How this stay-at-home mum stays sane and has fun one day at a time.

My day…

Helping a brother out… just a typical scene in the family bathroom.

5am – I awake, most mornings, to a howling sound, so loud and haunting that I jump out of bed and hurtle towards Annie’s room, sure she’s in pain, only to find her sleeping peacefully after her little outburst. I walk back to bed like a zombie, praying the neighbours don’t leave for work soon, thus ensuring I am officially ‘up’.

6.30 am – I’m sure I’m chanting ‘please just one more hour’ in my sleep, when I wake to see Henry, the world-class ninja, standing still and staring at me like one of those creepy twins from The Shining. I remember when he would jump in for a cuddle, but he’s already saying “I want TV’. If I stay very still, my husband will think I’m asleep and get up – sucker!

7am – Early morning dreams are interrupted by a child bellowing “CHOCOLATE TOAST” and I flop out of bed, cursing the day I introduced him to Nutella. Trudging down the hall, I try to negotiate a different breakfast, but I’m soon making chocolate toast like a chump and thinking how it’s too early to win an argument with a threenager.

The countdown begins: 80 minutes to get two shorties to kindy. Once upon a time, 80 minutes would have meant a mooch-about morning with slow sips of coffee and The Herald and make-up and a hairbrush… now it means literally RUNNING around the house, yelling like a Deranged Doris, making threats left, right and centre, picking up pieces of discarded toast while trying to tie a moving shoelace and put a sticker on a chart under ‘Dressed Himself’.

8.30am – H-Bomb gets dropped at kindy and the boys who are giggling about how the brown paint looks like poo make me smile. I’m with you, boys. Poo is hilarious.

9am – Driving home, I remember that I left the house looking like grenades were detonated in every room. After making a mental list of all the housework I need to do, I take the smart way out and decide to avoid, avoid, avoid. This is an emergency and surely I can plan a quick playdate, coerce someone into coffee or go shopping for that thing I just decided I can’t live without. One thing’s for sure – I can’t go home till there isn’t enough time for all that housework.

Midday – Baby Girl has gone a little Hulk on me, so she must need a nap. I spend half an hour negotiating with this tiny terrorist, who is cuddling a pink puppy and three bunny comforters. No doubt I’ll need my “stern Mummy voice” in this situation, but as soon as she’s down I dance out of there like I’m Ellen Degeneres, although very, very quietly.

2 pm – Seriously where did those two hours go? Time flies when you finally get some “me” time, which I use to do some contracting work, write this blog, answer emails, prepare dinner or dredge up the deeply-buried motivation to clean something.

2.30 pm – Oh how my heart explodes with love every time I pick Henry up and he runs at me like we’re in a Rom-Com in an airport. That feeling disappears the second I buckle him into the car and watch him go completely postal due to being overtired. The next three hours are a rollercoaster of emotions as the kids oscillate between loving each other madly, and hating each other as much as Romeo and Juliet’s relatives. Spot the poor adult in the middle of it all, looking hopelessly at the clock and waiting for her husband’s triumphant return to the family home.

4pm – At this point, I want Tim to rescue me so bad I start hallucinating that he’s walking through the door, my knight in shining armour, here to save the day. He never does – that bastard – but claims he needs to “work till 5pm” to “keep his job” and “pay for everything”. Pfft.

6pm – The nightly news is on and I haven’t caught a scrap of the latest all day, so I set myself up to fail but caring heaps about trying to watch it. All attempts to grab a tid bit of something I can talk about the next time I’m in an adult conversation fail when the kids decide to turn their yelling up to 11. Oh well, I’ll just keep talking about my kids’ poo and time out techniques and how they smack me in the face sometimes…

7.30pm – Kids asleep. I breathe a sigh of relief and go to plonk myself on the couch before realising I actually have about 460,000 things to do before I can relax.

10pm – According to my New Year’s Resolution, this is my bedtime. A person needs 7-8 hours of sleep each night, apparently. Yeah right! There are more episodes of Parenthood to watch and I need to reply to messages so my friends don’t think I’m dead. I have to take vitamins and drink some water and I should probably shower at some stage today right?

I need to know what people are Pinning and Tweeting and Facebooking and complaining about on Neighbourly. I have boot camp at sparrow’s fart tomorrow, so clothes need to be laid out. I need to Google how to stop a toddler from taking off her nappy and crapping in her high chair. Time to sneak one more look at my gorgeous sleeping babies and re-tuck them in and I need to talk to Tim! That’s right. I have a husband!

Life with two kids… so much to do… so little time… so worth every manic minute!


3 Responses to “My day…”

  1. ampeart

    I nearly introduced Nutella the other day but thought I’d give myself some more time. It has less sugar than jam though so that’s a start! Lucy is a marmite loyalist at the moment, won’t eat honey (unless it’s on a ‘pike-it’) and like her mum, won’t go near peanut butter.

    My day usually starts when my husband’s alarm goes at 6.50am, which also wakes Lucy, or at least lets her know we’re up too and gets her yelling for me down the hallway. Sometimes it’s ‘mum’ sometimes it’s ‘hello!’ I get her up and changed, have a shower (which I should have at night when Lucy is asleep), try to keep Lucy from hopping in with me, then give her breakfast at 745/8, which is a bit of a battle at the moment, as cereal is not her favourite thing right now. If I’m working, I head off about 8.45 when Granny Daycare has arrived.

    If I’m at home, it’s hanging out, and checking work emails and attempting to do a bit of work while Lucy plays with felts, or blocks, or listens to some music while she dances madly in the lounge. If I don’t play her Happy by Pharrell Williams at least 3 times, there is trouble. We sometimes go up to Cornwall Park or visiting friends after that, or maybe to a local café and 10.30am is morning tea wherever we are. Lunch is about 12pm and 1/1.30pm to bed for a couple of hours. She usually wakes up about 3.30 but I sometimes have to wake a very grumpy girl at 4. This is the only time I get cuddles these days though, if she’s too drowsy to realise she’s giving me one.

    Over summer Lucy got really bad at settling at night, which I think was because of the heat, so we moved her dinner time from 5, to 6, and eat together which is improving her eating and it’s nice to sit down at the table as a family, as it’s one of the things I plan to do long-term.

    Daddy is a primary school teacher and usually gets home between 5-5.30 depending on meetings, and Lucy goes to bed 7.30pm these days. We had 7pm locked in but in the muggy summer days she sometimes was awake until 9, so we moved it later and don’t know how to go back! She usually goes to sleep fairly quickly though, so it’s working for now.

    I sometimes wonder what I used to do with my spare time now that I don’t have much of it. Surely I should know how to knit, speak another language and be much fitter?

  2. mammahutch

    Oh my gosh – this is SO my day!! What an awesome blog Kelly! Can’t wait till later (ie midnight) when I have time to read some more ;p

    • kellyburnie

      Thanks heaps! I was hoping some other parents could relate he he.


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