6.00 am – Woken by Boyo who has come to collect his Daddy whilst they take the downstairs shift for the morning.
6.02 am – Drag myself out of bed and wait 5 minutes for the shower to run hot. If I was a man, I’d perform the three S routine – shower, sh*t and shave – but my morning routine is a little more ladylike than that.
6.20 am – Either dress myself in the outfit I’ve thoughtfully prepared the night before, or dig frantically through drawers, wardrobe rails and laundry baskets to create the perfect outfit I created in my head whilst showering that will not work without that exact pair of purple tights. Or give up entirely, chuck on my knickers and bra and wrap myself in my enormous man-style black dressing gown (far more practical than white!) and decide to get dressed later.
6.32 am – Frantically moisturise my face and put curl creme in my wet hair (before it dries like THIS!) whilst knowing the Welshman is pacing downstairs waiting for me so he can take the upstairs shift. For the man version of the three S.
6.35 am – Sort out Boyo’s second breakfast (he is like a Hobbit), sort out some washing, have a quick read of Twitter and email. Make myself some breakfast. Reheat the cup of tea the Welshman made me. Make Boyo’s lunch. Search for a lunchbox (they’re all in Lost Property usually). Supervise Boyo’s chores. Reflect that it is easier to do them myself. Remind Boyo that it is shortly going to be homework time. Please note the use of the word “remind” and definitely not “nag”. Sort out Bolt Bunny for the day.
7.30 am – Time for Boyo to do some homework. Supervise whilst suppressing competing feelings of rage and inadequacy – how hard can an 8 year old’s homework really be?!
8.00 am – Race upstairs, make myself beautiful, change my outfit two or maybe three times, repent not styling my hair before it dried like THIS! Suggest it might be nice if Boyo washed his hair. It’s been a few days. Swimming pool yesterday does not count. Find Boyo’s missing towel (on the towel rack). Find Boyo’s missing socks (under his missing shorts, undies and school polo shirt).
8.30 am – Smile serenely, knowing that everything has been done in good time and we’re ready to leave the house in good time for a leisurely stroll to school. Then panic and realise a note and cash needs to go to the school (can’t I just sign one permission slip annually and give the school my BPAY details?!), plus the missing lunchbox has still not been found. Boyo’s school shoes can’t be put on because the double knots from yesterday are tighter than a tight thing. Double check that all teeth have been brushed, give up on requesting that Boyo brush his hair, have a last minute wee for the road, load the dishwasher, wonder if there’s enough time to hang out the towels that are spinning madly in the washing machine, try and find my keys. And sunglasses. Where is my iPad? Where is my iPad case? Where is my mind? Get to the door, check my insistently beeping iPhone and go back to take my medicine like it has so helpfully suggested I do. Thank you iPhone. Swallow them with the dregs of the cold cup of tea I forgot to finish drinking.
8.45 am – Race down the road at pace, cursing the school for implementing a system whereby they want the children to congregate in lines BEFORE THE SCHOOL BELL, giving Boyo a tow truck on his scooter up the hilly bits and regretting bitterly the selection of kitten heeled pumps. Not built for speed. Look cute though. Stop to Instagram a photo of my shoes.
8.59 am – Hand over Boyo to the school – he’s all theirs until 3.00 pm and sprint for the bus, hoping against hope my bus ticket hasn’t disappeared and there might even be a seat.
That is how I start my day. With absolute military precision. That is if the army being referred to is, in fact, Dad’s Army or perhaps the Barmy Army, but without the lobster tans and much better taste in coordinated outfits. Dear gods.
How do YOU start your day? Let’s hope with a little more style and glamour and sunshine and rainbows than I manage!