I’m sure there’s a funny list somewhere of jimmy-rigged body parts parents wished they had — an actual eye in the back of our heads, ears that sealed shut, feet that felt no pain when they trampled on underfoot legos and Polly Pocket heads. But what I really need is an extra arm.
Especially in the car.
There are some things that are universal: ALL CHILDREN WILL WAKE UP AT SIX AM ON A SUNDAY BUT HAVE TO BE DRAGGED OUT OF BED ON A MONDAY MORNING AT SEVEN AM. KICKING AND SCREAMING.
Here’s another that may be universal as well (I’m curious), and the reason I could use that arm: The moment one of the girls (not the boys) finish an item of food anywhere, but especially in the car, the wrapping of that food turns to molten lava, and they are unable to touch it, even for a few seconds. Instead, they lose their minds completely until they have given me the detritus. (“Mummy! Take this trash! Now!”) This happens a lot when we are walking down the street and I have gotten much better at making them hold the string cheese wrapper until we come to a trash can, even if it pains them, which it clearly does.
But in the car, I am weak. They will not hold their trash and I do not make them. I do not want to hear the pained howling while I drive. Instead, I stretch one of my puny arms as far back as it will go and I retrieve the cheese wrapper, the cracker bag, the soggy, empty yogurt stick as they hoot and holler in agony. (The boys are more than happy to silently shove their trash in between the seats or under the seat in front of them.)
Which is why I need a third arm.
Or just a better backbone.
PS: I have been asked why there are no (Jewish) New Year’s resolutions this year. It’s because I’m my most perfect self and there’s nothing I could improve if I tried. Or not. It’s because the list is too long and painful and I just don’t want to think about it. I’ll wait until December 31st. Stay tuned.