I was up early. Not by choice, I’ll admit. But this time, I didn’t lie in bed clicking my heels together, whispering, “There’s no place like home” and just praying that ‘home’ was anywhere but where both children thought 6.30am was a good time to start the day. No, on this morning, J barely got out one, “whingy I’m hungry cry!” before I was up and at ’em.
Later, I glanced at the clock. 7.45am. I looked around me. Both children fed and dressed for the day, now quietly entertaining themselves on kitchen floor. Me showered and ready for the day and now in the kitchen cleaning up. It has to be said I was feeling like a particularly clever specimen at this moment.
I smiled to myself as I glanced over at my delightful children.
I continued to smile as I noted how we were well on track and organised on a school morning.
And still smiling, I poured myself a drink.
By lunchtime I was ready for J to have his nap so I could have a rest too.
What has motherhood taught me today? 6.30am is a stupid time to start the day.