My morning has already been classed as shit and it's only 9.10am. Thing 3 started chatting at 5.45am, husband got up with him, I promptly set my alarm for 7am and went back to sleep relishing at the fact I would get another hour but ohhh no, Thing 2 had other thoughts about that. He arrived at my bedside poking me in the leg with a lightsaber at 6am, I sent him back to bed and told him it was still the middle of the night, he came again at 6.10am telling me his goddamn groclock (which are a waste are frigging time by the way) only had 1 star left on it so it must be get up time, I explained (for the millionth time) that it's never get up time until the sunshine comes on and sent him back to bed. He arrived again at 6.15am telling me his groclock had broken... in other words he had pressed all the buttons multiple times and it now was just flashing at him. I sent him downstairs to his Dad and got in the shower. I came downstairs in black leggings which Thing 3 promptly covered in banana whilst trying to hitch his way up my leg to sit on my hip where he spends the majority of the day so that I don't have to put up with the screaming. There are obviously certain times when this can't happen, like if I ever get round to going for the wee that I'll have definitely needed for at least 3 hours before going, then this happens...
Yes, that is my 13 month old son, trying to climb on to my knee whilst I'm on the toilet. Welcome to my life!
Thing 2 had gymnastics today so had to be at school for 8.10am so chucked on his tracksuit and his dad sent him downstairs with his uniform in hand to go in a bag. I took it off him and realised he'd sent him down with yesterdays school T-shirt which is supposed to be white but is actually pink, red blue and green from the secret painting they did yesterday for mothers day... not very secret when your child comes home from school looking like a rainbow and saying 'no, i didn't do any painting today mummy because its a secret for mummys day!' anyway, cue me flapping around the house trying to find another shirt, all are obviously in the wash load that is done but hasn't yet been dried, FML. Husband takes him to school, I stick the dryer on, wrestle with Thing 3 for 20 minutes to get him dressed and then check Thing 1 is almost ready to leave for school. Thing 1 is a 14 year old boy. Yes, I have 3 boys, all at the most awkward stages of childhood. The teenage grumpy phase, the 5 year old 'just started school and permanently knackered' phase and the 13 month old 'can't walk, can't talk frustrated as hell about those two things' phase. Life is peachy.
I chuck everything in the car then race to school before gymnastics finishes to get Thing 2's still slightly damp top to him whilst hoping the teachers don't touch it and judge me about said dampness and lack of ironing then race home before Thing 3 falls asleep in the car then wakes up as I try to transfer him to his cot and refuses to go back to sleep for the next 2 hours because apparently 5 minutes sleep is enough of a power nap to cock everyones days up. I made it back as his eyes started to drop, hurrah! This is one of the little triumphs a mum has throughout the day, gone are the days where your triumphs were an hours session at the gym before work in the morning then landing a deal at work etc, now its getting home before the baby's eyes drop in the car or making it through a meal without any food being thrown back at you or changing a nappy without getting poo up your finger nail.
During all of this I decided to start a blog just to see if anyone else finds these ridiculously minuscule happenings in the grand scheme of things as stressful as I do?! Probably not, but do I care? No, I'm too frigging tired to give a shit quite frankly because of that stupid effing Groclock.
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