Herding Chickens

We have a large convertible. It's a 1966 Pontiac Bonneville. It's as long as a school bus. Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but just slight. It's very long.  And extremely heavy too. I know this for a fact. I know this because I ran over my son's bicycle with it the other day. Didn't even know I was running it over until I felt the last "thump." Whenever you feel a "thump" under your car and you have no idea you've run anything over, panic sets in. Panic as in - "Where are all the children???!!" I was never so grateful that I ran over a bike! I quickly hid the very damaged bike from my son because he was not going to be the least bit grateful it was the bike I ran over.....

You might wonder how this can happen. Me, running over items in my own garage. Well, let me tell you. Getting out of my house by myself with four kids in tow is an extreme sport. By the time I'm backing the car out of the garage I'm so exhausted that I can't see straight.

Don't get me wrong, they're good kids, but something happens the minute I say we have to be somewhere at a certain time. They turn into chickens. Literally. It's like herding chickens. Have you ever herded chickens? They don't herd, they scatter.

That's what my kids do - scatter. I feel like the farmer's wife with her hands outspread trying to coax the chickens into the coop. As soon as they get close to the door they all go in different directions. And squawk! Don't forget the squawking. There's a lot of that going on right before we go somewhere. I must admit, most of it is coming out of my mouth. "Get your shoes on!" I squawk. They squawk back, "We don't know where they are." "Just wear your brother's shoes. We're going to be late," I say. "He can't find his either," is the squawk I hear. "Nobody has shoes??" I ask incredulously. Nope, they're all gone. Right before we need to be somewhere. No shoes. I began searching for shoes. "Here are two shoes; put them on," I say as I hand them to one of my chickens. "They don't match," he squawks. "Wear your long pants, no one will know," I reply. "I can't find my pants," he squawks back.

The farmer's wife is about to lose it. We're running late again and no one is even in the car.  I look around at my mismatched children with a sigh, stretch my arms out, and start herding towards the door. "I didn't brush my teeth!" one squawks. "Just keep your mouth closed." I say. "The whole time?" he asks. "Yes," I answer. "I might get hungry, I better go get a snack," one says as she veers out of the herd. I grad her shirttail and pull her back in. "I have to go to the bathroom!" another says desperately. "Make it quick or hold it." I say unsympathetically.

Finally I get all four of my chickens out the door. Ahhh, success. Almost. Now we have the mini van shuffle. I thought that the two sliding doors were a great invention when mini vans came out with them, but now that I have four chickens, err, I mean children, they're not so great. I have just spent 10 years of my life getting them out the door, and now they're going through the mini van like someone yelled, "Chinese Fire Drill!" In one side, out the other. Just like chickens. And they're quick!  I can't catch them! I know I used to be faster. My baby climbs in the car and goes to the very back corner and sits smiling at me. "Come here right now," I say as I reach my arms toward him. He sits and smiles. He's just out of my reach even with my dramatic stretching and waving of arms trick. I start squawking again, "You better come here right now, or I'm going to climb back there and get you!" I know what he's thinking, he's thinking, "I want to see her crawl across all the baby seats and car seats into the very back and get me. I'll just wait here."  I finally coax him into his baby seat. Then I hide outside one of the doors and one by one catch the Chinese Fire Drillers.

We're already a half hour late, but we're finally on our way. When we pull into our destination my daughter pipes up from the back seat, "Mom, I forgot my shoes...."

My friend sees me and tells me I look tired. "Oh, I've just been herding chickens," I reply.

And one wonders why I run over bikes.....