In the middle of a dream at 6 o'clock? I wish. By 6am most mornings Mr McD and I have already had a mini-argument about who gets to have first shower and who's turn it is to get the Stuntman up from bed (he's an early morning poo-er, every morning without fail - not a pleasant way to start the day). By 6:15am we've had our first coffee and by 7am Mr McD's out the door.
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Not last Tuesday though. Last Tuesday everything that could go wrong, went wrong. Nothing major, nothing life-threatening, just a million little events that resulted in me getting in to work at 10:30am, in my 3rd outfit for the day, and only wearing one earring.
For starters, Mr McD's alarm didn't go off, which usually wouldn't be an issue, except that on this particular morning the Stuntman decided to sleep in, so no one woke up until the sun started to creep in the window at about 6:30am. Shit. We were already running about an hour behind schedule! Then Little Miss declared that she absolutely would not get dressed until she had finished her breakfast, and proceeded to eat her bowl of Cheerios one by one... the Stuntman meanwhile was attached to my breast as if he'd been starved for days, and would scream blue murder if I dared to try and extricate myself from his death-roll grip before he decided he was finished. It was now 7am - I was still unshowered, Mr McD had showered but couldn't find his work shirt, and the Stuntman had hidden the remote control again so we couldn't even use the calming power of television (remote control later found in Mr McD's shoe).
I eventually got the baby off me, jumped in the shower for 1 minute and 47 seconds, speed-dressed and returned to the lounge room to find Little Miss still eating her individual bloody Cheerios, smiling slyly as I tried to gently cajole her into getting dressed. Gentle cajoling failed, so my next move was to simply take the bowl off her. A tug of war ensued - cue my first outfit change.
After tears and recriminations (mine and hers, respectively), a ceasefire was reached and we got her dressed and ready for kindy. Mr McD took this opportunity to sneak out the door, somehow only 20 minutes late. The little Stuntman, realising he had been without attention for a total of 11 minutes, started smearing his piece of peanut butter toast along the wall behind his high chair, with a high pitched squeal of delight guaranteed to make everyone turn and look at him. Little Miss took it upon herself to take charge of the situation, saying, "Silly boy, that's very naughty, what a mess, we have to clean it up," in her bossiest big sister voice, and started to spread the peanut butter further along the wall... with her sleeve. Cue outfit change for her. Nanna looks after the Stuntman on Tuesdays, and she walks in the door during this madness, causing both kids to start running around the room in excitement, screaming their heads off like tiny little banshees.
By now it's 7:30am - we need to be out the door by 7:40am if I'm to have a chance of getting to work on time. Our game plan is for Nanna and the Stuntman to drop Little Miss and I at her kindy in the car, then I walk to the train station and head to work. Easy.
Quick score check: I'm dressed, Little Miss is dressed, the Stuntman is still in his pj's covered in peanut butter, bags are packe..... ARGH NO! Bags are NOT packed! Quickly sort out my work bag while Nanna cleans the Stuntman up and gets him dressed, then I pack Little Miss' kindy bag, round everyone up in the front hallway and prepare to exit the building. Open the front door - it's raining. Shit shit shit. Head back inside to find a raincoat for Little Miss and an umbrella for me. Attempted exit number two - I pick up the Stuntman and make a run for the car in the rain. Just as I'm lifting him into the car seat, he spews on my shoulder. Just a little spew, but spew none the less. Back inside for second outfit change for me, and a quick wipe down for him.
It's now 8:10am. I'm seriously late. We all get in the car and I tell Nanna to floor it. She doesn't. It takes us 20 minutes to drive to kindy (I can do it in 8), so it's 8:30am by the time we pull into the driveway. I get Little Miss out of her car seat, grab my work bag and go to grab her kindy bag from the back seat. Where's her bag? FFS are you kidding me?!?!?!?! The bag is at home, on the front porch. Of course it is. Nanna, bless her, tells me she'll do a round trip and bring it back, so I race inside with Little Miss, explain the bag situation to the kindy teacher and try to leave quickly and quietly. No chance. Little Miss decides that today she needs an extra long cuddle, does not want to play with any of her friends and no thank you, she won't go and read a story on the pillows. It's 8:45am. So after a very long cuddle, during which time, unbeknownst to me, Little Miss had removed one of my earrings, I finally managed to say goodbye, walk out the door, run up the street and get to the train station.
Just to see my (late) train pulling away from the platform. By this stage I'm beside myself; I'm so late I'm almost early for tomorrow, I didn't have any breakfast and I'm not entirely sure I've put mascara on both eyes. I have to wait 20 minutes for the next train. Fuck it. It's out of my hands now. The universe decided I needed 20 minutes to myself, I think, so I go and buy a coffee (on oat milk) and a piece of (sourdough) toast, and fire off a few emails from my phone.
I finally get on the train and sit back and try to relax for my hour long journey (it only takes 40 minutes during peak hour, but I've missed that well and truly). I stumble into my office at 10:30am, looking like I've been pulled through a hedge backwards, and feeling like I've run a marathon.
"Slept in huh?" says the receptionist. You have no idea.
