September 26, 2011 § 3 Comments
Does anyone else feel like they’re living their life on high alert? My day seems to lurch from adrenaline surge to anxiety attack. By the time my burnt out carcass collapses into bed at the end of the day it’s like my foot’s plugged into a socket. My body is drained but my brain won’t stop fizzing.
This morning, for example. Baby has a feed at four am. Two year old starts demanding to be taken downstairs by shouting ‘STAIRS MUMMY!’ repeatedly at five am. Four year old rises at half six, and immediately complains of a headache, and says he’s too ill to go to school. It’s only day four of his reception class, so I’ve got nearly 15 years of skiving attempts ahead of me. Do four year olds even know what headaches are?
I feed the baby and attempt to make myself presentable, and the two boys proceed to systematically take the house apart. I’ve decided to introduce a ‘no tv before school’ policy, in the hope that they might be more amenable to getting ready to leave the house. The policy is backfiring. I finally wrestle both boys out of my bedroom where they have stripped my bed of its covers and are trampolining semi-naked and smearing marmite bagels on the mattress. Crouching in the hall, I balance the baby on my shoulder, and wave toothbrushes towards clamped mouths and shove shoes on reluctant wriggly feet.
Ah, the school run. Twenty minutes of uphill, with the double buggy, and a 4yo on an out of control scooter ignoring my entreaties to wait. By the time I arrive at school I am soaked with sweat, and my heart is beating fast. Then I walk to pre-school and deposit a tired two year old into the arms of an equally tired looking nursery assistant.
Return home, feed baby. Baby decides to scream house down. I have invited a friend for lunch so I attempt to peel some vegetables and roast a chicken, all the while bouncing the baby in her chair with one foot. At the point that I need to drain the potatoes and add them to the oven, I open a cupboard and a full bottle of red wine vinegar falls and smashes next to me on the work surface, soaking my jumper, jeans and shoes, and spreading broken glass and vinegar all over the kitchen. Baby screams louder. I open the under sink cupboard to find the dustpan and an enormous spider crawls out, and hides under the bouncy chair. I am now faced with a dilemma…what first? Broken glass, potatoes, soaked clothes, screaming baby, or enormous spider? Just then, a whining commences in the back room. The dog. I have forgotten to take the dog on the school run, and she wants her walk.
Is it just me who lives their life like this? I had intended on being a stay at home mum for a few years, but the office is already calling my name. Does anyone have any advice for dealing with three very small children, and surviving?
This post originally appeared In the Powder Room