Happy Friday to you all!
I made that typical mum mistake last night of overestimating my abilities. I decided that because I am off work today and merely had to get up this morning and to get myself and the boys ready and them to school I didn’t need to go to bed at a decent hour I could stay up last night and catch up on Versailles, if you haven’t seen, it’s one of those period dramas on BBC 2 a bit like the Tudors with wonderful costumes and lots of debauchary.
I did of course fall asleep on the sofa way before the end of one of the episodes and woke up in total darkness, the television long having switched itself off, curtains still open with a stiff neck and a large cat sat on my chest.
I did the zombie like walk into bed after shutting the curtains and tripping over the boys swimming bag in the hallway (did I put the damp swimming things in the airing cupboard, of course not!) and forgot to set an alarm.
Fast forward to 0700 hours one hour after my usual getting up time on a school day when I’m not working. I not only realise I hadn’t set an alarm but also that the boys are both still asleep. I have messages on my phone from last night that I haven’t read and a message from my husband who is on nights to say he is running late and won’t be home anytime soon.
I panicked, surely the best thing to do is to jump up, have a quick shower, sort the boys milk and breakfast and then run their sinks for a wash? No instead I faff about looking on Instagram, reply to my messages, send some other messages and then look at the clock, 0725, oh dear.
Cue sleepy boys wandering in shouting ‘where’s the milk’ ‘where’s the breakfast’ like a pair of starving baby birds who have to rely on their parents to provide all substinence for them (they are 4 and 6, they know how to pour milk and cereal) anyway…. I get up, sort the milk and breakfast, shove down some shreddies and leave them in front of Horrible Histories Gory Games on the Iplayer which they love because it involves a challenge of children having to clear Henry the VIII’s chamber pot (got to love boys) and I jump in the shower.
While I am in the shower for a grand total of seven minutes I have to mediate two arguments, one about a spoon and the other about what the middle name of the rat in Horrible Histories is (any ideas?) I get out of the shower and run the first sink for a boy to get washed and place their uniforms and clean underwear on the sofa so they can dress themselves while I get myself ready (today I want to at least wear mascara to make me look less zombie from the walking dead and more mum who can hold her stuff together).
Of course this doesn’t happen, I shout myself hoarse saying things like ‘Leo if you put your fingers in your brothers ear again there will be trouble’ and ‘Nate I don’t mind you playing the keyboard but please turn it down’.
School starts at 0845 and we have to leave with enough time to get through the traffic, find somewhere to park (if you live in Whitstable you know what I mean) and then walk to the school.
Leo refused to wash, to get dressed, to put his socks on, to brush his teeth, to put his shoes on and to wear his school jumper. At 0820 he wasn’t even dressed. Nate however was ready, teeth brushed, shoes on and giving me looks of sympathy at how stressed I was getting. That’s when you know things are bad when you receive empathy from a 6 year old.
By the time we had parked Leo was refusing to get out of the car so I ended up doing what can only be described as a comedy sketch type action of running between the two sides of the car trying to get him out of the door as he laughed and moved to the other side. Eventually he got out but then refused to walk so poor Nate ended up carrying all the bags and jumpers as I half carried, half dragged his brother up the high street and into school.
I then informed Leo that I needed to explain to his teacher about his behaviour, needless to say Leo did not want this so tried to stop me from getting anywhere near the teacher by rugby tackling my legs. With tears welling in my eyes I explained to his lovely and extremely understanding teacher about the morning we had been having and looked down at Leo who had chocolate cereal round his mouth and hair that resembled something like stig of the dump.
As I left the school with no boys, literally dripping in sweat after the physical exertion of towing a four year old boy with the figure of a little rugby player I took an incredibly deep breath and thought, if only I had gone to bed at a decent time last night!
Oh well only four hours and counting until pick up and we can do it all again in reverse! How I love a rest day! Xx
tiredfromwhitstable 