Beta Mummy’s Attempt at Leaving the House

Leaving the house becomes a military exercise once you have children. A military exercise that involves pain, carnage, tears, shouting, and possibly loss of life, or at least loss of the will to live.

These days, I have one child to get to nursery, one to get to school, and myself to get to work. Thanks to “flexible working”, I do something slightly different each day, which means that the kids don’t have to do breakfast club and afterschool club every day. It also means I live in a constant state of anxiety about who is supposed to be where and when.

Here is a taste of one of my mornings:

06:30 – Alarm goes off, pointlessly as I’ve inevitably been woken up before now by a child or two. Stick bedroom TV on.
06:45 – Drag myself out of bed and into shower.
06:50 – Drag myself out of shower and get dressed. Look in mirror and wish I hadn’t. Apply mascara to one eye. Break up fight over the remote control.
07:00 – Downstairs, dish out cereal and vitamins (feel slightly better about the fact that they don’t eat vegetables).
07:03 – Start making toast in response to demands for more food. Make cup of tea.
07:07 – Make another round of toast whilst emptying dishwasher.
07:15 – Tell kids to hurry up and stop beating each other around the head, whilst sorting out kids’ bags, coats etc.
07:20 – Commence getting the kids dressed.
07:30 – Lose will to live whilst chasing pants-on-head-wearing toddler around the house
07:40 – Both kids more-or-less dressed. Remember teeth.
07:42 – Change tops as covered with toothpaste. Start hunting for shoes that you had lined up by the door last night in a surprisingly organised manner.
07:52 – Lose the plot at the children, shouting and raging “WHY DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE?!!!” whilst still looking for school shoes.
07:53 – FC#1 calmly appears, wearing school shoes and asking “What?”
07:55 – We are supposed to leave the house now, but FC#2 is on the toilet doing “the world’s most biggest and stinkiest poo EVER”. Go and move enormous pile of bags, lunch boxes, coats etc closer to the front door.
08:01 – Poo-bum sorted, coats on. Where is my coat?! Coat found. FC#2 doesn’t want to wear his coat. Argue for a while, then give up – he can be cold.
08:06 – Bundle everyone out of the door, swearing under my breath as I struggle and the kids refuse to carry a thing.
08:07 – Run back inside, forgot car keys. Lock up and tell kids to go and get in the car.
08:08 – Run back inside, forgot my work bag.
08:09 – Fourteen minutes late, we finally all manage to leave the house. FC#1 doesn’t have his PE bag and FC#2 STILL doesn’t have the requested new pack of baby wipes in his nursery bag, but we are out of the house.

So for anyone seeing me at school or at work first thing in the morning – THAT is why I look exhausted by 9am.  That is why I sometimes turn up at work with my hair still wet and my top on inside out.  That is why I don’t really want to talk to you before I’ve had my first cup of tea.  It’s nothing personal, I just haven’t yet worked out where I am or what year it is.

Incidentally, the cuppa I made at 07:03 is still sitting on the side in my kitchen (and will probably be mistakenly slurped whilst I’m cooking dinner later, ugh).

 

Alpha Mummy may have it sussed…

…but Beta Mummy most certainly doesn’t.

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2 Comments

  • Perdita 29/01/2018 at 3:52 pm

    This morning my husband got up for work at 5am, accidentally woke up the child, then got her dressed on autopilot at 5am! She then started running round singing the theme tune to Netflix Super Monsters. So. I’m not late. I’m shattered from getting up an hour too early, but not late. 🙁

    Reply
  • The Preemie-Mummy 29/01/2018 at 5:30 pm

    Bloody love these!!! You are not alone… I have a two year old and I’m like a crazed bag lady whenever I’m leaving the house with him!!! 🤯

    Reply

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