside neighbourhood when it’s holiday time? How much time does it take “psyching yourself up” to leave?