Today, as I procrastinate on the web I find myself thinking of those little jobs that never get done. Sure, I could be working my way through them now, but cleaning the car out wont enhance my career as a writer will it?

Of course I could do what Im sure sensible people do and bring the rubbish in after each trip rather than letting the footwells fill up with wrappers, books, childrens clothing and various debris: That would be far too simple would at it? I have instead, a boot full of plastic bags, each one signifies my intention to tidY..Before I set off on various exciting expeditions to the supermarket or the thrill of the school run, I load up the children into their car seats and add a carrier to the boot: for when I return home I shall bring in the wildlife!! On the very few occasions I have managed to achieve this, the plastic bags sit on the stairs for at least a week before my long suffering husband decides he has had enough of me walking past them and sorts them out himself… Many a suitable childs jumper has be worn and discarded in that car, only to be retrieved with such a lapse in time that it nolonger reaches the wrist.

But who cares right? I dont often have car visitors. The other half has a quick jog round if the in-laws are coming for fear they will see it as another reason why Ill never be good enough for their son….If the MIL starts clearing it out (yes that’s happened) then I know Ive gone too far. Shame on me for allowing life to get in the way of a spotless car eh?. She does have a small point though, if passive aggressively made: It is fairly shameful isnt it? I mean, I hate that moment just before I step out the car door, where I pray that a red bull can will not clatter out after me or heaven forbid, someone finds out we had drive-through Macdonalds a week ago (or a month whatever) oh the shame!

Not too long ago the eldest opened her door, only for a sudden gust of wind to blow 10 sandwich bags across the playground (leftover from our half term trip, should H get travel sickness). Of course I then had a choice, do I run after them thus alerting even more people to the fact that Im a complete Slummy Mummy, or do I leave them and risk the raised eyebrows of the few Chelsea tractor driving yummies who did see…. I opted for a third option, yes, I made it into a game. Quick H, chase the bags, catch the bags, oh isnt this fun.. Since that day the eldest has continued to ask me when can we play the bag catch game again mummy?

The upside to all this however, is that as the car gets messier and messier I HAVE to get more organised in the mornings (?). I can now be found leaving the house at a reasonable time in order to avoid having to park at the school: Im officially a walker now. The shame of being the parent who gets in THAT car is all consuming. Ive seen more than the odd glance at the dashboard by families walking past, wow mummy look at that the children point at the lose change, pair of sunglasses (yes, in the middle of winter) pieces of lego and wetwipes which festoon the ledge.. I can only hope that such families passing have the same walk/drive debate and can empathise. If not, well. Maybe they are cleaning out their cars rather than writing about not doing it…