That’s what I feel like this morning. One of those got-it-all-together mums that so many of us strive to be, and yet so few of us ever really achieve.
I am bad with mornings. I am not a morning person whatsoever. It takes me at least an hour to wake up enough to function properly, and then another good few to actually get my brain in gear. I’ve always been this way, and it most likely always will.
The last few months, my toddler has decided to start his days at 5am. 5am! It used to be 7am, or 6am on a bad day. 5am…I swear he just enjoys watching me suffer.
Monday was my birthday, and my partner and I were up in London. Our son stayed with my mum, and in all honestly I was feeling a bit gleeful at the idea of someone else having to get up with him so early.
10am is when he woke up Tuesday morning. 10am! I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I heard the news. I mean come on, how unfair is that?! I just knew that it would only last the one night, and never again in his lifetime would that ever happen. He was up later than we were!
7:30 I woke up today, to the soft snuffles of him still asleep in his room. Oh the excitement! I could either go back to sleep or get dressed in peace and actually enjoy a hot cup of tea.
Obviously, I went with the latter.
By the time he woke up at 8:30 I’d already done one load of washing up, put some laundry in, fixed the stair gate, and managed half a cup of tea before it reached that horrible lukewarm state.
Got the little guy up, got him dressed and gave him his milk. Managed to hoover the lounge with him giggling on my hip (even just the sight of the vacuum cleaner brings tears), give him breakfast, and entertain him til nap time.
The washing machine stopped just as naptime arrived, meaning it was the perfect time for me to take down the dry washing, hang out the new, and put a second lot in. I even managed to scoff a healthy (but late) breakfast before sitting down with my laptop.
It’s not even 11am yet!
I think I deserve a coffee and a creme egg.