COLUMN: Hang tight honey, mama’s having a meltdown

Oh, what a pleasure it is to watch your child’s eyes twinkle and shimmer as they excitedly retell the contents of the latest school circular.

The class is hosting an Entrepreneurs Day.

These were the two words that sent my intestines into pioneer mode. It felt like my heart, lungs, and common sense ceased normal functionality, instead churning butter just north of the solar plexus.

Am I the only mom to go directly into panic mode without passing ‘go’?

I am steadily brought back to reality as my child starts listing the endless possibilities of making some serious moola from his peers.

Ice creams, I blurt out as if my brain has experienced a temporary brain freeze.

More composed and with a nervous smile, I repeat – who can resist a yummy ice cream? Easy enough, right?

Through meticulous planning and poster making, everything needed to facilitate a successful day of business is ready to go.

It is the eve before the long-awaited day.

The house is calm, and the children are asleep. There is neither a stir nor a peep – well, except from me.

With dark rings the size of Orion’s Belt under my eyes, I checked on the dry ice chilling in the fridge at least thrice, engineering contingency plans should it evaporate during the twilight hours.

Oh, the joys of supporting your child’s academic pursuits. This is educational, right? Learning sensible business skills is crucial, right?

Sipping on my morning brew, watching my little businessman talk about how he will lure his friends to his stall, I am silently giving myself a pat on the back.

Well done Mom, just look at that face.

Eagerly we pack the car and are off.

Saying silent prayers, hoping for a successful day for mama’s champ, I gingerly glide past known potholes while the lollies sit securely in their polystyrene cocoon chilling on a hearty block of frozen carbon dioxide – which, thanks to the gods of science, remained solid.

A hooter blares just behind me, causing the butter churn in my gut to unleash the angel of anxiety into my brain.

Did the block of doom, the very thing I warned sonny boy not to touch, burn a hole through the polystyrene and start eating its way through the chassis of my car?

Is there an ominous fog clawing its way out of the boot, leaving a variety of frozen treats in its wake?
Fighting the urge to bring my car to a screeching halt, I stay en route to school, maintaining an award-winning demeanour.

No one within the confines of the vehicle is aware of the all-consuming meltdown taking place in this over-thinker’s cranium.

Never in my life has 35 minutes felt so painfully long.

But, thankfully, logic prevailed, and the day’s stock sat firmly in its place, exactly as packed.

With a kiss and a rather hasty hand-over of the dreaded box that fuelled my angst, ‘boytjie’ was off to do some business, with his older brother tasked to do playground marketing.

The day was a success, and the intended lessons were learnt.

Sleep tight, neurosis, until we meet again. But please, let’s agree to leave the dry ice out of the fight (and my nightmares).

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