I’ve almost killed my kids, many times.

I almost killed my kids, many times… the title of this blog is absolutely true. I wish that it wasn’t, but it is.

But you know what, my best guess is that after reading this blog, many of you will admit that you have too.

It’s 4:30 and here I am with two kids in the backseat, driving to pick up my husband work. Both kids are buckled in and I am going the speed limit. So far so good, right? Just then, my six month old daughter starts to cry, her pacifier has come out and I know there is little chance for her to stop unless it finds it’s way back in. So what do I do? I keep one hand on the wheel and Go Go Gadget my arm around the drivers seat, stretching my fingers, searching, all the while, foot is on the gas and only two fingers remain on the wheel. I have no idea what my speed is because my only thoughts are getting that bink in her mouth and ending the crying.

I find it. Thank God! It feels like you have found the Holy Grail when your fingers close around that rubber miracle. Good, she she is taken care of. Now my son is asking for something. He speaks slightly above a whisper at three years old and so I move my rear view mirror down to see him in the hopes of possibly trying to read his tiny lips. It takes a few tries but I see the word Goldfish and begin rifling through the back pack on the passengers seat for the zip lock bag of orange fish shaped kid cocaine. I have no idea how long it’s been since I even thought to look at the road or the speedometer. I feel his fingers close around around the bag and check that off my list.

All is quiet for a few minutes, only the sounds of crunching goldfish and contented suckling can be heard from the back seat.

Then my son asks for something again, I should have guessed what it was because he has been asking for the same thing for over a month now, but I move that rear view mirror again. While it’s down I quickly check my daughter in her baby mirror, she’s out like a light, and I go about my lip reading again. Yup, could have guessed it, the “Cloudy with with a Chance of Meatballs” audio recording. Now I have to get my tablet out, plug it in and search for the damn thing. After God knows how long I find it, adjust the speakers so the attack of school sized pancakes doesn’t wake up my daughter and we’re good.

This entire list of things to do could have taken five minutes to an hour, I have no idea how long I’ve been doing them or how long I’ve been putting our lives in danger.

It’s funny. When I’m by myself, without any distractions, I’m the safest driver in the world. But when my kids are the car, the two people, that depend on me to be a safe driver, I speed, I take my eyes off the road, I take my hands off the wheel. They’ve outlawed texting while driving. It might be even safer to outlaw parenting while driving. Sometimes my son asks me to read him a book while I’m behind the wheel and I say, I can’t right now, Buddy, I’m driving. Of course he would ask me to read him a book, I’ve been doing everything else BUT driving.

OK, I’m going going to drop a big bomb here Ladies and Gentlemen and may no doubt hear about this in the comment section of this blog, but do you know that during during a long car ride I even gave my daughter a bottle while driving? Horrible. Not a proud moment in the slightest.

The crazy part of this whole thing is that in some ways this lack of good driving is not really our fault. We are made to feel that in some order to be good parents we must be able to see our children at all times, hence the baby mirrors and young babies should not be left to cry. Add onto that the social fear of being late and there you have the perfect combo for roadside disaster.

I have put my life and my kid’s lives in danger time and time again because I didn’t want to take the time to pull over, prepare ahead of time or simply say not right now. That needs to change.

I would rather hear temporary tears than permanent silence. I think being being a couple minutes late is worth that.