Becoming a School Run Mum

Laura Sands - 17 Sep 15

One of the most relentless facts of parenthood is that no matter how hard you try, you rarely avoid becoming that which you once criticised or ridiculed.

For example:

“My children will not have brightly coloured plastic toys, they’ll play with beautifully crafted wooden toys only.” (Fail)

“My offspring will eat only organic home-made food.” (Fail)

“TV will only be on during wildlife documentaries and family movie nights.” (Fail)

“I will never sniff or inspect my baby or toddler’s bottom in public.” (Fail)

Becoming a School Run Mum seemed just another situation to avoid. There was no way I’d ever become one of those mothers. Eyes steely with determination as they navigate the traffic in their oversized child-mobiles, blocking the roads and parking inappropriately. Dressed in pyjamas, Uggs and a raincoat whilst hissing at their progeny to get in / out of the car more quickly. Why don’t they just get off their butts and walk? I’d think. It’s not as if they do anything all day…

Yep. I knew that I’d keep at my career. I would never drive a people carrier as I would walk or cycle my children to school (around my fantastic career). I would of course look stylish and be serene throughout. I would accessorise this school run with a suitably shaggy but cute looking dog.

Needless to say; fail. Epic fail. But you knew that already right?

On the 8th September 2015, I became a School Run Mum. I’d already swapped the high flying “career” option for more manageable freelance employment. I figured that hospitalising myself through keeping at a career whilst juggling the School Run of my Dreams was not an option.

I applied for 3 schools within walking distance and local amenities planning meant that didn’t get any of them. So I drive my cherub to school. 

And yes, I drive a 6 person people carrier. 

I got caught in traffic, painfully aware that I was adding to the traffic, and couldn’t I find a way to cycle both children to school? 

I’m not sure I looked drab (I certainly wasn’t wearing my PJs), but I wasn’t the epitome of sweet temperedness that I would have liked. 

I smiled and spoke as softly as I could when my 4-year old cried that he didn’t want to go to school; he wanted to stay at home with mummy. Because of course, I wanted him to stay at home with me too, and a small part of my heart broke when I dressed him in the flat, featureless school uniform that marked his transition into the wide open world.

I pretended to sing along cheerfully to those damned nursery rhyme CDs in the car, but my voice caught and betrayed the tears running down my face.

And I kissed my baby on the cheek before he ran off into his new classroom holding hands with his friend; leaving me standing there knowing that this was the first of many bittersweet beginnings. 

And the shaggy but cute looking dog? There isn’t one. Perhaps I’ll get one for the spring term.

Laura Sands

Laura Sands is a freelance writer and blogger. She lives in Godalming, Surrey with a Yorkshireman (her husband), two sons - Hugo (4) and George (2) as well as a rather grumpy cat. She enjoys a spot of blogging, and is happiest surrounded by good food, good friends, family and fresh air.

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