My work day starts at 5.45 in the A.M. I’m mildly considering waking up half an hour earlier to fit in a workout before work, but 5.15am sounds like a time one should be going to bed rather than waking up so it’s a big stretch to convince myself that it would be a fine and grand thing.
So, my alarm which sounds like gentle bells that slap me around the face goes off, and I never press snooze. In fact, I usually wake before the bells which actually sound more like a small animal farting underwater because is attune to my alarm clock and like to give me ten-minute warnings from about 4.30.
I really hate the snooze button, incidentally. It’s a false economy. The snooze sleep is shit sleep and you feel worse for it….unless that snooze is actually about 457 hours of extra deep REM sleep and you finally catch up that sleep debt you’ve had since 2010.
I get up, put eggs on to boil, or begin the breakfast procedure and then I jump the in the shower like a stealth ninja so as not to wake the kids up.
What? You ask. You just said you don’t want the kids to sleep in on work days……true, but they can’t wake too early either as that’s not in the program. If they wake too early then they’re feral by the time I pick them up from whichever carer has had them on that particular afternoon and the bedtime stretch is as fun as electric shocks to your genitals.
I try to be dressed, makeup done and breaky made by 6.30 because I need to sit with the kids while they eat breakfast otherwise they dick around and it take thrice as long and I find food strewn in random places around the lounge.
I like to connect with the kids and chat over breakfast. It’s a nice way to start they day before we all go our separate ways. This morning’s chat went like this.
“Mum, what’s seck?”
“I don’t know. What is seck?”
“Nooooo, what is sex?”
Three and three-quarter years old…. Here we go.
So, we talked about penises in vaginas, and the intricacies of no one doing a wee during this precarious time. I didn’t mention the greatest peril is farting during an indelicate moment. We chatted over picky plates and banana, cashew, and mango smoothies (WTF am I since NutriBullet gave me one to trial?) and I had to smile at my life.
Those 5.15am crawling, bleary-eyed into bed with my make-up still on albeit smeared down my face days really are such a distant memory.
I also used to take only 15 minutes to get ready to leave the house… maybe half an hour if I was putting in extra, extra effort, like shaving my legs in case I suspected I was going to get laid.
These days I get up at 5.45am to leave the house at 7.45am. That’s two whole freaking hours to get three people fed and dressed. It’s obscene.
Then I do school drop offs, soon to be two schools, before dropping car home and running to catch the train. I have a 2-minute window – TWO MINUTES – to catch that damned train….today I was busting for a poo after school-run so I dashed into the house for the fastest dump in history. Missed the train.
Missed the train by 30 seconds.
I walk into work, usually 10-15 minutes late, and I invariably look like a disheveled mess, but I pretend to the fresh, young, child-free lasses that I have not just completed an obstacle course in order to be there ALMOST on time.
Have I mentioned I love my job? I bloody do. I’ll even suck up the athletics required to get there.
How long does it take you to get ready in the morning? Tell me… Am I just shit at this???