There are some great inventions out on the market today that have made my life easier. We don’t always have the funds to invest in something new and wonderful, but when we do, watch out. A crockpot? Yep, made life easier AND my kids actually get dinner now (there is a Before Crockpot life and an After Crockpot life, and let me tell you, the After Crockpot life is much better). The Internet? Hey, that’s Husband’s livelihood, so I sure am glad for that. An app for tracking my last period? I don’t know who I’d be without that one.
But there are still some gaping holes in the make-life-easier, especially when it comes to parents. I would like the inventors to get on these asap (and you’re welcome for the ideas).
1. Divider glass between the front seat and the back seats.
I own a minivan. It’s the only vehicle large enough to hold my six kids, but it is not a vehicle large enough to make ignoring them a possibility. Every time we load up to take a trip, even if it’s to the grocery store ten minutes down the road, the first question we hear, before we pull out of the drive, is “Are we almost there?” If we happen to be traveling farther than fifteen minutes up the road, we’re in for a very long trip with billions of opportunities to exercise our patience. I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m bored, my back hurts, I dropped my pencil, you made my book fall, he hit me, he’s copying me, he’s laying on me, he’s touching me, he’s looking at me, are we almost there, are we almost there, are we almost there?
I don’t want billions of opportunities to exercise my patience. I would like a glass divider between my seat and theirs so that when things get out of hand, all I have to do is touch a button, wave in the rearview and say, “You’re on your own now, kids.”
2. A cone of silence to put over my face.
Let me just tell you, this would have to be a really strong cone of silence. My kids speak at an average of 3,000 decibels. I am an introvert who, by dinnertime, has had it with the noise six boys can create. I would put on this handy cone when they’re losing their minds about is dinner ready they’re really hungry they’re starving I’m such a mean mom I won’t let them have a snack two minutes before dinner no they haven’t had forty snacks I’m not remembering correctly. I would put it on my face when the 9-year-old starts talking about Pokemon. I would put it on my face when the twins figure out another way to scale the wall and get to their clothes in the closet so they don’t hear what I have to say about the way their closet is now, for the twelfth time this week, all over their floor.
I don’t even care what this looks like. It could look like a giant black spider for all I care (I’ll make that sacrifice). In fact, that might be better. Then I’ll have extra protection, because the kids would be too afraid to come near.
On second thought, maybe I just need a mute button.
3. An invisibility cloak.
This, of course, would be for those moments when the baby is down and ready to go to sleep, even closing his eyes, but the moment he spots you, the whole world is ending and you’re going to have to pick him up, because he’ll cry for 32 hours straight. But an invisibility cloak would also help us smuggle restaurant food into the bedroom when the kids are supposed to be asleep (there would be an extra feature to neutralize the smell of chips and queso and the medium well burger). It would also help a parent successfully sneak out of the house to get a minute to themselves without someone following them, whining at them, asking for something, like another orange or the answer to 147 times 89 or the miracle of turning back time.
4. Toilet paper rolls that have a lock and key.
This would save me considerable money. My 3-year-old twins, you see, are really, really good at experiments like “What happens when you throw a whole roll of toilet paper in the toilet I just peed in?” They do it about every other day. They think it’s funny to watch the edges of the paper curl and the way white caves in on itself. It’s not funny. These experiments cost me an average of $15 a month. For the mathematically impaired, that’s $180 a year. That would pay for my electricity bill any month that’s not part of a Texas summer (there aren’t many).
I would like a toilet paper dispenser that’s not afraid to stand up against 3-year-old hands, please.
5. A magic pill that makes a kid feel full.
I am telling you, boys are something else. They can eat a whole pound of strawberries, and they’re still hungry. They can eat twelve bananas and they’re still hungry. They can stuff an entire loaf of bread in their mouth, along with a stick of butter, and they will still be hungry. A pill that could tell them they’re actually just bored would be fantastic.
6. A mobile shoe-tracking app.
I would love to download an app onto my phone that would tell me where every right shoe the 5-year-old owns is hiding, because this is getting a little ridiculous. He wasn’t born with two left feet, but looking at his shoe basket, you would think someone thought it would be funny to put us in an episode of Punk’d: What Happens When All the Right Shoes Disappear. Every morning he’s supposed to be getting ready for school, and it’s the same old story. Only left shoes for every pair of shoes he owns. Can’t find the other one. I spend hours of my life looking for this right shoe and finding it only so it can get lost again.
No, Apple, there’s not an app for everything. This is a giant hole in the app world. Somebody needs to get on this. I would, but I don’t really have what’s called an “inventing mind.” In fact, I don’t really know where my mind is now that I have kids. It’s certainly not where it used to be—or what it used to be.
I guess that’s why all these inventions-that-haven’t-been-invented-yet all seem so brilliant.
Let me know when these inventions are available. I’ll be the first in line to buy…if I’m not already brain-dead from the effort of raising six boys without them.
