I was driving a friend home the other night when I thanked the Lord it was too dark for her to see the state of my car. Nina the Barina used to be an absolute beauty – shiny new and sparkling clean. Then I started driving Miss Annie and Master Henry and now it’s a pit of doom I’m embarrassed to show people.
Every week I take out my purple plastic bucket and clear out Nina’s nooks and crannies. She might be the size of a golf cart but she can hold piles of festering rubbish, discarded clothes and more books than a mobile library.
Without fail there will be empty raisin packets, half-eaten apples, banana skins, abandoned sandwich triangles and drink bottles leaking old water everywhere. Each week I shake my head at these messy children with their filthy habits and think “Honestly, who’s raising these kids?”
Disgusted, deflated and downhearted, I stumbled across an article 5 Ways I’ve Managed To Keep A Clean Car With 3 Kids. Tip number five is to get the kids to help out. The 14-month-old is a write-off but I’ve been busy manipulating her big brother, who now thinks carrying stuff into the house is the most important job ever.
While he’s stumbling up the stairs loaded like a Sherpa, I do a ‘sweep and clean’ and throw the rubbish straight into the big red bin. Then I strike a Valerie Adams pose at the bottom of the stairs and chuck any leftover gear up to the front door, only just resisting the temptation to spin around like Val. About half the stuff ends up in the bougainvillea below, leading to a rumble in that jungle while I try to avoid the bush’s thorns, all the while listening to the baby going ballistic, still stuck in the car.
Now I’m off to see if I can buy those trash bags which hang behind car seats. Try not to be too jealous of my amazing life.