I wake to the sound of spoons clinking on bowls and grumble about the TV volume. Baby girl opens her big grey brown eyes and unlatches from the breast with a dramatic smack of her lips. The teen announces that she is off to school, and Hubby walks in the room fresh faced from his morning shave and points to the cup of tea he’s placed on my bedside table before he throws open the curtains. (He’s a keeper!) I fight with the duvet and sit up to drink my tea whilst I watch My husband dress. I can hear the toddler downstairs excitedly counting down from 5 as Thunderbirds dances on the tv screen.
Baby is chilled. I change her nappy and pop her back in the Co sleeper before I scramble out of bed in my vest and pants and decide to go for a shower. I watch hubby head downstairs and listen for the click as he locks the front door behind him so the toddler can’t escape.
Before I leave the bedroom, I must make the bed, I can’t find one of the scatter cushions as it’s buried under a pile of clean clothes that I didn’t get round to folding the night before. I spend a few minutes folding the clothes before straightening out the bed and trundling to the bathroom.
Sigh. last nights nappy and clothes are still strewn on the floor from toddler bath-time. I pick them up and pop them in the (overflowing) wash basket and nappy bin in the children’s room. (The kids will be sharing once baby outgrows her co sleeper) Whilst I’m in there I open the curtains, make the bed, straighten the pictures that have fallen over, pick out clothes for the day for both the little people and collect any stray bottles. As soon as I drop the bottles downstairs toddler starts demanding milk. Sigh. I head downstairs with my mug in hand and decide I may as well make myself a coffee whilst his milk is warming.
I step in the kitchen. Sigh. A bowl above the empty dishwasher, an overflowing bin, sugar and crumbs all over the worktop, a sink that looks like it grew a bog monster overnight. I set to work cleaning whilst the kettle boils. Toddler ambles in to the kitchen with a pong akin to nuclear warfare. The microwave pings and I hand the toddler his bottle. We go back to the lounge and I change his nappy before he settles back in front of the tv. (No mama guilt here! I still have a dirty kitchen and need a shower!)
Back in the kitchen I pour boiled (but slightly cooled!) water over Azera coffee beans and finish wiping the worktops and mopping the floor as well as cleaning the inside of the bin before discarding the rubbish (including nuclear nappy!) in the outside bin.
Coffee in hand I head back upstairs and turn on the shower. I can hear toddler feet scrambling behind me telling me all about the spider in the bathroom. I make a mental note to dust the cobwebs more and step under the shower. Little hands claw at the edge of the bath “shower Mama, shower Mama” The toddler howls as I tell him I won’t be a minute. Over the din of the whingeing toddler I catch the first noises of a disgruntled baby. By the time I’ve retrieved the shampoo from the toddler and finished rinsing my hair the disgruntled noises have transformed in to abandoned baby sobs. As I walk out of the bathroom little hands shove my thighs backwards.
NO MAMA! Brush teeth brush teeth brush teeth
“Not right now darling, your sister is crying”
I squeeze past him to the bedroom and swoop baby in to my damp arms. I can hear toddler in the hallway kicking the wall in frustration as he can’t reach the toothpaste. I latch baby on and head back to the bathroom to help. Whilst toddler brushes his teeth I remember my coffee on the windowsill and take a few swigs. *bleuch* coffee is now tepid. With baby still latched on, I one handedly put the shampoo and body wash away and put hubby’s razor out of reach. I wrestle the toothbrush from toddler features and tell him very well done for brushing his teeth.
Back in the bedroom I pick out some clothes and dress hastily before baby realises boob has been temporarily replaced with a dummy. I pick up (The now wailing!) baby and make for the stairs. Toddler runs after me with cries of “carry you carry you” I kneel down and scoot him in to my spare arm and carry both kids downstairs. Toddler heads straight for his toy box and I plop baby in her sit me up ring before sprinting back upstairs to empty the overflowing washing basket and retrieve my coffee cup.
Back downstairs and the lounge already looks like a bomb has gone off. I put the washing machine on and set about making toast only for the toddler to demand porridge. I make porridge for him and settle him at the table before I put baby in her highchair with a slice of toast.
I click the kettle on just in time to hear hubby return from PT.
He gives me a kiss then surveys the lounge and the still-in-their-pj’s children and says
“lazy day today then?”
Yes darling. Yes it is.