Somewhere between piano lessons and the 4-H Fair, I lost the feeling in my left butt cheek. I’ve become one with the seat of my Jeep. My Apple algorithm thinks I’m 12, and my car is less a vehicle and more a time capsule of growing-up moments.
Hi. I’m Angela, and I’m a full-time mom taxi.
If you’ve ever found a rogue football cup under your front seat, or said, “Is that a half-eaten sandwich or a science project?”—then you might be one too.
Let’s break down the highs, the lows, and the straight-up absurdities of being our children’s unpaid Uber drivers.
PRO: You Know Where Your Kids Are
CON: You Always Know Where Your Kids Are
Yes, they’re safe. Yes, you have tabs on them. Yes, you’re not worried they’re wandering the neighborhood with a popsicle and a prayer like it’s 1988.
But also… you’re never alone. Like, ever. If someone’s not arguing over the phone charger, they’re asking if I have a snack. (“Because this is a 10-minute drive and I am not Amazon Prime for Cheez-Its, Jase.”)
PRO: You Get Quality Time
CON: It’s Often in the Form of Sighing, Eye Rolling, or TikTok Volume Battles
In theory, all this chauffeuring gives you “bonding time.” In reality, it sounds more like:
- “Did you remember your shoes?”
- “You told me this started at 5:00! It’s 4:58!”
- “NO, I’m not going to turn around because you forgot your cheer socks.”
- “Whose chewed gum is in the cupholder?!”
But sometimes, if the mood is just right (read: no one’s hangry), you get those rare unicorn moments—when they start talking without prompting, when they let you in. That’s the good stuff. The in-between stuff. The “worth it” stuff.
PRO: You’re Involved
CON: You’re TOO Involved
You learn the names of the teammates, the coaches, the other moms, and possibly the janitor. You start organizing snack sign-ups. You remember jersey numbers. You become a logistical goddess.
And then one day you realize: You haven’t peed in peace since May. Your email inbox is 90% volunteer requests and dance costume invoices.
You’re somehow part of four group chats that don’t need to exist, but you can’t leave because there’s always one piece of critical info buried between 43 “ok sounds good!” replies and a rogue GIF of a sloth doing the macarena.
PRO: They’re Doing All the Things!
CON: They’re Doing ALL. THE. THINGS.
You wanted well-rounded kids. Active kids. Socially-engaged, multi-talented, “yes, this will look great on a college app” kind of kids.
You got them.
Football. Piano. Cheer. 4-H. That random art class they insisted on but now “don’t really like anymore.”
Let’s not forget practices, games, fittings, meetings, and the occasional “Can you pick up _____ for practice too.”
Every night feels like a Nascar pit stop between events:
- Toss them a sandwich.
- Swap a shirt.
- Pray they don’t notice they’re wearing mismatched socks.
- Peppy goodbye and off to the next thing.
Are they thriving? Yes. Are you? Debatable.
PRO: You’re a Fly on the Wall
CON: You Hear Everything
Ah, middle school gossip. Playground politics. The “he said/she said” recaps. The front seat is like Switzerland—neutral ground where they forget you exist and talk freely.
You learn who’s dating who, which coach yells too much, who got kicked out of group chat, and whose mom definitely smells like weed at pickup.
This is juicy stuff.
Of course, it comes with the downside of knowing everything. And I mean everything. Including your child’s very strong opinion that 4-H foods judging is “low-key terrifying” and Sally Sue told Jimmy’s cousin that so and so stole a debit card and used it. (True story!)
PRO: It’s a Season
CON: It Feels Like a Lifetime
Everyone says, “You’ll miss this one day.”
I probably will.
But right now, my calendar is color-coded chaos. My car smells like sweat and stale fries. And if I hear “Mom, I need to be there 20 minutes early!” one more time, I might fake my own death and start a new life selling wind chimes in Vermont.
Still, I remind myself—this is a season. A loud, sticky, wonderful mess of a season. One day they won’t need rides. One day they’ll have their own keys, their own schedules, and I’ll miss being the background music to their everyday life.
So for now, I’ll soak it up.
(With a side of sarcasm and drive-thru iced coffee.)
Closing Thoughts (From the Driver’s Seat)
Being a mom taxi is equal parts privilege and punishment.
You’re the keeper of the schedule, the finder of the lost cleats, the supplier of post-practice snacks, and the ride-or-die (literally) for every single activity under the sun.
Is it exhausting? Absolutely. Is it beautiful in that gritty, real-life way? Also yes.
So if you’re out there driving loops around town in a car that smells like teen spirit and Febreze, I see you.
I salute you.
And I hope your next coffee is hot and your next drive-thru line is short.
P.S. Don’t forget to check under the seat this weekend. You will find a granola bar, a dried-up marker, and maybe your will to live.
You’re doing great, mama.
Fry, Party of Five 