The Daily Routine

Some days I really wish Josh was at home to help me in the mornings with the school runs before I go to work…

After today I will never, ever wish that again.

My usual routine, that I do every school day goes like this;

My alarm goes off at 6.30am and the four eldest get up after one of my cheery psychotic morning calls, apart from Betsy – who takes slightly longer and is usually issued with the threat of a phone or gym ban along with a bright light in her retina before she rises.

They have a wash then make their beds. They come downstairs dressed in their uniforms &  pop their pyjamas in the laundry basket and their empty juice cups in the dishwasher.

Betsy and Seb make breakfast for Lula and Isaac whilst I run round like a twat checking the packed lunches are in their bags that I’ve already checked twice, looking at my phone for texts I may have missed from school to ensure that it’s not messy hair day or I don’t have to take a kiwi and pack of digestives in for some culinary experience they’re creating.

After breakfast they all brush their teeth, the girls do their own ponytails where I whack in a huge OTT diamanté hair-bow to compete with the kids in the playground sporting 67 fishtail plaits and both boys lob a lump of shockwaves in their barnets.

They then get their shoes & coats on, check their own bags for their packed lunch boxes as no one has any faith in me then they read their school books (in their heads not out loud as this sends me over the edge). I can then fill in their reading records so the teachers basically think we live like the Waltons.

We have an unwritten rule in the mornings that NO-ONE speaks to Edie….she’s only been part of this game since starting pre-school in September; prior to this her childminder collected her at 7.45am so we’re all still getting to grips with having her home in the mornings…and she’s getting to grips about being with us…I know she will be just fine by about September but right now she teeters on the edge of losing the plot every day so the kids are aware that they only have to make eye contact with her and it all goes to shit.

We act like she’s invisible and I leave her alone until the last 10 minutes where I usually one-person restrain her into her uniform, have a punch up over the bastard wheetos then bribe her to get in the car with a chocolate brioche.
I drop all the mini turds off at school then stop at Spar before work and throw a costa and bacon & cheese turnover down my neck because I realise my body has had zero fluid or food intake.

This morning Josh was working late so he was home – to ‘help me’ apparently. Let me run you through how it goes;

The alarm goes off at 6am; Why? That was the first argument before I’d even opened my eyes? Why the fuck am I expected to get up half an hour earlier than normal when there’s two of us to help?
I then hear him boiling the kettle. He then comes back to bed with a cup of tea and a fucking bird book and puts the bedside lamp on.
By this point I’m livid…we’re not holidaying in Spain; I can’t have a ‘siesta’ later on today when I’m a bit tired. What parent in their right mind that owns FIVE mini terrorists would get up 30 minutes earlier than needed to read a bastard book and drink a cup of tea?
He then wakes the kids, full of the joys…he then carries Isaac down the stairs on his hip..in his pyjamas. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Why is he nursing him down the stairs? He isn’t a toddler. Why is he not dressed? Where’s his empty cup of juice? Who’s making his bed? Why are his pyjamas not in the laundry bin?
Betsy’s still soundo and I’m so angry with Josh I confiscate her phone without any warning. She hasn’t even heard me take it, she’s asleep. Oblivious.
I come downstairs to everyone eating breakfast round the table – still sat in their PJ’s like it’s Christmas morning…apart from Seb who’s patiently waiting for boiled eggs…BOILED BASTARD EGGS. I don’t have time to pour milk on their weetabix let alone turn into Nigella.
I sprint back up to Betsy’s room and threaten a gym ban – she’s up.
Come back down and Josh has turned into fucking Trevor Sorbie, attempting a bun in Tallulah’s mane whilst giving Seb a blow dry.
Everyone is still in pyjamas, I can’t cope. I’m pacing. Frantic.
Edie is totally out of sorts now and just keeps screaming at me asking why Josh is at home, I want to reply “I have no fucking idea but he’s pissing me off too you know”.
Betsy appears grinning like a Cheshire Cat that someone is sending me over the edge like I send her every single day of her school life.
She eats her toast and drinks her apple juice which has been served to her like she’s royalty, she giggles with Josh taking snapchat pics whilst wearing his police hat then trots out the door to school Happy as Larry. Cow.
It’s now 8.10am and josh is dressing Isaac, he’s actually fully helping him like he isn’t aware that he’s been able to dress himself for the past 2 years.
I send the kids up to brush their teeth so I can lose my mind with Josh through gritted whisper threats about how I run this ship like a military operation and he’s now managed to fuck the whole thing up in one morning but realise I’m now 7 minutes late.
I’m that livid my throat is now bone dry. I can’t even swallow.
I leave for the school run as he leaves for a gym session before work..it’s all me me me.

Get in the car to all the kids spouting off about how amazing their morning has been, how full up they are after their delicious breakfast and how much everyone loves Josh…meanwhile I’m trying not to bite the steering wheel with rage whilst smiling away agreeing about how lucky we all are.

He’s now at work, policing the Liverpool v Plymouth game…I’ve just sent him a text saying I hope it all goes well, followed by a warning that if he is ever home on a school morning again we will be separating. Permanently 😂💜👮🏽

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